OFF TO ENGLAND
When we were much younger and better looking, MK and I were invited to go to England with SS and SS. We had just finished building new neighboring homes together and shared a large backyard. I told MK that I couldn’t imagine leaving Idaho for anything, including a kind and generous invitation from our new neighbors. MK objected to my travel reluctance and reminded me that this was a great opportunity. I reminded her that she was the one who married me. I was the man in every woman's dream -- a fat, little urologist with rubber shoes and no imagination. And so, as I do whenever I have to leave Idaho, I went grumping off to England. Doesn't that sound fun?
We traveled there with our architect, GR, and his wife KR. GR designed and built both of our new homes and KR skillfully brought the design and interior together, saving our marriage — but not hers. Actually, KR and GR held things together for quite a while before their love train left the tracks.
Our hosts had gone ahead and were already staying in Chartham, England. We followed, one week later, flying from Idaho Falls on a Northwest DC-9 to Minneapolis, then on a Boeing 747 to Gatwick. When we landed in England it was early morning. We spent the day in London, where MK was our tour guide. She had been there before and knew just what to see. For me, nothing says grumpy like 40 hours of sleepless travel followed by walking around London in a travel fog all day. More than once I quietly uttered the “Just take me now Lord” prayer. As I look back on it, the only reason I was able to stay cordial, was because GR and KR were with us -- but that didn't last very long.
At the end of our day exploring London, we finally dragged our wheeled luggage from the lockers to the train that would take us out into the dark countryside to parts unknown. I recognized trouble when we had to tell more than one person where Chartham was and that we really did want to go there instead of the much larger Chatham. Both towns were in Kent and people looked at us like no one ever went to Chatham. In a way, they were right.
We had no assigned seats on the train, but I found a comfortable little booth that was mine until I met the conductor, who told me that our tickets were for another car, where we found a crowded coach and no place to put our luggage. The late May afternoon was humid, but not particularly hot. Still, I was sweating profusely as I tried to crowd our bags into the aisles and limited space under our seats. The more I struggled, the less I was successful until finally I just crushed and manhandled the bags, cramming them into smaller spaces above and below our seats. As I was compacting our luggage, I gave "the speech" to MK, that lucky woman who married me. I began complaining softly, gradually turning up the volume for a truly memorable crescendo-tirade -- in public, in front of our friends, passengers, witnesses, and any angles who may have been watching over us. “THIS is not a vacation. THIS is not fun. I know what a good time is —AND THIS IS NOT A GOOD TIME! If I feel the same way in the morning, as I do right now, I am getting on a jet and going straight to MAUI!" No one else was talking as I finished and I thought that my performance was so good that there might have been some applause from some of my fellow passengers, but that did not happen. MK has more self-control than I do and although she had a clear destination in mind for me to go straight to, she kept it to herself.
Chartham Railway Station A travel-weary two hours later, we arrived at the Chartham Railway Station. No one was there. It might as well have been in the middle of the Arco desert. Upon our arrival, we found a small, unmanned train stop. Fortunately, we found a taxi driver who knew how to get us into town and helped us find the 350-year-old house where we would be staying. The best part of the whole trip was meeting up with our hosts and neighbors from Idaho Falls. They were excited to see us and greeted us warmly. Of course, they had not been with us on the train. MK and our friends have all seen me at my worst. Most are familiar with my resistance to travel, especially when it involves leaving Island Park. They pretty well know everything about me and still love me. At least that is what they say. Ever vigilant, RT
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