Summer Vacation

Cynical as it may be, one could argue that vacation is that time in which families get together for forced fun just so they can appreciate the time they spend apart from one another. Still, this vacation went pretty well and ended with me contracting a serious case of homesickness (and Montezuma's Revenge, but we won't go there).

Day 1

Bryan: Are we there yet?
Dad: No.
Bryan: Then can we go home?
Dad: No.

Day 1 found the family on the road in our Honda-built Conestoga, our Wagonqueen Family Truckster, careening at 95mph over the rolling hills of Missouri, through the hundred or so piss ant towns (aka speed traps) of Oklahoma, and across the wide open plains of Texas in our quest to make Dallas before nightfall. Having accomplished that mission, nightfall on Day 1 brought about the search for "shelf-stable" soy milk--something Bryan requires now moreso out of habit than dietary necessity. After visiting numerous grocery stores, some of which were detestable in odor, I finally gave up and fed Bry's growing Starbocks addiction with a kid's soy hot chocolate, hold the whip. Mini bars--don't rent a room without one.

Day 2

Bryan: Hey Grandpa, do you like sausage?
Grandpa: Why, yes, yes I do like sausage.
Bryan: Hey Grandpa, are you having a good day?
Grandpa: Why, yes, yes I am having a good day.

(isn't the stream of consciousness of a four year-old grand?)

Day 2 was spent mostly driving around Dallas and at one of its many fine malls taking in a movie and shopping. You do a lot of driving in Dallas. It's unavoidable; the DFW Metroplex sprawls across four counties. This sprawl is creeping farther and farther north, and what used to be new and upscale is now tired and worn. This was readily apparent when we drove into town on Day 1. My hometown of Plano, once an All-America City and ranked 11th in 2006 by Money magazine as the best place to live in the US, looked a little less shiny, a little less new than I remember it (hey, O'Fallon was ranked 39th--cool). The hip, happenin' places are Frisco, Allen and McKinney. Still, Plano has a certain charm, due in part to some creative zoning. It's not everywhere that you see a working cattle ranch across the street from a Domino's Pizza, or an upscale subdivision, or say next door to the corporate headquarters of EDS. If you're ever in Plano and find yourself heading west on Legacy Drive just off Preston Road, look left and take a look at these guys:

There's buffalo in the herd, too, but they were off doing their own thing. You can see the top of the EDS building in this shot.

But what I get a kick out of is seeing cattle, horses and alpacas across the street from a Domino's. The Haggard family is one of a few founding families of Plano and still owns and works 2400 acres smack dab in the middle of suburbia.

Day 3

Meg: What the?!
Dad: Hmmm?
Meg: Do you see anything in my hair?
Dad: Guano. Bird guano.

Day 3 found us in San Antonio. I'm not sure why we chose to drive south. In July. In Texas. It's pure masochism, I tell ya, yet it was unseasonably cool (relatively speaking). It rained like the dickens (like a cow pissin' on a flat rock, as they say in Kansas) on the way down. The rain drove all manner of critter inside, including the five crickets that took up residence by the soda fountain at the Whataburger in Temple (mmmmm... mustard, all the way is like talkin' dirty to a Whataburger devotee). This freaked Meg and Lisa out, so we were forced to take refuge in the van while we enjoyed our blessed midday victuals. For Meg, this would not be the only unpleasantry of the day.

We got into San Antonio in the evening and decided to wander the riverwalk. San Antonio is one of those cities of dramatic contrasts. At street level you have filth and crime; on the riverwalk, it's remarkably clean and well-patrolled. We were greeted by this lovely view from our hotel.

We walked for a little over a mile and a half before the kids started to whine. After dinner, we decided to forgo the forced march and indulge in a tour by water taxi. Along the way, Meagan was the unfortunate target of a bird apparently suffering from irritable bowel syndrome. Of course I offered to buy her a cap earlier, but nooooo. Here are the kids post-attack, Meg now wearing my cap (she looks an awful lot like my mom in this photo).

Day 4/5

Days 4 & 5 were spent at SeaWorld. SeaWorld San Antonio is, well, quaint when compared to SeaWorld San Diego. It's like Auggie Busch ran out of money when doing the San Antonio park and settled on the bare bones. For example, I spent the better part of Day 4 trying to convince Meg that the Journey to Atlantis ride was the same as the one she rode in San Diego, minus the staging, music, narration and building that made the San Diego ride cool. Still, as a means of getting wet and experiencing a few momentary negative Gs, it served its purpose. The wave pool and water slides provided the most entertainment, though I had a few "Monk" moments and was forced to suppress the revulsion that comes with the realization that many of my fellow swimmers don't necessarily adhere to a reasonable standard of hygiene, as evident by people coming out of the restrooms in their bare feet. Public restrooms. Bare feet. [shudder]

Day 6

We left San Antonio sunburned and eager to get back to Big D, though this meant spending time with my mother-in-law. As is customary, my mother-in-law and I don't get along all that well, but have come to a tenuous détente over the years. This détente was stressed when she decided we needed to meet her for dinner, but was incredibly cryptic as to where we were supposed to do so. All she could tell us was that it was some Mexican restaurant in Plano, the name and location of which escaped her. After a lengthy phone interrogation, I was able to extract from her a useful landmark, and lo and behold, we ended up at Aparicio's. I once knew an Oscar Aparicio in school. We played soccer together. He was good. I was not. Could it be, I wondered? Sure enough, the restaurant is owned by Oscar's family, and he was managing that night. Nice little reunion.

Day 7

Day 7 was very much like Day 2, only it involved my mother-in-law, who has an incredibly short attention span. Suffice it to say, a movie was out of the question and shopping involved dashing from store to store. After m-i-l left, we headed over to Ikea. Now, we have a fully furnished home and really don't need inexpensive Scandinavian furniture, but Ikea is something of an experience. Lisa said it's best not to design a website like an Ikea store, and now having been trapped in the maze that is an Ikea store, I can understand why. Still, if some great catastrophe were to befall us, being trapped in an Ikea wouldn't be so bad, though my first choice would be Costco. Or, if the whole law school thing doesn't work out, I could see spending my resulting vagrancy whiling away the days at an Ikea. They sell incredibly cheap food, and as long as I maintain a reasonable standard of hygiene, I don't think anyone would know or care that I took up temporary residence in one of the displays. Be prepared--that's what I always say.

Day 8

Everyone: I gotta go potty.

It took us the better part of 13 hours to make it home, mostly because we drank the water. Never drink the water. Never. That, and avoid the Wal-Mart in Muskogee, Oklahoma at all costs. I orbited the parking lot losing IQ points by the second while Lisa and the kids ran in to pick up a few diversions for the remainder of the trip. Thirty minutes later, I was reduced to a drooling imbecile capable of only making left-hand turns... hey, wait, that kinda sounds like NASCA... uh, nevermind.

So that's what I did on my summer vacation. The end.