I saw the notice in the window of the travel agent yesterday. It said "$80 Round Trip - Anywhere You Like!" in big letters, and before I knew it, I was in the shop and sitting in the chair, giving the agent my details. I needed a break and this was the perfect opportunity to go. It was cheap, and it would get my mind off of things. What better way to do that than to fly across America and discover somewhere new?
I saw your sign on the window, the $80 round trip. Now, is that to anywhere in the US? I asked, and she assured me that it was. Well, anywhere that the airline flew to. I couldn't go to see my Aunt Jesse in the smallest town in Texas (well, that's how it felt when I was there - they had like two stores and one church, pretty small compared to around here). Not that I'd want to go there anyway. I'd wind up bored out of my mind, and my thoughts would wander, and then I'd start thinking about the stuff that I was going away to forget. If that makes any sense.
Where would I like to go? Well, before I book, do me a favour. The travel agent nods. Talk me out of Tampa, would you? If I start even suggesting anywhere near it, tell me anything so I won't go there. I can't go there, I told her, and she looked confused.
She handed me a sheet of laminated paper with a map on it, and what looked like several hundred dots, all indicating the destinations I could fly to on this magical, forget-about-Kelsi trip. I gazed at it for a few moments before one caught my eye.
What about New Orleans? I asked, pointing to it on the map. I always wanted to go and see the Mardi Gras! Oh, that's over? February? Well, maybe next year. Hmmm…I gazed up to near the top of the map. Chicago? Hold on, what's the temperature there this time of year? Is it cold there or not? Oh, I see, well that might be a bit cold for me, not used to that kind of temperature, I wouldn't know what to do! I'd probably just complain it was too cold and stay locked in the hotel room. That wouldn't be much of a trip, would it?
My eyes somehow managed to travel from Chicago to Tampa. I couldn't go there, though. Isn't there a hurricane due there any day now? Isn't that what I heard? That'd close down the airport, and then I couldn't get there, and that'd be a waste of a week off work. Or was it that it was too hot down there just now. I mean, look at me, I can only take so much heat before I burn. No? Well, is this an old map? I thought that airline announced that it stopped flying to there, not enough profit in it or something. OK, bang up to date, printed off yesterday. Well, think of something, won't you? Because I really can't go there.
It's not that I don't have great memories of that place. I remember my first ride on the Sheikra. I was terrified, but she just laughed and screamed with me, although hers were more of a happy scream than a scared one. And room eight of the Bayside Motel. That's where we stayed the first time we went there and she fell in love with the place while I fell in love with her.
She's still there, you see. And if I were to go there, I'd end up at her front door. She'll probably be living at the same address, I got it in a letter she wrote to me just after she told me she was staying there. And what if I go there and she's not alone? How will I feel then? I don't have much pride left, and I don't need to lose the rest of it. So please, fly me somewhere, anywhere, as long as it's not even remotely near there. It's six months ago this weekend, that's why I need to go so soon, and without your help, it won't be much of a holiday, so please, just fly me anywhere you please, just not the place where my heart broke.