Every few years I have the desire to get close to the equator. My bones are a little older, a little more brittle, and in need of warmth. The problem is the effort it takes to get there now since the trip is competing with this warm couch I’m laying on, and the dumb box with a million different shows to watch.
Traveling these days is harder than math class at an all-girls prep school. What happened to the days when people got dressed up to get on a plane and were friendly when spoken to? It’s hard not to feel like a detective asking a burglar about his whereabouts the night in question when trying to start small conversations with strangers on your travels. You could get lucky if you’re as patient as a blind man working a 5,000-piece jigsaw puzzle and find someone who’s talkative and genuinely friendly when you’re on the move. I’ve given up talking to the younger generation, especially when you’re on an airplane. Is everybody worried about the plane going down? I don’t get it. I’d rather start a conversation about the problem of profanity with a mechanic.
So I won’t be calling Delta this year. I need a change. I'm not taking one of those boring, all-you-can-eat, cruises either — I always get elbowed by the fat lady at the buffet — and it hurts. I’m going to take my Ebbtide 19 foot, bow rider. My ETA will not impress, maybe 2025. But I will make it. I will need a couple of sponsors for things like gas money, ropes, skis, bullhorns, flares, radios, rain gear and suntan lotion, fishing hooks, maps, and maybe a bible.
My girlfriend will not be coming because she left me for a guy with a bigger boat.