The Perfect Vacation...

 

    Recently, I received a questionaire in my email.  You know the ones.  They usually contain questions like, "have you ever loved someone who made you cry?"  And "what's your favorite food" --simple, useful interrogatives designed to delve deeper into the lives of those with time-enough to answer.

 

    However, within this quasi-Proustian set of questions, one lept from the page and tickled my brain:  "What is your dream vacation?"

 

    I had to think about that one as I found myself scrambling for places I've been, and places I'd like to see.  I searched my collection of pictures and memories.  Venice popped to mind.  I've always had fun in Venice, and they really dig me at the Hotel San Marco, as I've been known to hang out the window of my room and strike up odd conversations with anyone foolish enough to pass beneath.  But, there was something wrong with that. I've done that, and I'd like to think my "dream vacation" would be something new, exciting and far more unique than the typical ugly, drunk American who's had too much Averna and Peroni.  Been there, done that, and I've got the stains on my shirt to prove it.

 

    Antarctica?  I thought.  I've never been there, and I do have this funny desire to set foot on all seven of this planet's continents.  Plus, penguins seem kind of cute.  There's plenty of sun and lots of really good fishing.  But, I live in Wisconsin.  I am familiar with the cold enough to know that I really don't like it, and from what I gather, it's pretty damn cold on the South Pole.  Global warming would be a huge boost to our planet's polar tourism industry, but it's such a long way off that making any sort of travel reservations, at this point, might seem kind of foolish. 

 

    Then, while watching an episode of House with my a head full of Benadryl ultra-Fog, drool-in-your-lap alergy medication, my dream vacation sprung happily into my mind, and I found myself growing giddy at the thought of it.  

 

    I want to be put into a medically-induced coma for two weeks.  Think about it?  No packing.  No jet-lag.  No perky, little travel agents who chatter like happy little muppets in an attempt to make a Czech oil-refinery an attractive must-see on any itinerary.  And, no mind-baffling exchange rates designed to benefit the Swiss and some guy in Singapore with too much time on his hands.  It is, in my opinion, the world's most-perfect destination. 

 

    After all, why do we take vacations?  We take them for rest, and what's more restful than non-stop sleeping for two weeks?  I don't even have to get up and fumble my way across a foreign landscape in order to use the bathroom.  This friggin' rocks!  Just plug me in, hook me up, knock me out, and forgive me for my lack of postcards. 

 

-Dan