Periodically over the course of my marriage, I've taken to referring to my wife as Zsa Zsa. As in Zsa Zsa Gabor. Why? Well, I'll explain.
I often refer to myself as a simple man. I prefer a simple car, simple clothes, simple lifestyle, and simply trying to always save a dollar where I can. Maybe the simplicity of my life centers around how I was raised or perhaps it was simply in born. Either way, I'm trying to slide through life as easy as possible. There's that word again. Simple. I cannot overstate my desire for simplicity. This desire includes family vacations.
"Where are we going on vacation this year?" Kristi asked while simultaneously brushing her diabetic, mostly blind and hobbling lame excuse for a dog. The pitiful thing is anything but simple, but for further details, you'll need to refer to an earlier story.
"Oh, maybe the Outer Banks. Simple enough, I guess," I answered, studying her expression carefully. I've learned over the years to read my wife's words and expressions before she speaks to find out my answer. She was looking away from me and the dog, with squinty eyes, which meant that she was processing what I'd just said. Yep, processing it in one ear and out the other. It usually means that she's not fond of what I had to say.
"Uh, we did that last year. You said then that we should take a simple vacation to the Outer Banks, and this year we could go big," she said, while commencing brushing the dog, which at the mere mention of the word 'vacation' usually sent the poor animal into a deep depression. Vacations meant a trip to the boarders, which never set well with the spoiled fuzz ball.
I began to think. Surely, she was using the same tactic I had just employed. She was feeling me out through facial expressions and body language. "I said that?" I asked with an incredulous look on my face, not unlike the facial expression I would make while watching a meteor crash through the roof of our house.
"Yes, you did! Ryan, Sidney, come in here please!" she bellowed. Oh no, she was bringing in reinforcements. Supports troops if you will. Occasionally, Ryan would side with me, but on this issue I was a loner, a man on an island. Gilligan Fix. I was about to be over ruled. Sidney almost always sided with her mother as a general rule.
The kids appeared in the downstairs living room with superior speed and stood looking at us. That in and of itself was highly unusual. They usually moved at snail's pace when called by either of us. "What?" they asked in unison, which I also found to be strange.
Kristi spoke. "Did dad or did he not say last year that we would take a big vacation this year?" she asked with her head leaning to one side and bobbing to and fro. I didn't like her tone or the fact that I was on the verge of being overridden once again.
Both kids looked at me. I put on my most pitiful face, the face that says "Please, side with your poor father. I'm getting up in the years, I need your help." More than once I'd threatened them with the old college funding line. Ryan was going to wind up in barber school, and Sidney would be forced into the carnival life, probably tearing tickets for entrance onto the Ferris Wheel or perhaps doling out half dead gold fish at the ring toss game. "There will be no money for college if we don't rein it in!" I'd say time and again to no avail. The college fund is healthy, but they don't necessarily need to know that.
They studied my face briefly and said in unison, "Yep, that's what you said dad! You promised, we remember very well!" I was beginning to wonder if their uncanny ability to recite their answers in unison had been rehearsed. My sinister wife had surely been up to no good, corrupting our kids into joining her in the vacation bombardment. In quick fashion, I was losing the battle. Losing the battle meant airline tickets, overpriced accommodations and food, rental cars and much more. We'd taken several 'big' vacations in the past. They were anything but simple.
"Oh OK, you win Zsa Zsa! We'll do it big this year, but your planning it. Zsa Zsa." I whined. I enunciated the final two words for maximum effect. They had zero effect.
"Fine by me. Call me Zsa Zsa if you must, but I'm not staying in some rat's nest just to save a buck. It ain't happening." To be fair, my wife is very thrifty most of the time and she's what most men would consider low maintenance. However, thrift on vacation planning flies right out of the window. She puts a premium on travel.
I had grown accustomed to the rat's nest comment over the course of our marriage. I would assume that it stemmed from an incident several years ago during a trip to Canada. She had booked our stay in all but one city, which was left to me. Naturally, I did my research and found a lovely little place outside Quebec City which suited our needs and was priced right. Priced extremely right. In fact, I wondered if there had been a slight mix up in communication when the lady (in broken English) told me the price. When we arrived, and entered our room, Kristi was appalled and shocked to find out that our room featured a toilet in the room. I do mean in the room. Like, it wasn't surrounded by walls. I thought it was great. I could watch television while simultaneously answering nature's call. However, the sink and bathtub were in a separate small room, so as far as I was concerned all was well. I briefly pondered how a carpenter could rationalize such an arrangement. I spent several hours driving around the Canadian countryside several times while Kristi, ahem, took care of business. I haven't been given the responsibility of lodging since.
"Oh, alright," I said, defeated, dejected and surely on the verge of becoming a little less well-to-do.
"We're going to Puerto Rico!" Kristi, Zsa Zsa, screeched. The kids high fived. This was a mutiny plain and simple. Immediately, she galloped over to a wooden chest in our living room, and produced several books, pamphlets, and other literature related to vacationing in Puerto Rico. A mutiny for sure. Preplanned and well orchestrated and the children had been used as pawns in my wife's all out assault on my check book.
The next day, I received a flurry of text messages inquiring about airline tickets, lodging, rental cars and the like from Zsa Zsa. "I'm at work. We'll look things over when I get home," I responded. The flurry continued.
Finally, we began to plan our trip. "I like this place," I stated wryly, while I watched Zsa Zsa scrunch her face. She didn't answer, which meant she was still not over the Canada vacation of years ago. "I'm sure the kids wouldn't mind sleeping on an air mattress," I said, while both Ryan and Sidney glanced at me with a look of shock and dismay. I thought they'd better toughen up. Life in the carnival is no picnic. She quickly scrolled past my selection.
"Ooooh, I like this place! It has a private infinity pool! I'm sending an e-mail now!" she said excitedly, while tapping away on the laptop. I grabbed my phone and Googled 'infinity pool'. "Why don't you look at airline tickets?" she continued, before I had educated myself on what an infinity pool even was. I quickly found out what such a pool was. Great, at least I could end it all by swimming off the top of a building. Nice.
After what seemed like days of searching for the best possible deal on airline tickets, I had narrowed my search down to two possible routes. "Alright, this flight originates in Washington, D.C. and stops in Fort Lauderdale on the way down. On the way back, we'll stop in Tampa, which is good," I said, happy that I'd found the best possible deal.
"Why Tampa? This one backtracks through Fort Lauderdale. Plus it will put us back in Washington earlier. That's the best one for the return trip as far as I'm concerned," she said.
"Well, maybe we could see some people we know in the Tampa area during the layover. That'd be nice," I said.
Kristi had that weird look again. "The layover is forty-five minutes! See some people?" she said with a high pitched voice. Her sister and brother-in-law live in Clearwater, so I thought maybe we could see them, if only briefly. "What are they going to do, wave at our plane as we fly over their house?"
I decided to have some fun. "Oh I know some people alright. I know people all over the world. I know some in Clearwater."
"Whatever," she said, without making eye contact. "Let me guess, an old Air Force buddy?" she continued. I thought about the Air Force buddy comment. I did know people from all over the United States, and a few from other parts of the world. Who do I know in the Tampa area? Surely there was someone. Oh well, I could think of someone if I gave it enough thought, and they were probably planning a simple vacation unlike the one we were mired in.
"Maybe, they could wave at our plane as well," I said, tired of vacation planning.
Zsa Zsa finally made most of our arrangements, and I took care of air travel and the rental car. I was happy to have that chore behind us. I'm excited. It's going to be a wonderful trip, and I'm thankful to God that we have the means to allow our children to experience different places, cultures, etc.
I'll be sure to pass on our flight info to our Florida people, just in case they want to wave to our plane as we fly over. I'll be waving goodbye to my checking account and my simple life for at least a week.
