Vacations...

After a recently dismissed vacation I now have a plane ticket to anywhere in Canada or the United States. Initially, I had a ticket to Florida to accompany my parents, but, it turns out my workmate booked time before me so I am stuck.

I know, I know, I would have been real keen on staying in a resort village, attending Disney World and other money grabbing intuitions that keep Florida going, and oh, the arguing, how I will miss the tears, the sun stroke, the competing to get other family members on your side. I will miss it all but right now I have a ticket to worry about.

The last time I was in Florida with my parents – 2003, I believe – we had a few major arguments and I remember my last words to them: “Hear me well; I will NEVER EVER go on another family vacation with you crazy fucks again”. I said it. It’s true. The whole point of vacation is to go and relax but when a redneck from Georgia becomes your best friend at the local resort bar while you share Sam Adams beers, you know you’re in trouble.

Yeah, I was pissed at first. In fact, I wanted to hunt down my work mate and have an all out confrontation but now I see the light. I now have control over my destiny and my precious two weeks will not be planned out by my overbearing father. I have the power.

When I phoned to cancel the ticket, which was under my name, they gave me two options:

A) Cancel the ticket and send a refund (the amount paid in taxes because it was an aero plan ticket) to my father.

B) Take back your life, regain control; cancel the ticket and leave it in your name. Note: if you choose this option your father may find out and start another argument. There is a fifty five dollar rebooking charge, period.

It was tough deciding what to do. The ticket was my Christmas and Birthday gift – although it was a bit grand – but I feel as if it’s still mine.

I’m thinking I’ll head back to Newfoundland. I mean, it’s what I really wanted to do in the first place when I found out we weren’t going to St. Pete’s or Miami and my father cheeped out and rented a condo in the fucking resort trap we call Orlando outskirts. I will go home and see ALL of my family. It will no longer be inclusive and I will get to revisit my past. My home. I haven’t seen my nephew, sister, brother, mother, aunts, uncles, grandparents in over three years. I think this is a no brainer.

I’m thinking April. I’m thinking I will rent a hot car, visit the fishing village I grew up in as an ousted gay male, and have a fun time with it. I hope to get into at least one bar fight, open a bottle of beer with my molars, have sex with a guy I always questioned, and not give two fucks about what other people think about me. The community will be tense and I relish in the chance to be there experiencing it.

After they chase me out with pitchforks I will proceed to a few more small towns where my relatives live, then, off to St. John’s for a weekend of partying in a city. I’m going to take my sister and Nephew and put them up in a hotel. The nights will be reserved for me…I don’t care what she has to say about it. I need to get laid at least once on this holiday.

So I’m excited. I’m glad everything fell through. I’m glad my co-worker booked around the same time I did – knowing full well I already had a vacation planned in Easter.