As we grow older, our natural sense of adventure and spontaneity generally declines. Perhaps for a few, spontaneity is learned and grows slowly over time. But for adventure seekers like myself, I find that with age comes the happiness of adulthood, financial and time obligations, and a greater sense that to pick up go is harder than it used to be.
When I used to ski every weekend in high school, my bag was always sitting packed and ready. Saturday morning all I had to do was pick it up and I was on my way, perhaps wearing some slightly dirty fleece pants somewhere along the way.
Today, planning and preparing for skiing is a chore than takes time and energy days in advance. And I don’t even have kids! More often than not I’ll opt for sleeping in, drinking some really good coffee, and reading a book until 2pm on Saturday. I’ll do all of that with great joy, but weeks or months will pass and I realize I haven’t just picked up and gone somewhere, done something a little crazy, in a very long time (by my standards).
I’m only 29. I can only hope I’ve got a long healthy life ahead of me. There is a world to explore, hikes to be discovered, and beaches to drink on.
Travel puts life into perspective. It gets us outside of comfort zones unlike anything else. It challenges our cultural norms and makes us better global citizens and patriots.
As the decades pass, the life burdens increase, and there is no doubt to pick up and go becomes more difficult. Perhaps that is just all the more reason to make it happen, force the planning, save the money (or miles) and challenge ourselves and family to hop on a plane, climb a mountain, and in doing so, keep challenging ourselves.
Life is funny. An epic mix of ifs and thens. Seemingly random, a turn of events sometimes under our control, often not, lined up into a jumbled mass. A mess which we search, organize, and try to find meaning within.
Like finding our favorite pair of underwear in a pile of rumpled and tangled clothes.
Sometimes we have to tune out the noise. Put twitter aside. Turn off our overactive brains. Listen to the tea kettle boil and just experience life. Happiness…
and in getting the opportunity to be alive.
Remember the days when you could drink one of these and the mother of all hang overs would be cured. There are advantages to getting older and maybe wiser. The body’s response to alcohol the next day is definitely not one of them.
Only in #NYC can I get annoyed by every 15 min weekend commuter rail service. #waitingforthetrain #LIRR
After a long weekend of commemorating my nation’s declared independence by drinking local beer and tequila from Mexico, I decided a patriotic commute was in order.
Taking our country’s newest form of public transit I had a foreign-oil-free, surprisingly cool, and visually stunning ride. And it was one of those days I realized, wow, I live here.
One beautiful giant step forward…
In the midst of
One disturbing, giant step back.
I post up at the world’s best bar while the spike of IPA drains down my throat and my bladder yearns for relief. To the men’s room I go, prepared to saddle up to the trusty old trough, its steel remarkably clean thanks to years of chloride. Its piss filled stench never quite purged; a trickle of water always running down its back. It is a trusty trough, impossible to for a drunken penis to miss, a reminder of better days of rushed pisses with Dad between Griffey’s at-bats. A symbol of all that is good. As I swing open the bathroom door in my favorite watering hole, all that greets me is a soulless, sad, perfectly white, shinning new urinal, and all hope is lost.