Traveling gets harder as you get older. For one thing you often can?t move as well. I used to hop on a bike (can?t now-pinched nerve) with a heavy pack (no-no, bad back) and sleep in the woods on a plastic sheet over pine needles in the forest (can?t do without electricity now). I would bring junk food and eat hot dogs for the weekend (my dietician would die of shock). Not to mention that the MRS. is not a camper (in this life or any other). I?ve gone camping a sum total of once in the decade and a half of wedded bliss. My wife considers a hotel suite ?roughing it.?
Nowadays travel is a matter of kenneling pets, packing meds and getting cash. Not to mention making plans in advance (who in their 20s does a lot of that?). Then it?s arguing about sharing the drive and where do we eat. When I was a kid our parents had that all figured out and when we were in our twenties we just winged it.
I won?t go into the million ifs of the destination itself. I?ll leave that to your imagination.
Then for us comes the nightmare of all nightmares: The battle over how soon to return to the nest. She wants to spend as long as possible away, hopefully returning right before work time. I want a period of time to unload the car and, well, loaf. This tug of war starts as soon as we leave and goes on for the entire weekend. Like anything in marriage it?s a compromise. She gets her way and I fake enthusiasm for the choice.
Sometimes I just get the s***s of it and hop in my car without explanation. I turn the radio up, pick a random direction and just go for an hour or two. This might technically violate the marriage contract, but is necessary if I am to stay married and alive.
Original source: http://caffinatedblur.wordpress.com/?p=123
