The road less traveled

 

By Angel Kane

 

 

There are a lot of things people might call me, but one word I will never be called is adventurous. And over the years, I’ve come to realize that being unadventurous is deeply seeded within my DNA.

 

Never has this been more obvious than the last week while vacationing with my parents and brother. As I type this article this morning, I’m sitting on a balcony overlooking the ocean. My entire family, including myself, my parents, my brother and his family, Brody and our kids are spending two weeks together in Greece.

 

In anticipation of our trip, my parents, brother and I did what any normal person would do: got shots, checked the various world weather radars and compiled the statistical safety data of the numerous planes we would be traveling on. Then we registered with the American Consulate and updated our Wills.

 

Ironically we each did these things separately, without consulting the other, which we thought was just hilarious, as we compared our research in detail before boarding our 12 hour flight.

 

There are two non-blood family members traveling with us on this trip –  Brody and Erica, my sister-in-law. They don’t find our antics amusing.

 

Therefore, after picking out all the possible terrorists on the plane, we let them sit closest to them – I mean if these terrorist-like looking people don’t scare you –  you have nothing to worry about. 

 

Although Greece isn’t officially a third world country, I’m a firm believer that any country where they don’t serve soft drinks WITH ICE, has got to be on some sort of United Nations hazardous travel list of some sort.  And don’t even get me started about the shower heads that are not mounted to the walls. I have permanently injured my neck from just one week of holding the shower handle with one hand while trying to shampoo with the other.

 

If I knew to whom to write a strongly worded letter about these issues, along with the lack of dryers, air conditioning or internet, I’d do it. But only once my  feet are firmly planted back on American soil, because I’m 110% positive that I would suffer some major atrocities if they locked me up in a foreign prison.

 

The island we are staying on is simply gorgeous with steep gravel roads carved out of the side of the mountains. I’ve taken to closing my eyes and muttering prayerful gibberish to God on most of our days of travel. Just ask my husband how enjoyable that has been for he and the kids.

 

So, it would be just my luck that as we were traveling on one of these steep gravel roads, with a donkey on one side and a looming cliff with the ocean on the other, I would hear a loud POP and then smell something burning.

 

“What is that? Did you hear that Brody? Something is wrong with the car, pull over, pull over!!!”

 

“Where exactly do you want me to pull over?” he answered back.

 

I could read my obituary now, “The Kane family plunged to their deaths over a cliff in Greece, the donkey survived.”

 

They tell me that my gibberish got louder and more frantic and although I remember none of this, and would deny it to any PETA official, at some point I demanded my husband run the donkey over!!!

 

Finally, we made it down the cliff to safety, only to find that we had lost power steering, a belt had snapped and and by now, the car was engulfed in smoke. My brother’s car had been in front of us and my parents’ behind.

 

We all got of our cars and my blood-family rushed over.

 

“Geez, I really thought you might go over the cliff,” cried out my brother. “Your car was smoking all the way down that hill.”

 

My parents were openly weeping.

 

Brody rolled his eyes, “the only reason that car was going over the cliff, is because I was this close to making a sharp turn into the sea to put us all out of our misery!”

 

My other non-blood relative, Erica, was rolling her eyes as well.

If I were an adventurous sort, I would have told both of them to…., but tomorrow we are kayaking around the island and I’m going to need their upper body strength to make it safely back to shore.

 

But once my feet are firmly back on U.S. soil, well, let’s just say the letter I plan to send to each of them (as well as the rental car agency and the Greek Road Commission) will be very, very firm indeed!

 

To read more of Angel and Becky’s columns go to www.wilsonlivingmagazine.com or www.wilsonpost.com.

 

 

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