The Professional Tourist


The Professional Tourist (and the Back Seat Bellyacher)

I’ve only met Pam and her family a few times over the years. She and I actually started out as pen pals — a mutual friend asked if I’d write to a girl in Indiana. Pam had asthma so bad, they didn’t think she would live very long.

“Sure, why not?” I said.

Well, here we are 50 years later — and she’s still living. (Miracles are alive.)

When her kids heard the story, they instantly nicknamed her “the pity friend.” Can you believe that? Fifty years of letters, laughter, and friendship, and she’s still the pity friend.

We tossed all our bags into the back of a pickup. The tonneau cover had blown off previously, so everything was riding naked in the open air. Our stuff had better hang on for dear life. John, ever the planner, brought along trash bags in case it rained. (Classy luggage covers, right?)

Calvin climbed behind the wheel, John took shotgun, and announced, “I’ll be the back seat bellyacher.”

Shouldn’t he be in the back seat if that’s his role? Just sayin’.

Not to be mistaken for anything other than what I am—a total tagalong—I chimed in: “I’m the professional tourist.” Translation: I bear no responsibility on this trip. I’m not the planner. I’m not the driver. I’m simply along for the ride wherever we may land.

Pam rolled her eyes. Calvin grinned. (I think he knew exactly what kind of trip this was going to be.)

Somewhere on a back road in Kentucky, Pam leaned over and said, “You do know we are virtually strangers.”

Which, honestly, was true. Can you take me to the nearest bus station? 

  I realized—she was right. This trip could go two ways:

  • A story we’d laugh about for years.

  • A cautionary tale about why you don’t climb into the back of a stranger’s pickup truck with trash bags for luggage covers.

So far… it’s leaning toward “laugh about it for years.”

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Really Just TWO?

Image
Camping is the life—especially when I’m the guest and others are responsible for all the work. We woke up to the sound of high winds rocking the camper, then… a huge crash! The awning. Yes, the awning. We had left it up, because why be sensible when the night is warm and balmy? It had been so hot that we hated following the “no generators after eleven pm” rule. We suffered in… not silence exactly, more like an Olympic-level flopping competition, twisting and turning to find some relief, drenched in sweat, like human puddles. Finally, a bit of relief as the wind quickly cooled everything down. And then—the huge crash! Oh no! The awning pole was bent just a little. Not catastrophic… yet. Clint, Pam's #4 sone swooped in like a tiny superhero and helped us get it down. By now, we were all soaked from the sudden rain, so really, what was the point of trying to stay dry? Survival mode: activated. Sweet Clint always the thoughtful one, brought us milk and cereal for breakfast. Tiny pr...
Read more

Fake Home Invasion

My daughter tells her husband and my grandsons, ‘Mema will be here tomorrow, so clean the house.’ Of course, the boys don’t do a thing. They’re gaming, chilling, living their best lives… until they realize' Mom  will be home in ten minutes.’ Suddenly, DEFCON 1 panic. What’s their solution? Do they grab a vacuum? No. Do they pick up the laundry? No. These geniuses go ' Let’s stage a home invasion. Maybe she’ll be so grateful she won’t care.’ They blacken Zak’s eye with shoe polish, tie him to a chair with a pillowcase over his head, scatter broken glass from the trash all over the floor—like a crime scene from CSI: Lazy Teenagers. And of course, Dad’s filming it. Because why clean when you can go viral? Brandy walks in, takes one look around, and goes, ‘What the hell?’ —and trust me, she does NOT normally cuss. She sets her bag down, pulls the pillowcase off Zak’s head… just shakes her head like, ‘This is my circus. These are my monkeys.’ Later, I’m watching the video and ...
Read more

Unrestrained Travis

Image
                                                       Unrestrained Travis    My brother Travis came to visit,  the same week, my mother-in-law passed away.    Perfect time for my kids to get to see Uncle Travis.    The morning of the funeral, we went to breakfast, Travis, my son, Montana,  daughter, son- in- law, grandsons and sister.    We googled a good place to eat near me. The Apple Barrel came up. 4.7 stars. That was the highest rated place with good friendly staff.   We are all dressed like we’re going to a funeral or maybe we’re a new band in town who knows?    “Travis, just behave for today.”   “I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises.”    Our family tries to be serious at a funeral.. We fail a lot.    My brother-in-law passed away a month ago. At th...
Read more