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Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Holiday vacation pans out like script for Chevy Chase movie
As if the month of December isn’t busy enough, we decided to travel (yes, again, seems we never learn) and visit family for Christmas.
My husband’s family spans the globe. After months, (OK, years) of procrastinating, the pleas from abroad finally got to us. It was our turn to make the trip. (sigh)
Not just any trip, like our annual road-trips to Kansas, but literally, abroad this time; Europe (gotta love airline miles).
Just the thought of the long flight with three kids drained me of patience, but uttering the mantra my mom put in my head (“Keep calm and carry on.”), I plunged forward into the energy-draining abyss of Travel With Children.
Miraculously, and despite the weather, we made it to our destination with minimal delays - not a bad start (but, yes, that was my daughter who slept only 45 minutes of the seven hour flight and whined the entire time to be let out of her seat).
When we arrived - BAM! - jetlag (jetlagged parents + jetlagged kids = bad combo).
Our classic “European Vacation” began at the car rental office. The car we rented - a station wagon for our family of five, plus accesories - was no longer available. Of course.
After 30 minutes of pleading over a language barrier, we were “upgraded” to a mini-van.
“Is it parked far away?” my husband asked.
“No, right outside that door,” said the rental agent.
We picked up our four suitcases, three car seats, three carry-ons, coats, a stroller and three groggy children and proceeded into the cavernous parking garage.
Our “ride” was parked on the very top level of a parking garage the size of Denmark, in the furthest corner parking spot available (no exaggeration).
Breathless and freezing in the snowy cold, we arrived, key in hand to find a van equivalent in size to a Matchbox car.
Few vehicles in Europe are much bigger.
Things began to seem ominously like a Chevy Chase movie.
After a Clark Griswold-like tantrum, my husband, sprinted back to the rental desk to inform them that not even our luggage would fit in the tiny Fiat “van” on donut tires.
The tired and cranky kids and I (also, tired and cranky) waited, squeezed into the mini-mini-van, while our luggage froze to the pavement outside.
30-minutes later my husband returned in an over-sized, nine passenger “WE ARE TOURISTS!!” van.
It was the largest vehicle on the road in the entire country for 10 days, but we all fit, luggage included!
We made the three hour drive through the mountains to our destination, safely arriving at my brother-in-law’s home, and thankfully, without further incident.
We breathed a sigh of relief but, that was only day-1.
(To be continued …)
Email this contributing writer at Motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com.
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