She's Got a ROUND Trip Ticket to Ride...and She Don't Care!
While the popular inspirational saying "It's not about the destination, it's about the journey," may sometimes be true, sometimes it IS about the starting point.
At least when your journey is round trip.
This is a life lesson I learned recently at the Minnesota State Fair.
A trip on the Sky Ride seemed pretty innocuous, even after a couple of glasses of sickeningly sweet Minnesota Wine. Get on, sit down, enjoy the lights of the Midway, get off when the ride is over.
Even I couldn't get lost, right?
Only I didn't just need a sense of direction, but I also needed to be paying attention without unthinkingly responding to cues. In other words, I "knew" that I had purchased a round trip ticket, but I didn't stop to think how that meant that there would be more than one place to end the ride. So when the ride stopped, I jumped off, without thinking about how I wasn't at the same location where I had started.
That's when I learned another life lesson: When you make a mistake, it can be a good idea to assess your situation and your options without plunging ahead with a plan of action. When my awesome friends who were on the Sky Ride with me (in a different car) called me to say "Hey, girl, what are you doing...we got ROUND TRIP tickets" my response was, "S%#t! I'll run through the Fairgrounds to the start of the ride and meet you," even though I had no idea where that was or how long it would take me to find them.
So they very reasonably replied, "Why don't you just get back on the ride? There's no line..."
Well huh. That was an awfully sensible plan. So that's what I did. I didn't even have to give the attendants any dramatic explanation that I'd been rehearsing about my misfortune.
Ironically, this is the exact opposite problem my friend Jennifer and I encountered as foreign college students in France, when we mistakenly made a round trip from the Callais ferry station to the train station and back. We blithely, along with everyone else on the bus—all English speakers—rode to the train station without getting off. Unfortunately it was the last bus of the night. But that's, potentially, another story.
When I was a teen, I used to get frustrated at my mom for (seemingly) always jumping to really complicated plans to solve any of our family dilemmas. I wish I could think of an example now, but I remember that they frequently involved my dad having to drive a long way and spend a long time waiting in a car.
Come to think of it, maybe she just enjoyed sending my dad on a mission.
But this may be yet another example of where the Amy Apple hasn't fallen that far from the Colleen Tree. I may literally miss my starting point, but metaphorically, I keep coming back to it.
While I do generally appreciate being proactive and taking action, I do think there are times, outside of the Fair, where I could stop for a moment, take a deep breath, pay attention to what is happening around me, and try to find a simple solution to whatever problem I'm faced with.
After all, there's always time to panic, and do something silly, and blame my dad (no, being dead doesn't give him a pass) for it.
At least when your journey is round trip.
This is a life lesson I learned recently at the Minnesota State Fair.
A trip on the Sky Ride seemed pretty innocuous, even after a couple of glasses of sickeningly sweet Minnesota Wine. Get on, sit down, enjoy the lights of the Midway, get off when the ride is over.
Even I couldn't get lost, right?
Only I didn't just need a sense of direction, but I also needed to be paying attention without unthinkingly responding to cues. In other words, I "knew" that I had purchased a round trip ticket, but I didn't stop to think how that meant that there would be more than one place to end the ride. So when the ride stopped, I jumped off, without thinking about how I wasn't at the same location where I had started.
That's when I learned another life lesson: When you make a mistake, it can be a good idea to assess your situation and your options without plunging ahead with a plan of action. When my awesome friends who were on the Sky Ride with me (in a different car) called me to say "Hey, girl, what are you doing...we got ROUND TRIP tickets" my response was, "S%#t! I'll run through the Fairgrounds to the start of the ride and meet you," even though I had no idea where that was or how long it would take me to find them.
 |
| The view from the SkyRide...eh, it's all a bunch of lights... |
So they very reasonably replied, "Why don't you just get back on the ride? There's no line..."
Well huh. That was an awfully sensible plan. So that's what I did. I didn't even have to give the attendants any dramatic explanation that I'd been rehearsing about my misfortune.
Ironically, this is the exact opposite problem my friend Jennifer and I encountered as foreign college students in France, when we mistakenly made a round trip from the Callais ferry station to the train station and back. We blithely, along with everyone else on the bus—all English speakers—rode to the train station without getting off. Unfortunately it was the last bus of the night. But that's, potentially, another story.
When I was a teen, I used to get frustrated at my mom for (seemingly) always jumping to really complicated plans to solve any of our family dilemmas. I wish I could think of an example now, but I remember that they frequently involved my dad having to drive a long way and spend a long time waiting in a car.
Come to think of it, maybe she just enjoyed sending my dad on a mission.
But this may be yet another example of where the Amy Apple hasn't fallen that far from the Colleen Tree. I may literally miss my starting point, but metaphorically, I keep coming back to it.
While I do generally appreciate being proactive and taking action, I do think there are times, outside of the Fair, where I could stop for a moment, take a deep breath, pay attention to what is happening around me, and try to find a simple solution to whatever problem I'm faced with.
After all, there's always time to panic, and do something silly, and blame my dad (no, being dead doesn't give him a pass) for it.
Comments
Post a Comment