Travel log 2009-January 2
On the road to Colorado and Utah and already the first aha of the trip is painfully clear; A 45 hour road trip is not the best follow- up to a new years eve eating feast and hangover. Prune juice and absolute silence in a cold dark room is what I would have done in retrospect, but instead, I woke up in the wee hours of the morning (9:30am) on Jan 2 (I don’t know what happened to Jan 1) crawled out into an amazing sunshine filled Florida day simply to voluntarily load my mildly enthusiastic dragging a-- into an over packed SUV, to set out on a 300,000 mile trek across the country to the cold icy oxygen deprived wild west. I’m sooo excited!
As the day matured and after what seemed to be hours and hours, and miles and miles of monotonous long droned out highway, laid out in front of me like the 50 year sentence of an innocent woman, I saw a road sign coming into view just ahead. Filled with anticipation, I was sure the sign would say “Welcome to Texas”, so you can imagine my grave disappointment when I read . “Orlando International Airport.” I immediately tried to remember Drew’s phone number as the conversation in my head was going something like this. “Happy New Year, Sweetie!” Listen, I parked the car in slot R3, Park and fly. Would you be a love and pick it up this afternoon and drive it out to me in Colorado. Thanks baby! I’ll see you there.”
But before I could dial, my amazingly optimistic friend Paula (Rev. Paula Langguth Ryan to some) wh
o graciously agreed to take a month off ( which is how long I now suspect the driving portion of the trip will take) to accompany me to Utah, to kick off the ski season exclaimed with enthusiasm, “How fabulous! We’re one percent into the trip!” Of course, she wasn’t trying to recover from a torrid love affair, (more like a one night stand) with Patrone Tequila like I was. It’s easy to be happy when your brain still fits in your skull.
Unbeknowist to her, endless opportunities to exercise ministerial size patience, compassion and basic non-violence skills had only just begun. I was the primary driver on this first day but typically, on a road trip, my job is to be the Navigator. The Navigator is the co-pilot control freak who decides where we go and how we get there.
Four hours and only 124 miles into this outlandish attempt to get to Utah without using frequent flyer miles, I became outrageously judgmental about how the navigation job should be done. For example, Paula measures travel progress by percentage, announcing each completed 30 miles with glee, like a two year old who lives by the airport announces every time a plane fly’s by. “Three percent! ” and “Look mommy, it’s a plane!”, start sounding remarkably the same when your head is shrunken. Not to mention, three percent doesn’t sound like good news to me. I’d rather hear something like, “Just six miles to the next designer outlet.” Or “We should be in a Holiday Inn sleeping by 6pm” is better than, “Four percent.” What kind of navigational motivational school did she go to anyway?
In actuality, the trip and her company has been delightful from the very first sunshine filled moments. It’s not the road trip to Utah but rather a journey of a greater magnitude that I’ve embarked on this New Year. Barbara J. Winter described it best when she wrote, “When you come to the edge of all the light you know and are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing that one of two things will happen; there will be something solid to stand on or you will be taught to fly.”
I know it sounds like I’m driving, but in actuality I’m learning to fly.
21% there and thinking of you my friend.
Love and Light Rosalie
