Vacationing on the Outer Banks is special
This is the story of how I got stuck on vacation. One day the word stuck will sound like an exaggeration, but it's not yet.
Late last month, I drove alone to the Outer Banks of North Carolina to meet my son, who had flown in from Los Angeles with his fiance to spend time with his family. He injured his right knee during a long drive. Doctors recommended rest and the use of ice.
Lying in the hotel, I watched a rerun of the 1960s sitcom “Gilligan’s Island,” in which seven people get shipwrecked on an island during a three-hour tour. They were really stuck up, even though they wore fancy clothes and had a whole library of science books. I wasn't that stuck.
But I can't safely drive home by myself.
“I'll give you a ride home,'' said the son. “Then I'm heading back to Los Angeles from Pittsburgh.”
But he was just days away from starting his new job in Kentucky, and he was already scrambling to cover all the travel needs. That wasn't an option.
As I sat there with a thinking cap on my head and an ice pack on my knees, I decided that this kind of predicament is the reason why people hate traveling. When you're away from home, bad things hit you harder.
The kids bought me a knee brace, fed me, and my son made ice packs from a plastic laundry bag in our hotel room and cubes from the ice machine in the hall.
Friends from back home texted me and asked how my vacation went. I shared my predicament with a few people and word spread. Immediately, two of my colleagues offered to drive to pick me up. But how could you ask such a thing? Will he work two days a week and subject himself to harsh driving?
I was able to drive home with one of the family members from Pittsburgh that my son was with. But first I had to get the car home. For the first time in my life, I was involved in a mysterious business called car transportation, which requires tremendous trust and a large amount of capital.
I arranged for my Subaru to be picked up from my hotel at noon last Saturday. The driver arrived 5 hours early but did not speak English so communication about the delivery was impossible. And I respect that this man is just trying to make a living by doing a difficult job, but he and I could not understand each other, even though I could arrive at the office on the weekend. I was lucky. He didn't want to pay for 4 more nights at the hotel, so I handed the driver the car keys and watched him load his new Crosstrek into the trailer and drive off.
The next morning I drove home with two of the nicest people I've ever met. The best part of a terrible week was that and seeing the kids.
We've often heard how gratitude can lift us out of misery and give us perspective. I made a gratitude list and wrote this.
I met the children often and they are kind people. They went deep sea fishing and caught sea bass, cooked it and shared it with me. I have friends who were standing by to rescue me if needed. My son will marry into a nice family. Her daughter called me every day to check on me. I could take the financial hit of everything, but many others couldn't.
My car arrived on time and in good condition. By Sunday night I was back in my bed. Gilligan's group stuck around for three full seasons. I was shipwrecked for only nine days. Still, it was a pretty awful nine days.
