I want a vacation, a proper vacation. I want the kind of vacation where I spend too much money. I want to fly rather than drive. I want to sleep in hotels and eat in restaurants. I want to go sight-seeing, take pictures, and buy postcards. I want the kind of vacation where, when people hear about it, they say, ?Ooh, that sounds so cool.?
Travel is not, as a general rule, something to which I look forward. Most of my travel has not been pleasant. Sleeping under a boat and going without food for more than a week has put me off the idea of being away from my home. I like my bed. I like my pantry. Of course, there is no describing how much I appreciate having a toilet of my own.
Now, as I quickly approach my fortieth year, I find myself with a desire to get away from things a little bit. Nothing permanent, of course, but I would like to put some distance between me and my normal responsibilities.
Picking a destination is the hard part. I am so in love with my native Iowa that I?m not really keen to be somewhere else. Heat and I have never been friends, so tropical destinations are out. With my heart health, I cannot tolerate the cold for very long either. I wouldn?t mind seeing a city, but I always prefer nature.
Wherever I go, I must start making plans now. Saving for a proper trip means I can go during my fortieth summer. A package tour, where I don?t have to think or worry about things, can carry me through a foreign landscape. Then I can be one of those people who say, ?When I went to??
You gotta pick the right guy to do the job.
Go out now and vote for LibertyBob.