The Queen of Overkill Packs It In

 

Carolyn J. Rose

 

When it comes to packing for a long vacation or extended road trip, Mike and I aren’t on the same page. In fact, we’re not in the same book or even on the same shelf in the same bookcase.

 He often fondly recalls the simpler days of the late 60s when everything he owned fit in his car. He fails to recall that the car had bald tires and the inventory of his possessions ran to a few ratty T-shirts and jeans, some even rattier underwear and mismatched socks, a TV with foil on the antenna, and several hundred vinyl records. While he admits preparation can pay off, he still subscribes to the toss-a-few-things-in-the-suitcase-and-go philosophy. He clings to the belief that a forgotten item—no matter what it may be—can be done without or easily purchased along the way.

 I freely admit I deserve to be called the Queen of Overkill. Weeks before a trip to unexplored territory I research the geography of our intended travels, note projected temperatures and precipitation, and consider events we might attend. I consult the Internet for advice about auto maintenance, overnight accommodations, and recommended emergency supplies. Then I survey my wardrobe, check cabinets for personal care products, note vitamins and meds on hand, and make lists of what to take along and what I’ll need to purchase before we depart.

 As I packed my bag during the early years of our marriage, I also tossed the basic things he’d need into his suitcase—a hat, a fleece, a golf shirt, and spare glasses. I’d remind him to take along toothpaste, mouthwash, a hairbrush, and antacid tablets. In return for my efforts, I’d get eye rolls and hear mutterings about the strain of living with an annoying person prone to micromanaging others and thus strangling spontaneity and the spirit of adventure.

 In my defense, I believe being prepared and having adventures aren’t mutually exclusive. I don’t research every mile of our trip to the point where I feel we’ve been before we even depart. I don’t stress about whether to fold or roll clothing. And I don’t pack heavy. I don’t take a kitchen-sink approach. On a bus tour of Great Britain I won praise for a suitcase weighing only half of the 50 pounds allowed.

 In Mike’s defense, he packs light, but in a random and chaotic kind of way, and not with the same priorities I set. If he made a list of what he had to have, headphones, snacks, and crossword puzzles would be at the top. Pajamas and spare socks might not make it.

 Lately, to avoid his muttering, I assume the task of packing only the basic things we both may need—passports and tickets, credit and health cards, vitamins, flashlights, and roadside emergency supplies. Then I arrange my own bag and, often biting my tongue to prevent that dreaded micromanaging, leave him to fill his.

Our different approaches lead to some Titanic-iceberg moments along the way and/or when we arrive. Scenarios often unfold something like this:

Him (alternately plowing through his suitcase and glancing out the window at the pool): “Did we remember to pack my swimsuit?”

Me (rolling my eyes as I unpack my own swimsuit and goggles): “No. We didn’t. Your swimsuit wasn’t on our list.”

 You may note the use of the plural pronoun in the exchange above. I suspect Mike uses it because, after 30+ years, he thinks of us as a team, a unit. I, however, employ it as an imperial pronoun. If he’s going to disregard my suggestions and call me the Queen of Overkill, then I’ll act like entitled royalty and pack an attitude.

19 Days and 4000 miles

 Our mission was simple. Get out of Dodge. See some country. Visit some old and valued friends. Try not to gain ten pounds eating road food. Not inflict any life-threatening injuries on each other. I'm happy to say we accomplished each and every one of our goals.

We set out on Sunday, December 19th hoping to avoid weekday, Portland rush hour traffic. Other than the fog and driving rain our departure went exactly as we'd hoped for. We made it to Mount Shasta. 

Winter had already arrived, but not enough snow had stacked up to cause Big Red to slip and slide. We drove on in wintery conditions to Susanville. 14 degrees, but no ice on the road. 

We stopped the second night in Tonopah, Nevada, where, at Carolyn's insistence, we didn't stay in the Ghost Clown Motel. 

Apparently, the whole John Wayne Gacy thing 

soured her on clowns forever. Geez, let one guy in white face paint, big shoes and rubber ball nose go off the tracks and slaughter some children and they ruin it for all of us with fond childhood memories of Bozo, Buttons, and all the rest of the good guy clowns. 

Speaking of jokers and clowns, on to Las Vegas.

We stayed with Mike's best friend Michael and his wife Mia. We had a great visit with our Goddaughter Kiri and her teenaged kids Alina and Michael. All of us attended a performance of the Van Gogh Experience. Multi-media, Virtual reality and certifiable mind-blowing. We also took in Fremont Street in downtown Vegas, which combined bright lights, laser graphics and street performers of all kinds. Up until that moment, I'd never seen a bonus size hooker in an ultra-tight-and skimpy Santa outfit. Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho!

We set out for Albuquerque on day 8, stopping in Winslow, Arizona to pay tribute to one of The Eagles finest moments. 

Humming "Take it Easy" all the way out of town, we outran the snow and eased into Holbrook, Arizona. After driving by the Mesa Italian Restaurant, we asked the desk clerk at our motel if it was any good. He said it was the only restaurant in town he'd recommend. We ate a terrific meal there. 

On Monday, we made it to Albuquerque after an easy morning's drive and stayed with our friend Faye. Carolyn went with her to help her buy a new car the next day. Carolyn (who has a track record of bringing car salesmen to their knees) warned Faye not to show too much enthusiasm in front of the rep. After getting behind the wheel of a Ford Eco-Sport, her first words were: "I love this car!" Carolyn still managed to negotiate a good deal for our friend. And she loves the car. 

We caught up with many friends from our days in living in the Land of Enchantment. On the third Sunday of our journey we left Albuquerque and stayed the night in Willcox, Arizona. On reflection, I'd say Willcox was a great place to be leaving the next morning. Monday we arrived in historic Tombstone, Arizona. 

Mike was able to stand outside the O.K. Corral and go all Doc Holliday.

We later found out the actual line Val Kilmer was supposed to say was "I'll be your huckle-bearer!" (pall bearer) but the actor got a little carried away with the dialect he was using for the Doc. Next up was Bisbee, another old historically preserved town, but very artsy-fartsy full of itself. We stayed in Sierra Vista that night (motto-we're sprawled all over the damn desert) and visited more friends.

Tuesday, we pushed on to Lake Havasu.

Some years ago, someone got the bright idea to buy the London Bridge (they were building a new one) dismantle it and move it to the middle of the desert. Despite wondering what they were smoking, you have to admit it was a successful endeavor. It drew millions of tourists and a bazillion sunbirds to the area. A local recommended La Vita Dolce for Italian food and Carolyn once again satisfied her unquenchable hunger for great Italian food. 

Our beloved Garmin (We nicknamed her Geraldine) guided us to a lovely off ramp in Fresno. After escaping with our lives, we moved two more ramps up the road and found a less seedy place to spend the night. We have profound hopes that our lives will never send us back to Fresno. Ever. Ever, ever.

Getting the "We really want to be home" bug we made it to Ashland, had dinner with Mike's niece Jodi and her spunky daughter Megan and looked forward to our last two days on the road. We detoured to the Oregon Coast via Elkton and Arlene's Cafe. Mike first came here with his father when he was 8 or 9 years old. The chocolate cream pie (we split one piece, honest) is to die for. After chowder and clam strips at Mo's in Lincoln City (burrrrp!) we had to detour around much of Tillamook because of standing water. Slow going but we made Astoria, our final stop before zipping home the next morning.

Mike and Carolyn click the heels of their ruby slippers together. 

(in unison)

"There's no place like home! There's no place like home!" 

In closing, let me say our journey was made easier by the master packing job, my wife and traveling companion Carolyn did. She planned for every eventuality. She helped me get rid of a year's worth of badly worn underwear and socks, left knotted in the wastepaper baskets of motels across the Southwest. I can only imagine the conversations by the maids of those places the next morning. But, bottom line, we had everything we needed and more. I'm not sure why she packed a pressure washer and half a dozen hand grenades, but I've learned not to ask. 

It was a great trip. Mission accomplished. 

Mike and Carolyn Take to the High Seas

Mike and Carolyn aboard the Titanic

Actually our home-away-from-home on the water was the Holland America Liner the ms Maasdam. 

After seven days of big fun, followed by one day of airline travel Hell, we’re back from our vacation: a cruise through New England, the Maritime Provinces and the St. Lawrence Seaway. Ports of call included Bar Harbor, Maine, Halifax and Sydney, Nova Scotia, Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, Quebec and Montreal.

Still trying to get used to terrain that doesn’t roll and shift under our feet, we’re also trying to sort out the experiences, sights, sounds and impressions we gained from our shipboard and excursion experience. Here are a few.

• A cruise is the perfect way to unwind and withdraw from the stress of work-a-day or even day-to-day life. There are no chores to perform, no critical decisions to make and no real obligation to do anything besides gratify your immediate needs. In my thirty plus years with Carolyn, I’ve never seen her so relaxed and content. Which brings me to:

• Food.  Creative, flavorful and abundant. Holy Gorgeioski is there a lot of it. I saw people with plates piled high from the mind-boggling buffet at the Lido restaurant who will probably move up two pant sizes upon their return home. If you’re predisposed to gluttony, this is Nirvana. We tried to control ourselves but still probably put on a pound or two. Back to the gym and a diet of cereal and celery for a while.

Pastry sculpture from the shipboard chefs. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

• The shore excursions were fun and interesting. From seeing humpback whales up close to a scenic bus tour of Prince Edward Island’s lighthouses, they made the “away” time from our stateroom fun and educational

Puffin on his way to an important engagement 

 

  

• We met a lot of great people from all over the planet; some were experienced “cruisers” and others, like us were experiencing life on the open water for the first time. Of course, there were also the boors, who rarely smiled, pushed their way to the front of the buffet line and verbally abused the hard-working service people who continued to smile and try to be helpful no matter what the ugly Americans, Canadians, Aussies, Germans or Japanese subjected them to. The lesson learned is that there are whiners, complainers and self-centered sociopaths no matter where you are. The trick is learning to ignore them and not allow them to spoil your fun.

We can’t say enough about the mostly Indonesian and Filipino crew who made our time on the Maasdam unforgettable. They work insanely long hours, for minimal pay and are highly attuned to anticipating your needs. They smile constantly, remember your name despite the fact there are 1200 plus guests on the ship and never complain. Suli, who bussed tables and brought refills of coffee, iced tea and water to our table had an infectious giggle that seemed to reflect genuine joy. Asep and Frevian who spiffed up our stateroom twice a day left us creative gifts such as the towel-art you see here: 

 

The colorful towel peacock

 

Sting-Ray ala towel

 Our waiter in the Ocean Lounge (whose name, unfortunately escapes what’s left of my mind) always had a smile, a laugh and shipboard news to share with us. The lovely Filipino lady who made my morning white chocolate mocha started my brew before I even got to the counter. It’s impossible to overstate how important these people are to making your cruise a treasured memory. If you take a cruise, be sure to thank them and tip a little extra beyond the obligatory service charge that’s a part of your shipboard bill. They earn it and many of them are sending money home to support family in their part of the world.

Finally, a word about the last day. Part of it is my own fault for trying to save a buck on air travel. I booked a trip with too many stops, too many possibilities for aggravation and too many tight connections. Next time I’ll pay the extra bucks for a non-stop flight. We were tired, got consistently wrong information from the airline personnel we encountered, had to endure people carrying on loud conversations in French over the top of us and a flood of airline announcements in a language we couldn’t comprehend. Too often we found ourselves jogging through airport terminals. Plus, the airline lost our suitcase. It’s expected back sometime in the next couple of days.  Midway through the ordeal, I feared that if one more airline clerk greeted Carolyn with a sullen “Bonjour” they’d find themselves on the tiles with her forearm at their throat. She was, as the Queen is known to say, “not amused.” It took fifteen minutes of face licking from her faithful dogs and a good night’s sleep in her own bed to return her to her old cheerful self.