I’m jealous of my kids. They get to travel more than me. Right now, they are in Mont Tremblant, Quebec, snowboarding with their father, who I divorced many holiday ski trips ago. Perhaps I should have reconsidered ending that marriage, you think?
Me? I’m sitting on my rear in front of a computer, at home, surrounded by Christmas decorations that need to be boxed and stored away, in a town in Northern California, to which I will be tethered for the length of a lease I signed on a cupcake shop I recently opened. My dream. My passion (for the moment). My daily grind. I have had to put aside travel plans and turn down invitations to fancy resorts after adding the title, “Sole Proprietor” to my resume. Will it be worth it? Only time will tell. But for now, my wings have been clipped.
Really, though, I am happy for my daughters. Happy that they are developing a world view. Thrilled that they are taking vacations of a lifetime at such a young age. That’s the upside of divorce: Your children get double the vacations. Over the summer, I took them to New York and Boston. Two weeks later, they were in Costa Rica with their father and stepfamily. Last year at this time, they were skiing in France. DAMN, how I miss those great trips!
But if I do recall, my ex always had some bad karma. Something unforeseen and unfortunate usually happened to us whenever we went on vacation. On our way to Banff, Canada, one year when my oldest was three, we forgot to bring her birth certificate and came thisclose to not being allowed on the plane; driving up to Norcal for Thanksgiving another year, our car broke down at night, right outside Fresno. We spent the night at a Holiday Inn and ate Thanksgiving dinner from a vending machine. While on a summer vacation in Las Vegas, our car sunk to the bottom of Lake Mead while we were trying to launch our brand-new boat. And then on a motorcycle trip up to Laguna Seca in Monterey, the ex and I skidded on some gravel on a mountainous turn, crashed the bike, and tumbled over one another like two towels in a dryer. Miraculously, we were fine. But that once shining-new bike, on loan from Kawasaki, didn’t fare so well.
Yep, we made beautiful children together; but had very bad travel karma. Funny thing, misfortunes continue to happen to my ex whenever he travels. My oldest just told me before she left on this recent trip, when I asked her if she was excited about going to Canada: “Yeah, but every time we go somewhere with dad, something bad happens.” So it wasn’t just me.
They left yesterday for Canada — you know, the country that borders New York, the place where the blizzard just hit? I was beside myself with worry, praying that somehow, the man with the bad travel karma, would get his family to safety, far north of the Big Blizzard of 2010.
I’m happy to report that they did make it, late last night. They’re safely tucked away in their storybook mountain resort at the foot of majestic Mount Tremblant.
I’m back to being jealous again.
HOW ABOUT YOU? DO YOU HAVE ANY BAD KARMIC TRAVEL STORIES TO SHARE?