The brutally honest truth: Family trips bruise the soul.
It doesn’t matter how much you love each other, long days of togetherness in tighter confines than usual — and with fewer bathrooms than usual — lead to conflict and crankiness, and consequently photographic challenges as you try to get at least one suitable-for-the-holiday-card snapshot in which grumpy family members do not look like they are smelling the worst fart ever cut.
But, I’m happy to report that we may finally have the swing of this family vacation thing. We not only survived but even mostly enjoyed a week-long trip to Seattle, land of hipsters, bad-hair days, plentiful coffee and towels that never dry.
And, added bonus since we parents are always looking for those teachable moments, it was quite the educational experience, too.
Lesson No. 1: If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is — especially if it’s your rented vacation home.
Here’s the thing about those glossy photos on the vacation-rental sites: You can’t tell when it’s a basement. And, you definitely can’t trust the owner to ‘fess up. So when we rolled up to the white house surrounded by a picket fence and couldn’t get in, we were flummoxed. Then we discovered we actually had to walk around the home, go through a back gate, down a flight of steps, around the corner and voila, there was our subterranean dwelling for the week. It was very reminiscent of Pike Place Market with lush, blue hydrangea puffs — and the occasional wafting scent of dead fish.
Also, fun fact: Ever since Harry Potter’s mean relatives converted a closet beneath the stairs and declared it a living space, rental-home owners think that counts as a legit third bedroom.
Lesson 2: Math is important.
OK, let’s work out a problem together: 5 people + 1 toilet =_____.
I’m not a numbers gal, but even I know the answer is trouble. The rental listing said two bathrooms, and technically both rooms had the requisite fixtures: One had a sink and toilet while the other had a sink, a shower and a … footstool wedged in the corner where a toilet should be. (This is a good opportunity to refer back to Lesson No. 1.) I am incredibly thankful that no one ever stumbled into the restroom in the middle of the night and mistook the footstool for a commode. That surely would’ve forfeited our refundable deposit.
Lesson 3: Global warming is real.
The Emerald City was scorching. The smack-in-the-middle-of-summer temps soared to the mid to high 70s — five days in a row. We were in heaven. Not so much the Seattleites.
“Ugh! The heat. I can’t take this weather anymore!” a supremely pale woman complained as we pulled on our jackets. I did turn around and laugh in her face, but showed remarkable restraint by not sharing the third-degree burn scars on my butt and hands from scooching onto a car seat and grabbing a steering wheel that had baked for hours in triple-digit heat.
Lesson 4: Don’t eat tortillas north of San Diego.
That is, unless you like the taste of disappointment.
Lesson 5: Always be a good citizen even when visiting another city.
We did our part to help the local economy by snapping up souvenirs like T-shirts and chocolates, as well as one speeding and one parking ticket. You’re welcome, city of Seattle!
Best of all, we even ended up with some smile-y vacation pictures — maybe even suitable for framing.
