Expect to Trip

Though my darling Fatty, the sweet love of my life, is 8 years my junior, he at times hits me with solutions so sound it's hard to argue.

Though we do anyway.

Fatty: It's very important for us to express our individual expectations.

Several months ago I was sitting a white linen and brown paper covered booth table with friends. On this table was a potted white orchid, a dog house gift from Fatty. It was the commencement marker for all the fights we will have in our lifetime together.

And believe me, there are plenty. The kind that reduce me to the emotional intelligence of a 6 year old jumping on the spot while stomping my foot accusing him of being a Crazy Bitch Bastard.

And meaning it.

But back at the table of linen and brown paper...
Along came a spider
Who sat down beside her.
Who said, "I'm going to Amsterdam
Wanna come?"

In the spirit of choosing "yes" over "no", I opted for the former.

But why just stop at Holland? Why not Belgium? Germany? The UK, too?

Hang on a second. All these countries share something in common.
Exemplary beers.

The Comrade: This could be Beer Tour 2005! Dear Spider, we'll see you in Amsterdam.

But things don't always go as initially planned.

My first alcoholic purchase was lemon gin. Don't try this at home. It will blind you. Tanqueray gin is lovely. That was my second purchase. I will find a particular drink and it becomes my drink of choice for years at a time. From gin I went to tequilla. Tequilla to single malt scotches. From the peat I went to pilsner beer and Russian vodka. Now I'm kind of off the beer.

Great.

In a vodka haze one night we learned that many of our cherished friends and family will be in that part of the world around the same time as we'd planned.

Interesting.

Hops/ Barley to
Friends/ Family

Works for me.

We are leaving tomorrow at 17:30, commencing the 2005 European Friends and Family Tour.


We fly from Toronto (YYZ) to London Gatwick airport. Once departing the plane we will hunt down the bus terminal housed within the airport. A six hour bus ride on the left side of the road will take us to Fatty's 90 year old grandfather who will hopefully remember to pick us up in his stately car. Seaside, the lovely retirement community Teignmouth (pronounced Tinmeth), in the southwest of the country, is the town.

Expectations of this trip:
Pints and curry.
Clotted cream, strawberry jam and fresh scones with the Earl of Grey.
Hearing the correct pronunciation of can't.
Anything more would be gravy on my steak and kidney pie.

After a 2 day visit we reboard the bus enroute to London Stansted airport. Hopefully there will not be a grudge match, which leads to the evolution of our current fighting - wrestling to settle a score. We need to sleep 5 hours to board a little plane to Verona, Italy.

Where apparently there will be an accordian player, handsome Milano models and Limoncello to welcome us upon our landing. If our welcome wagon does not show up, Fatty's parents have promised to pick us up. On sabbatical Fatty's dad, the doctor who did something major not unlike Russell Crowe had in the Insider, has rented an appartemento in the heart of the city. Apparently the apartment has a bidet.

These have always slightly creeped me out.

We're off via train to Venice for the day. Gondola. Gondola. Gonorrhea. I hope only to catch the first two.

Expectations:
Order something from a menu that I don't understand, but have to eat anyway. A person has to live with her choices.
Please, God. Please don't have me order horse. Or pig's feet. Everything else I'm pretty much fine with.
Visit the cemetery. (It's a thing)
Get drunk and laugh like mad with my future in-laws.
Mange, mange until I can't see.

Hungover, certainly, Fatty and I will board another plane. This one's headed for Amsterdam.

Expectations:
Visit and sample the selection offered at one of the many hashish bars.
Ride bikes while very drunk and slightly high.

Then we're off to Prague where we will be collected by Ack, the ex-husband/best friend, who will be acting as tour guide and translator.

Expectations:
Constant consumption of beige food.
Visiting the cemetery. (It's still a thing)
Drinking the best beer in the whole world.
Seeing a puppet version of Mozart's The Magic Flute.

Ack's borrowing his mother's car. She has a property in the Czech countryside that she lives in 6 months out of the year.

Expectations:
General passive aggression.
Aggressive bitching about her side of the family.
Listening to complaints about the recent scourge of Vietnamese immigrants.
(While reminding his mother of Monsanto's Agent Orange plant, situated in the Czech Republic, Ack said, "They're coming home!")
Smoking cigarettes with Ack's grandma.
4-6 hour hikes with Evil Ack, the goddamned hiker.
Being force fed pig's feet.

And some people say my expectations are too high.

I expect everything will change.
And I hope I embrace it.