It's Normal To Want A Post-Vacay Stiff Drink, Right?

Well, it’s only one more sleep until I embark on the most batshit crazy week I’ve enjoyed in many years. Not that my previous vacations have broken rejuvenation ground or anything. One of the many problems with living thousands of miles (not at all within desirable walking distance) from one’s family is that “vacation time” is a bit of a misnomer. Rarely does one actually go on what could accurately be termed a vacation. It’s more like, hey, I am a fairly ordinary person and as such, I have a family that doesn’t suck too much and sometimes it is nice to hang out with them as though I were still an everyday member of said family, but unfortunately I only get two or three chances a year to do this.

So there’s often a lot going on during my trips home. A lot of driving, flying, more driving, more flying, drinking and then flying (don’t judge; you’ve got your coping mechanisms, I’ve got mine). And as insane as it all is, generally speaking I do enjoy it. Because one of the upsides of living thousands of miles from one’s family and not going home that often is that they actually get a chance to miss you, and when you come home a lot of attention is often foisted on you. Especially if you moved away to the “big city” and have somehow not been killed yet. That’s impressive to small-town folk.

But this week I am pushing myself to the very outer limits of what I can take, whirling dervish-wise. My schedule for next week breaks down something like this:

Friday Night: Arrive in San Francisco somewhere between 9 and 11:30 pm, depending on whether or not I can get a standby flight (please, God, please). Get picked up by a new friend who is driving all the way from Sacramento to come get me. She is a very cool chick that so far I have only corresponded with (somewhat obsessively) through email, phone, and instant messenger. At this point, I’m reasonably sure she’s not a serial killer but you never can tell. Just adds to the excitement.

Friday Night, Part Two: We meet my sister and a few hundred of her most intimate friends at some sort of club in downtown SF. Depending on how sleepy said new friend and I are, we might join in the dancing and merriment that is sure to be going on, or we might fall asleep over our gin and tonics. At some point, at least eight of us retire to my sister’s two-bedroom apartment in Berkeley and subsequently fall down go boom, so deeply slumbering we might actually be comatose.

Saturday: To celebrate my sister’s twenty-third birthday (yikes-we’re-getting-old!) and the birthdays of some of her fellow July-baby friends, there is some sort of all-day party going on. I’m not sure what form it will take but it will no doubt involve the beach, a ton of people I don’t know, and a lot of social lubricant (alcohol). Good times shall be had by all. Or else.

Sunday: Aforementioned new friend and I will head to Sacramento to hang out at her place and party with a mutual friend. ANF and I are also writing partners and we’re trying to get some of our articles published at present, so we’ll no doubt be working on that as well.

Monday Afternoon/Evening: At some point, my mom will swing by and pick me up from ANF’s place in Sacramento en route to Nevada. That’s where her family lives, and the two of us plan to make a brief visit because I hardly ever see these people and I’m not very sure at all that I’ll make it back for Christmas. This is kind of where the party stops. Temporarily; don’t get scared.

Tuesday Afternoon/Evening: We drive back to California, most likely picking up my sister in Berkeley on the way. Return to parent’s condo in Pleasanton. Pet the parrot. Fall asleep.

Wednesday: My sister and I are hanging out all day causing trouble, as is our wont. We hardly ever see each other and have all kinds of nefarious activities planned. We have to make up for lost time!

Thursday: Hanging out with parental units, who I also hardly ever see. Shall have a break in nefarious activities. My parents are law-abiding citizens. Wouldn’t be right to corrupt them.

Friday Morning: At some point, I’ll return to San Francisco or Berkeley. Hang out with my sister while we wait for her boyfriend to get off work. Her boyfriend also happens to be my business partner, and we’ve got tons of skirmishy details to work out regarding our mutual enterprise that have been on hold for awhile now. We plan to work more or less until I leave the following day.

Saturday: My flight leaves at three, so I’ll be hanging out with Business Partner in SF until it’s time to go.

Saturday afternoon/evening: I fly home and French-kiss my welcome mat.

Sunday: I wager I’ll be asleep most of the day.

That’s the simplistic, couldn’t-possibly-go-wrong plan! So let it be written, so let it be done! For awhile I was trying to figure out how to factor in a side trip to Las Vegas to see another good buddy who moved away from New York about half a year ago (jerk). I figured I’d be in Nevada already, what’s a little 400+ mile side trip? That’s when my mom stepped in, from whom I inherited basically nothing of use except my dazzling smile (thanks, Mom!) and who therefore has a much, much better (read: more realistic) sense of direction than I do. She explained to me, very kindly (my mother received at least 8 more helpings of kind than the average person, which most definitely includes me) that a side trip to Las Vegas was not a good plan unless I managed to get the time traveling machine in working order before tomorrow.

So I let that idea go.

I think my sanity is going to take a severe enough beating as it is.

I’m really looking forward to this whole thing, though. Really! Ha ha!