Around the world in 80 ways

While busy making other plans

Hey Grams,

Well shit, I suppose that’s what I deserve for expecting a ticker tape parade of praise while I announce plans to succumb to a midlife crisis. But you have to admit that it’s easier to live with than the truth. And the truth is that while I don’t want to become Tabby, I still have no clue what I’m doing with this exercise, or if I’ll even have the guts to step all the way off the cliff. As it stands, I’m comfortably unhappy. I hate my job but I do like eating and paying bills, and while I would like to get out and meet new people, boy-oh-boy is Netflix ever-so charming.

I guess, for me, the whole point of this trip is to make myself hit the eject button, and maybe also escape the madness that’s happening here, no matter how temporarily. I’ll be honest, I don’t know what I can do to make a difference. When I went to the first Women’s March, I got stuck between two rows of port-a-potties and had a panic attack. I don’t know, I’m just hoping that getting out and getting perspective will help.

I’m being selfish, I know, but frankly being a single person allows me to be and I’m going to take it while I can. But, after your last email, I’ve decided to alter my plans a bit. I saw Tabby last night and told her that I was still down to go with her to her first location, and maybe the second, but then I would leave her to do my own traveling. I was relieved when she didn’t seem bothered by it, which reminded me of how different we are; between us, she could happily go into a room full of strangers and come out with three new best friends.

Honestly, one of my fears was that she’d find a new boytoy at some point, and then I’d be the awkward third wheel dragging along behind them. I’ve been doing a little research for my solo travel. There are some women’s co-living houses scattered around Europe that look really cool. It sounds like these women stay there for a month or so and work on a project or just use it as a headquarters to explore locally.

I don’t know what I’d spend my time doing, maybe just getting to meet new people. But that might be enough to get me feeling better about being uncomfortable. Are you back from Vegas yet?

Love –

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Hey hun,

Listen, what’s a grandmother’s job if not to make her family occasionally uncomfortable? It’s like however that saying goes about pruning shrubs or whatever. I don’t know, gardening isn’t one of my strengths. Anyway, like I said before, this whole trip is really your business. But I think you’re right that this is a rare opportunity and I hope that you make the best of it. And hey! You should consider getting that dental work done while you’re abroad! I heard you can save some big bucks that way.

I actually just recently returned from Las Vegas and although I think I’ve showered about seventeen times, I can still smell the essence of glitter and those horrible fruity drinks. If I hadn’t gone with Denise, I don’t think I would have made it far onto the gambling floor without being completely disoriented by all the lights and sounds. But she was a natural, guiding me around the different tables and aisles of slot…computers? They seemed more like giant iPads than the old crank machines I’d seen before. Seeing people glued to the screens was honestly depressing.

Luckily, Denise showed me the ropes of the more exciting games and she even won us enough to enjoy a nice dinner out before we went to one of those circus shows. What a treat that was! I wasn’t that flexible even in my primest of days. Some of the positions they got themselves into haunted me as I stared at the ceiling that night.

Not that we got much sleep! You would be surprised at the number of us oldies out and about. We were walking the streets, hitting the buffets, and even shuffling around the early bird dance floors. Naturally, Denise sniffed out a bingo hall and we learned the hard way it’s not the best place to spend a morning hungover. I think she had ulterior motives for finding dates for that night, only to find that the room was full of other ladies looking to do the same thing.

However, despite her disappointments, we sat at a table with a really delightful group of young (to us) women. They were absolutely hilarious and all there to celebrate one of their divorces finally going through. I think they thought of us as adorable granny mascots and we ended up tagging along with them. I was happy to forgo a night at the tables for a ride around town on their party bus! Have you ever heard of such a thing? It’s kind of ridiculous, a short bus fitted out to be some kind of personal club.

But we had a hoot! There was a dancing pole and drinks and everything! It even came with “recently divorced” decorations. Apparently there’s a demand! Anyway, after a few stops, us girls got all giggly and conspiratorial and they told us about this little group that they’re starting up back home. You know what they’re doing? They’re stockpiling abortion pills. One of them, Linda, I think, has a sister out in Washington, and she’s been slipping her the meds. They only have a small supply now, but they’re planning on sending them out on demand to women living in states with abortion bans, or who can’t get their hands on them.

Their plan actually sounds pretty clever, although it might be hard to get the logistics off the ground. Basically, one of them is a retired nurse from Idaho and they have a few trusted plants in the industry. They'll have access to women and girls in need, then these people will write in to this group, in code, and they’ll get a nice little card back, with a bonus inside.

The aforementioned trusted plants will be able to guide patients through the process if they need it. They even have a name picked out! They’re going to go by the Pill Pals, you know, like pen pals, but with pills. My mind kept drifting back to them for the rest of the weekend, on the flight back, and nearly every day since. I’ve found myself drifting through the card aisle at the pharmacy, thinking about what I’d choose to send to someone, and what I’d write inside.

I’d gotten one of the girl’s emails during the frenzy of the party bus and so I sent her a message saying that I didn’t know how I could help, but that I wanted to somehow. What do you think? Is it totally silly of me to get involved in something like that? It’s just filled me with a sense of vigor that has me thinking about all the kinds of things I could hide contraband in. I’ve even been thinking about picking up my knitting projects again!

Who would’ve thunk that a silly little trip to Vegas would have resulted in this? I suppose sometimes it truly does happen while you’re busy making other plans.

Love,

Grams