Over the course of the next six weeks, I’m taking some
vacations. Yes, more than one. This will be the first time I’m allowed to cross
the borders of Minnesota, and I’m rather excited about it. I can’t say that I
get into planning like my mom, but
it’s definitely been on my mind.
For Thanksgiving, my mother and I will be intersecting the
state-line with Wisconsin, and moving east to St. Croix Falls, to feast with the cousins,
most of whom I haven’t seen in a decade or more. This will be an adventure for
certain, but only a precursor to the big trip over Christmas to the lovely city
of San Diego. Both of these trips, by design, are a mixture of simply getting
the fuck out of this place for a bit, and visiting my family to celebrate life,
love, and hopefully copious amounts of cuisine.
Wisconsin, however close for most of you, has been out of my
reach for years. The last time I crossed over was just before I went to prison,
and all I did was a drug deal. LaCrosse was always a favorite destination of
mine on the endless road trips that were my life before sobriety. The risk was great; they do not take kindly to
any amount of any drug over there, so the price was high for meth, and with the
deals I got in Rochester I was making plenty of money for the one-hour drive.
Sweaty and nervous I crossed the bridge on I-90 dozens of times without
incident, sometimes in stolen vehicles, sometimes not, but always with
felonious quantities of money and drugs.
This time my mind will be at ease, and my mom will be by my
side as we travel. She will not, however, be with me when I fly to California
for Christmas. I don’t believe I’ve been there since 1990, when I was in
attendance at the Oakland Coliseum for game four of the World Series between
the A’s and the Cincinnati Reds. At the time I was an Oakland fan because my
mother’s boyfriend was, and he had flown me out to see the game in hopes of
seeing them clinch the series. The A’s did not win a game at all that World Series
and I got to see the Reds win the whole thing right there in the flesh. Even
though it was the opposing team, it was pretty cool to see that live, something
I will never forget.
I’ve been to Cali about five times, but I was young, so I
have never been high or drunk there, and this time will be no different. It is
likely that I will attend my first West Coast A.A. meeting, which I am looking
forward to because of the autonomy of meetings, which is the reason they can
differ in format from place to place. Really, I’m just looking forward to
spending the holiday with my family, and enjoying a little break from the cold
weather if it ever does come along.
Both of these trips have already been approved by my parole
officer, pending some specifications like exact times and dates, but as soon as
I wrap it all up, I’ll be good to go. After that, I would like to start
planning something else. But where would I go? There are so many states I haven’t
explored. So many foods I need to try properly in their natural environment. If
I could afford such a thing, I would take a month away from work and explore
the root of Southern BBQ. I could eat and write my way across the bottom half
of the country, and come home with a pot belly that I earned proper and ideas
for my new restaurant. We can dream. We can all dream.
This next six weeks might unleash the travel bug within me,
handed down genetically by my mother. And maybe both of our blogs will have a
similar theme someday, and maybe not. The sky is the limit, so they say.
