What am I most excited about?
While I am anxiously awaiting delicious meals, sing-alongs in the car, and catching up with long-lost friends, my excitement for one thing trumps all others: the vast expanse of quasi-wilderness between Chicago and Seattle. If you study my expertly-drawn approximation of our route, you will notice that between the two aforementioned cities, there is nothing but frantic squiggles.
Now, I labor under the likely mistaken assumption that in another life, I could have been an explorer. I should disclose at this point (because if I don’t, I have a feeling someone else will) that I have managed to become lost during a few brave adventures in my life, including locating fireworks over Boston Harbor and meeting friends at an Asian restaurant. [*Ahem* Lyric, if you are reading this….] Those isolated events, however, do not dull my desire to become somewhat more severely lost in the untamed wilds of Minnesota, South Dakota, Montana, and eastern Washington. I’m pretty sure people live in those places, but I’d prefer to stay out of their way. And what is the best way to get away from people?? Camping!
That’s right, it is my grand aspiration to camp at least part of the 5-day, 4-night trip from Chicago to Seattle. Another disclosure: my camping experience consists of a couple of isolated nights in a tent, plus sleeping in a cabin and eating McDonald’s for breakfast at Indian Guides. And yet I am undeterred. Here is how I envision this happening:
Mica: Hey big, burly husband! How is it going?
Harrison: Not bad, actually. I have pitched our tent, created fire by staring at a pile of sticks really intensely, and prepared a gourmet meal from edible foodstuffs foraged from the woods!
Here’s how it will probably go in reality:
Mica: What are you doing?
Harrison: What the hell is this thing in our trunk??
Mica: That’s our tent.
Whatever. I will not be deterred. I shall experience the manly pleasures of camping, and there will be much rejoicing. Here I come, frantic squiggles, here
I we come.