blogitto ergo sum

December 6, 2007

#120 – I vacation? (Part I)

Filed under: Uncategorized — yael [ya-el] wagner @ 15:06
Tags: ,

packing

The 6 stages of I Vacation:suitcase

Stage 1- denial
Stage 2 – freaking out
Stage 3 – can’t let go of computer
Stage 4 – Potter by the pool
Stage 5 – I vacation
Stage 6 – I want more

It’s all Eli’s fault. He couldn’t make it. So I got his place. And honestly, how can one refuse an invitation to a Caribbean vacation? Even in workaholic land this is unheard of.

So I accepted Ruti’s invitation and got the plane ticket. Completing a two-week biz trip 48 hours earlier wasn’t about to affect my plans.

And so, I had dinner out on Thursday, upon my return, I had dinner out on Friday. Back from dinner, do you think I started unpacking/packing? That would have been so rational, so “the right thing to do”, so not me. So I didn’t.

I clicked on the DVR’s remote and started scanning the shows recorded while I was gone. By Saturday 4 AM, I was done with the essentials, up-to-date with Grey’s Anatomy, Private Practice, Samantha Who (embarrassing, I know), and Brothers and Sisters. And with enough room to support a week recording.

Time to go to bed.

By noon I was up. 7.5 hours to flight’s departure, and I act as if it’s you who’s going on vacation. A shower got some sense and minor signs of hysteria into me. Bathing suits, where the hell are they? How humid is it? Too humid. Do I need a sweater? No! And where are my fluorescent flip-flops? don’t know. Where’s my collection of sunblocks? don’t know. Which suitcase is not in the process of getting unpacked? S- – – , I didn’t even water the plants that waited for my loving care for the past two weeks. Other than the one that couldn’t wait any longer…

And why am I still doing emails? Skype?tied to computer

Frantically I type: “I’m freaking out. I can’t remember when was the last time I took a vacation, and trips to Israel don’t count. Do I still remember how to vacation? doesn’t look that way. HELP!!!”

Now I blindly throw stuff into the suitcase. Useless, needed, impractical… who cares. And these flip-flops, where are they?! Looking for them, ignoring two other pairs who can do the job just fine, I waste more time and add to the house mess.

This is most definitely the time to discuss Action Items via Skype, so I do that too.

Solarcaine, where are you? White skin, Caribbean sun and nowhere-to-be-found sunblock is a guarantee to sunburns. I know!

Still doing emails, still Skype-ing, less in denial, more freakish.

Updating out-of-office auto reply, and it’s 5:47. so I call for a cab to show up @ 18:10-18:15. Printing out the boarding pass leads me to believe that the airport and airline will welcome me less than an hour prior to departure.

flip flopsConsidering that I have 3 flights ahead of me, I decide that a 2nd shower is the best way to use the time left before the taxi’s arrival. It is with physical pain that I turn off computer and router.

10 minutes to cab’s arrival, how many T-shirts do I need? Oh, and a sleep shirt too. Friendship may go a long way, all the way to Virgin Islands, but having to share a room… last time I had to pack a sleep shirt was… WHEN? JavaOne, I remember!

Driver calls. Will be there in couple of minutes, running a bit late.

18:17 I’m outside the building. Cab is nowhere to be seen. “where the F – – – are you?” I almost scream. “here” is the brilliant answer. “I’m here, and you are not, so I ask again, where are you?!”

near Togos”. Acid is running OTA. “and do I sound to you as if l live in Togos” I ask. “blink your lights”. The guy is 50 meter north of me. “roll forward, keep going, keep going..” speechless I watch the cab passing me and Taxi from hellcrossing the lights, in a ONE WAY street. Redial and now I sound lethal “maybe you should get glasses, you just passed me”. “i already have glasses” is the stoic answer I get. “turn right, turn right and wait for me @ the corner” I command. The Einstein of cab drivers makes an extra right turn, just for the hack of it.

All fumes I enter. “Go to the airport, San Jose airport, and don’t bother with prolonging the trip via I-280” I command, as I sit down, open the windows to let the wind cool off the frustration surrounding me. I close my eyes. “United to LA” I remember to say.

 

TBC

Photos Credits:

http://linshaolin.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/cropped-show81.jpg
http://images5.squidoo.com/resize.php?filename=lens1530113_suitcase.jpg
http://images.jupiterimages.com/common/detail/72/97/22849772.jpg
http://yellowdogknitting.com/blog_photos/flip%20flops%20002.jpg
http://www.baptistcourier.com/1736.taxi.jpg.image

 

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