Wednesday, August 6, 2008


I hate to travel, really I do. I know that there are those of you out there that have a sense of adventure running through your veins. You long for new things, new foods, and new people from strange and wonderful lands. I am married to someone just like you. I admire your ability to just go with the flow. Me, I long for continuity. I love waking up in the same bed each morning, in the same town, expecting the same things from my day that I experienced the day before. It's funny how the Lord puts people together. Richard and I balance each other out quite nicely. If we both had that need for adventure, our lives would be chaos. As we are it is perfect. He forces me to be adventurous, and find the pleasure in new things. I drag him along my "normal" life and he sees the value of stability. We are a perfect match. So needless to say, over the course of our Ugandan adventure, he was dragging me full speed through all sorts of new and um... exciting things. Would you believe it began at the car rental place? Yep, I wanted the SUV, he wanted the Impala. I wanted the large (safe) practical vehicle. He wanted the sporty (fun) car. As we drove away in the "safe" choice, I smugly thought to myself "That's right dear, we are doing this thing safe...all the way." My smug sense of contentment didn't last long. Before I knew it he was demanding we find something to do in London during our ten hour layover. There was no way he was spending ten hours in an airport. There was no way I was leaving it. It was maddening really, trying to convince him that ten hours was not enough time to toss about a city the size of London. Not to mention, we had never been there. What if we got lost? What if we couldn't make it back in time to catch our flight? That would most assuredly lead us to miss our court date....and then what??? Still he insisted, so like the good obedient wife that I am I consented to explore the possibility of leaving terminal four, for the bigger and better views of terminals two and three. Nope, he was not giving in. There are castles in London, and he was not going to stop until he saw one. (here is the part where a really sicko confession comes in, the kind you don't want anyone to know about, that is why I am posting it on the world wide know that whole confess your sins one to another thing) So I find myself on a plane to London, more than enough adventure for me for the day, thank you very much. I sit down in my seat next to my sweet beloved, buckle up, and think to myself. "I know it sucks that Richard just tore his ankle to shreds, and that he can barley walk. I feel bad for him really I do, but thank you Jesus, this means I am staying in the airport!" Sweet victory, it was a shame it had to come at the expense of a twisted ankle, but clearly it was God's will we stay at Heathrow, right?


Never underestimate the drive for adventure. It will cause a grown man, with an ankle the size of a full grown elephants, and the color of ripe purple grapes, to toss about a city the size of London for about 6 hours. I hated it at the time, but now, I am thankful for that stubborn husband of mine. I got to see London, spend way too much money on a subway sandwich, and he got to see a castle. Much more exciting than terminal two. I should know, we went there too.


Janet said...

LOL! We stayed in the airport! We weren't sure we'd be able to make it back either. The other couple went sight seeing and were there in plenty of time. Live and learn.....:-)

On the way back, we got a guest house. We had 11 hours, and all I wanted to do was SLEEEEEEP!