Hans and I are gearing up for our trip next week to Paris and Geneva in celebration of Hans' middle brother's fiftieth birthday. I have to finish 10 place mats, make sure I know where my passport is, and dig out some spring clothes.
I'm hoping for a smooth trip and Hans is the most wonderful person to travel with; he's so easy going, but I feel awful about being the vacation jinx.
I know I've mentioned my affliction in the past and perhaps you think I exaggerate but just let me share with you some of my past vacation issues.
There was the time an old boyfriend and I went on a weekend getaway and it ended up being the coldest weekend on record IN THE SOUTH and I spent it in a cabin with frozen pipes and a greyhound with horrendous breath.
One time a group of women extended an exclusive invitation to me. It was going to be a beautiful, AUTUMN horseback riding trip and it was something they had done for years and I nearly gagged with excitement at being included.
Well, it snowed sideways for 3 days straight and the temperature never went above the 20's. At the 'ranch' where we stayed, our hostess served us lukewarm black sludge (disguised as coffee) in an unheated sun porch and have you ever tried to eat with mittens? But the cou' de gra was when one of the horses had a seizure and fell on one of our group, both separating and breaking her shoulder (this merits a post in itself).
Oh, and I forgot. The husband of the friend who invited me, left her while we were away. I just talked to her the other day and I cringed when she told me that this was the last trip that particular group has ever taken together.
And then once, in a fit of madness, I took the only 3 days of vacation that I'd been allotted for the year at my new job, and took three teenage girls on a mini vacation.
Can you say masochist?
It started at the first rest stop when my middle daughter puked all over the place (this was nothing compared to her behavior for the rest of the trip), and continued when the brand new van I had rented, lost it's steering the day after we arrived at our destination, but before we could get to the amusement park that I'd spent way too much money on. That's really only the tip of the iceberg (believe me when I say I have more) but I think I've know all along why Hans and I are treated like Bonnie and Clyde at the airport.
Three years ago we were on our way home from Florida and we'd just boarded our plane. Hans had opened up his laptop for some quick, last minute work, when the seat in front of him slammed back and drove his computer into his knees. He immediately reacted and while saying "Hold on a minute" he pushed the seat forward. The seat was then repeatedly slammed back into his computer (with complete disregard as to what it may have been hitting) while Hans continued to push it forward. Before we knew it one of the passengers screamed for security, I became somewhat hysterical, and I can still see the look of terror on the faces of the passengers around us.
In the meantime Hans told the crazy, seat slammer that she was crushing his legs and anyway she wasn't supposed to put her seat back until takeoff and she said that Hans didn't own the plane and she couldn't help it if he was so 'big'. And then Hans with a very hurt look on his face said he couldn't help it if she had frizzy hair, and we were all almost thrown off the plane!
And you wonder why I'm concerned.