An Hurricane
I was 20 and took what was to be the penultimate road trip with my dad. First we went to Mexico City. Then my dad wanted to explore the Yucatán peninsula. We didn’t make it very far because of a hurricane, so we had to turn back and got to Veracruz.
We were staying in a multi story, safe, concrete and stone hurricane proof hotel, safe in our room. There was a cartoon game show with a host, and they were giving trips to La Disneylandia.
Still young enough to get bored, I announced I was going to the lobby. Actually, I went out into the weather to experience a hurricane. Out on the street, making my way towards the water, watching the amazing weather, the rain and the debris and a steady, extremely heavy horizontal wind. I was looking out at the water, the wind lifted up a wave off the sea. The wave was airborne and flew above the water, it flew across a dock and into a building, and shattered and leveled it, and washed it away. I became much less sure of my immortality. It occurred to me that I maybe should go back to the hotel. Walking against the wind, the storm was very strong, and I found it impossible to fight the wind and continue walking. I felt like a mime. When I stopped the wind picked me up, only a few inches, but picked me up off the sidewalk and pinned me against the building.
At that point, the thought came to me that it would be best to go inside, so I fought the wind, got inside the hotel and hung out in the lobby.
A couple of days later, the hurricane passed, it was time to leave. My dad wanted to hug the coast all the way to Miami. If only I could remember the name of the town, our next stop was a colonial town with beautiful buildings and beautiful streets.
On these trips it seemed my dad really enjoyed just driving and racking up miles. I wanted to stop and see things. The next night we stayed in Monterey. And while we were there, a big earthquake struck. It wasn’t too bad where we were, but it was epicentered at that beautiful colonial town. Half of that beautiful town was leveled.
My parents suddenly just wanted out of Mexico. Our next stop was Port Arthur, Texas, one of the ugliest towns I have ever seen in my life. Then, on to New Orleans. My dad decided he did not want to go to Florida. For a possible reason see this story
In the morning my dad said, Let’s go, and I said, But we’re in New Orleans. He said, Yeah, but let’s get going, and I said, But we’re in New Orleans. If you really need to go, go on without me, they said, Don’t be silly, and I said, Oh I’ll be fine, I’ll find my way home. I left out the door. What an insufferable brat.
The next morning they were still waiting for their brat of a son
A few days later we were in Chicago. Just for the night. I wanted to see Chicago. I was going to pull the same stunt, but I didn’t.
Then really without making many stops, we drove through Winnipeg, Banff, Calgary, Victoria, Portland, finally a couple of days in San Francisco, then home.
I promised myself I would never go on another road trip with my dad. But I did, about 10 years later.