It’s hard remembering a more planned out trip, or one that I worried as much about.
It’s our 25th wedding anniversary – we had to do something special and magnificent and meaningful and fun. What better way than a River Cruise, a slow week down the lazy Rhine amid suspender-wearing goat herders and honest and forelock-tugging bargemen. Sure, why not?
Winter Park Go Travel’s Lucienne set us up well. We went to her when suddenly all the cruises booked up (ten months in advance) and she managed to get us the sort of balcony room we wanted, Basel to Amsterdam, over the date of our Anniversary. And their attention to detail was nothing short of amazing – she gave me two personalized travel packets with our names, our flights, hotel transfers, tourist hints and information, all right there. Stellar!
We’ve had weeks to plan and days to pack – I’ve written down notes for everything that came to mind (when my lens popped out of my glasses and I had to use a paperclip to screw it back home, I jotted down screwdriver on my list. Everything we could need was carefully stowed. The day before, we were fully packed.
So why was I so nervous?
What if the chauffeur limo to the airport was late? What if the flight was delayed? What if I forgot something? What if? What if? What if…?
Last night and this morning, I was opening my suitcase every half hour, thinking “Did I pack socks?” “Underwear?” “My razor?”
I woke up in a panic this morning, 5am, all worried about everything. We sat around until 1pm, with me reading beneath the lap cat, suppressing my jitters.
The limo arrived ten minutes early.
TSA was a drag, but a limited drag, 20 minutes until the shoe-doffing shakedown. We grabbed a table at Ruby Tuesdays and had a nice meal. And now we’re sitting in a quiet corner of the airport, an hour and minutes to spare in my pocket, all ready to go.
Finally I can feel each muscle letting go, twanging like cut bowstrings.
I don’t know why I fret so. Everything’s in order. Everything’s rolling to plan.
See you then.