Puerto Rico…Getting There
I had had a rough day at work at Scholastic not because I had done anything wrong, but after six weeks of working I was told that my services would no longer be necessary after my trip to Puerto Rico. I was extremely disappointed, but I still had two articles to write for “Junior Scholastic.” Also, could I really be that disappointed after writing six articles and working on about 20 different other projects for “Junior Scholastic”? It was surreal in a way because after I was told this information from my boss I wasn’t really sure how to finish out my day. It felt somewhat awkward.
The last time I had had something serious in my life come to a sudden halt was my relationship which had lasted six months and then just ended- or that’s how it felt to me. It was interesting how the emotional reaction I had when my boss told me that my time at Scholastic was done was extremely similar to how I reacted to the end of my past relationship. This “protective shield” feeling seemed to encapsulate my body, and my body and mind seemed to slow down as I tried to understand what was happening and trying to make sense of everything that was going on. Perhaps it’s an attempt to gain some control over a situation I feel I had no control over, but once I realize that the situation was out of my control, I humbly accepted both decisions and tried to get on with my day/life. Interestingly, I tried to get feedback from both situations before feeling that my ties were totally cut. Unfortunately, there are serious long-term affects as a result of both situations but my post-Scholastic reaction is probably being delayed by my winter trip to Puerto Rico.
“Wait, how long are we going to be in Puerto Rico?” I asked my mom as she hauled a very large red rectangular suitcase from her room.
“Take this to the car,” she responded as the suitcase fell against the wall making a large “Thud” sound.
“Aren’t we going for a week?” I became more anxious as I realized that I would be the one burdened by my mom’s excess packing.
“Yea, you know that Stu. You don’t need to ask such dumb questions, you know?” mom retorted.
I was perplexed beyond belief, and didn’t know how to make sense of the situation. As I rolled her 45 pound suitcase outside I saw five other suitcases of equal size lined up in our driveway. “What the hell is going on?” I thought to myself. “Where does everyone think we’re going?” Actually, it didn’t make a difference where we were going or even how long our trip was. If there’s one golden rule I’ve learned about travel is that you don’t need to bring much clothing or accessories on any trip. It’s easy and useful to re-wear clothing for a few days and how many times can one change clothing during a day or a week? Honestly.
“So what do you have in there?” I asked my sister as I heaved her suitcase into the back of our Suburban.
“Shoes,” was her response in a passive tone, as she finished texting one of her millions of friends.
No one realized my reaction to her comment, but there was a sudden pang that ran through my body. It’s one of those pangs that I feel every now and then that has no rhyme or reason, but forces a mental connection to my memories of Suz. My mind flashbacked to when I was watching her unpack her clothes and accessories for her trip to New York, and I posed a similar question to Suz as I had to my sister, as I was amazed with the amount of stuff she had brought to New York for a few days. I thought it was incredible that she had brought so much clothing and stuff to look good for me, but thought it was incredible that she had a pair of shoes for each day she was in New York. Since I was already familiar with many of these women eccentricities, since I grew up with a sister very close to me in age, I took it all in stride and felt that Suz must have really liked me to want to look good all the time. However, as I stood there hauling my families luggage into the car I despised the thought of this type of travel.
Somehow my suitcase seemed “meager” compared to the monstrosities of luggage the rest of my family was bringing to Puerto Rico. I wasn’t 100% sure if I had misjudged the length of our trip as I helped load the luggage, but I was beginning to have some extremely serious doubts about this vacation already and we hadn’t even left our driveway. These were the type of people I chuckled at as I walked around Europe, the U.S., Asia and the Middle East. These were the people who’s goal was to re-locate their home and comforts of daily life to a new establishment hundreds or even thousands of miles away, and to not try to assimilate into the culture and world they were traveling to. This was the type of person I was before I lived abroad in Europe….thank goodness so many things had changed since 2005.
As we were dropped off at JFK I easily rolled my suitcase to the ticket check but was then verbally assaulted by my family that I wasn’t helping anyone. “Why should I suffer because of your erroneous decision?” I thought to myself, and laughed out loud when they brought up these questions. It’s not that I didn’t want to help the people I love more than anyone else in the world. It’s definitely not that. What I was trying to do was help them realize that if you can’t easily move your luggage around and it’s become an inconvenience, then you probably are messing up somewhere, and should re-evaluate the situation. This realization would definitely not occur at this time, and probably never in my family, so I grabbed one of my mom’s three bags and carried my backpack, murse, suitcase and mom’s bag to the gate to check in. I also want to mention that I was accused at least a dozen times on my traveling “skills” by my family with a very sarcastic, “and you’ve traveled all over the world?” response. I’ve gotten this response from so many people, if not everyone I’ve traveled with before, and I find it ridiculous because there is no “proper” way to travel. Everyone has different interests and desires and I’m still learning what’s the best way for me to make the most out of a trip. Every trip is so much different than every other trip I’ve taken during the past two years because I’m either traveling solo, with a friend, or family, or meeting up with friends, using cars, boats, trains, planes…and well, basically I’m never in an identical situation as I may have been during my past travel experiences. I think it’s unfair for anyone to accuse someone who’s traveled often that they’re not an expert, because honestly, no one can be an expert in “traveling” because so many things are out of one’s control. Weather, disasters, threats, freak accidents, strikes and a million other things can delay plans, or cancel them altogether, and I think that if I’ve learned anything from my travels it’s that (1) it’s allowed me to react to dreary or dire situations in a much more composed state of mind, and realize that there are always alternatives if something goes wrong, and it’s how do I fix this situation and not become fixated on something that’s already gone wrong and (2) realizing that I have a personal mission whenever I travel - I want to understand what makes that neighborhood, town, city, country “click” and the only way I can do that is by immersing myself into it’s culture through walking, eating, drinking and trying my best to experience what life would be like in these foreign areas in a short amount of time. Of course this is impossible, since living in an area is completely different than visiting it for a day or two or even a week, so I try to see the highlights, and enjoy as many cultural experiences as possible, and then try some crazy stuff while I’m at it to keep things interesting.
So after I had been accused for messing up for the hundredth time by my family we had checked in four bags weighing 50 pounds, three other bags weighing 35 and then my rolling suitcase at a 20 something. Everyone was already upset with how different I was and how unprepared I was for the trip. My only thoughts were on “What the hell am I going to do after I get back from Puerto Rico? I’ve still got TimeOut thank goodness, but something else is going to have to fill that void other than Stop & Shop.” Oh, the craziness of the post-college life.
I suddenly realized that this trip would be so completely different than my previous trips during the past two years when everyone checked into “The Admiral’s Club,” at American Airlines. “The Admiral’s Club” is a club for travelers who pay a high fee to have their own, though not very private, area in the airport where you can munch on a poor selection of snacks, receive free non-alcoholic beverages and pay the regular fare for the alcoholic ones. I didn’t see any real advantage of joining this “prestigious” flyer’s club as I took a seat and continued reading Bill Bryson’s “A Walk In The Woods.”
After munching on some food and drink my sister and I headed down to the airport terminal near our gate and saw people boarding our flight. No one in our traveling group seemed to take notice of our flight status, but I called my mom and told her about what was happening, and realized that she had already checked into the flight. “Way to go Stu,” I thought to myself.
The 3 1/2 hour flight included me reading my book, listening to my iPod, chatting with my sis, and having my mom drop off some food. Fortunately, nothing too eventful happened, which is always a good thing in my opinion, on the plane flight. We landed and amazingly, no one clapped. I wanted to stand up in the cabin and thank everyone for not clapping. It never made much sense to me why people clapped when plane’s landed. This was a phenomenon that seemed to spread like wildfire in the post-9/11 world, because I don’t remember it happening often when I was younger, but had made me seriously concerned about the typical American traveler.
If we didn’t land, that was a serious problem for everyone on board. However, I don’t think we should be applauding the pilot’s for doing their jobs either. I guess I have difficulty imagining people standing up and “booing” airline captains when we don’t land safely. Presumably, we’d all be dead, except for the one guy who’s survived the incident and begins clapping after rummaging through the debris. Just land the damn plane, and passengers, please stop clapping. Soon people will be clapping when we take off, or something crazy like that will happen if we don’t stop this nonsense immediately. Wow, why am I so bitter thus far…?
We waited for about an hour to collect all nine pieces of luggage before taking a ridiculously overpriced cab to our hotel - The Embassy Suites in San Juan. I talked with the cab driver on the way to the hotel about some inconsequential facts about Puerto Rico, and was glad when we pulled up to the hotel ten minutes later in Isla Verde.
My sibilings and I christened our vacation that evening with wine for my sis, tequila and beer for my bro, and jack and coke, and a shot of Johnnie Walker Black on ice for me. My sister had a couple drinks, I had a couple, but my brother had around five or six. I hadn’t spent this much time with my family in awhile, and I was beginning to see some disturbing realities in the transformations of our lives since everyone had gone their own ways in college. Most noticeably was my younger brother’s attitude towards drinking. Let me throw it out there that I’m fond of socially drinking with my friends and at parties, and I’ll occasionally over-consume depending on the event or how I’m feeling, but this has happened so rarely during the past year and a half, and wasn’t ever a problem or a remote concern before that. Since I’ve started running regularly I’ve tried to live a somewhat healthier lifestyle, but I still enjoy having plenty of fun. I just found it sickening to watch my brother drink at the rate he was going. What had happened to him during the past few years? What joy, or reason did he have in drinking that often? He seemed to be trying to convince himself that he was having a good time because of the alcohol instead of just enjoying the free time away from school/work. I found it extremely sad and am concerned about where my brother’s life is going in that department. I don’t tell him what to do in any area of his life, but I’m sure he’ll figure things out eventually, or maybe not. I then hit the blackjack tables and lost $40 really quickly before calling it a night.
Tags: Puerto Rico, Travel
