Thursday, December 10, 2015

Lessons from the Road, Part Seven

Goodbyes Suck

Because we are nothing if not awesome, the Young Prince and I argued on our last day. Partly because we had been together 24/7 for several days, partly because I was really sad to be heading off into the sunrise without him, and partly because of stuff I'm sure I can't begin to understand. The point is, saying goodbye to someone you love sucks, all day long.

We dropped Alex's stuff off at his apartment (seriously, the amount of stuff it takes for a college guy to remain on this side of the grass boggles the mind) and headed out into the world.
GCU's mascot is an antelope. Lopes UP!

























We went to Churn for ice cream. And lo, it was good.
Pretty sure this is exactly how Alex felt having me in Phoenix. 


Somehow, the day slipped away from us. Our plan to lay by the pool, ride the slides and gorge ourselves on barbecue was interrupted by college friends (and let's face it - you'd be happy to see 20-somethings, too, if you'd been trapped with your middle-aged aunt for four straight days) and by the time we finished arguing, it was time for dinner. We decided to go to Top Golf, a souped-up driving range with targeted golf games and beer. It was the ideal spot for us to relax, regroup and watch a Phoenix sunset. 
Such perfect form!


























We had a few sliders and played a couple games and we talked. A lot. After we returned to the room, we talked. Late into the night, we talked. Of all the souvenirs I procured on the trip, the conversations are the things that can never be replaced. Long into the night, we talked, covering controversial topics on which we most decidedly do not agree, and winding up with hugs and the realization that yes, the best people to keep in your life are the smart people who disagree with you. 

Too soon, it was time for sleep. Too soon, the alarm rang. 

Way, way too soon, my favorite person dropped me off at the airport. 

In the months since, I've continued to be a bad communicator. (Spoiler alert: so has he.) Much as I plan to connect, I tend to think of things I want to say to Alex when I'm in the middle of a meeting, or on a treadmill ... neither of which being ideal for a phone call.

I've missed him terribly since he left, but we made a lifetime of memories and learned a lifetime of lessons on an epic, cross-country road trip. 

Here's to many more.

Thursday, November 12, 2015

Lessons from the Road, Part Six

It's a Dry Heat - making the best of it


They say that about Arizona. "It's a dry heat." As if somehow sticking your head in the oven is comfortable vs. sticking your head in the sauna. Dry heat, by definition, is still hot.

When we arrived in Phoenix, it was about 300 degrees. (Or, to be more accurate, 114 ... and that's actually not an exaggeration.) It was hot. Uncomfortably hot. Can't-sit-outside-for-too-long hot.

In the chill that is Illinois in November, I miss this.


And yet I remember thinking to myself, "there's going to come a time in the not-too-distant future when I'm going to need this memory."

It's mid-November in the Midwest, and I'm pretty much there.

So yeah ... it's a dry heat. And back home, it's a wet cold. And the truth of it is, you get what you get and if you're smart, you make the best of it, no matter what.

Alex and I spent a lot of time outside while I was in the PHX. We went for ice cream (where I had a scoop of the best coffee flavor I have ever had) and sat under an awning. We had the best burgers for lunch and sat in the car, windows down, under a tree. We did a golf thing, wisely as the sun was setting. And yeah, we moved the young prince into his new on-campus apartment, right in the heat of the day.

The point is to not hide out indoors, because that's just not going to serve you in the long term. We would have missed out on some pretty stellar adventures if we hadn't been willing to be out in the world.

And now here I am, back home, on the verge of bitching about the weather. I suspect it's going to be a long winter, because it's always a long winter. But I have all the gear I need to make the best of it. Because life is short, and if I can eat ice cream in 117-degree heat, I can sure as hell drink cocoa when it's below zero.