I’ll be taking a break from my series on young evangelical identity to share a bit about my Christmas trip. This Christmas my whole immediate family, my two parents, my older brother, my older sister and her husband and niece, and myself, all got together up at the house we grew up in back in Cato, New York. Since the seven of us hardly get to be together, seeing as we all live in different areas, it is always special to all be in the same place.
I was the last of the family to arrive late Christmas eve. I volunteered to work Christmas Eve at Starbucks because I was under the impression that I would be earning time-and-a-half. I didn’t find out, of course, that I would not be until after the schedule was already posted. I was scheduled to work a ten hour shift and close the store at 7:00PM. I wasn’t able to hit the road until around 7:30PM, so I didn’t get home until a bit after 1:00AM Christmas morning.
Last to arrive, first to leave, Jeremiah (my sister’s husband) and I had made plans this Christmas to travel to New Hampshire and climb Mount Washington, the tallest mountain in the Northeastern United States. We were going to leave Christmas evening around 6:00PM travel about seven hours to a hotel in New Hampshire, crash for the night, and then head to the mountain early the next morning. In the morning we’d head to North Conway, rent the last of our equipment, and head up the mountain. A couple hours from the summit, we’d camp. The next day, weather permitting, we’d head for the summit. If all went well, we’d head back to New York after summiting and hiking back down.
Mount Washington is actually the sight where the fastest wind speed was ever recorded on earth’s surface back in 1934. The mountain is known for its wild wind speed and shifting weather patterns. Knowing these details, and others, our biggest concern for the trip was weather, which was, of course, completely out of our control. My brother-in-law, Jeremiah, spent some time last summer at AMS training in mountaineering. He has even been picked to be part of a team to summit Denali (Mt. McKinley). He and I decided to do this Mt. Washington trip in order to help him get ready for Denali next summer. We’d been planning the trip for months, gathering equipment, making arrangements…
The best laid plans of mice and men…
Everything for our trip was going perfectly well…until we left. We pulled out of the driveway at right around six. Minutes down Watkins road (the road I grew up on) our car’s dashboard lights went out. No big deal right? Just a short of some kind…We were driving my mom’s Subaru Outback, so we decided to give her a quick call to see if this was ever an issue that she’d had and whether or not she had any tricks to get them to come back on. Dashboard lights are kind of essential for driving at night, it’s important to see how much gas you have, and your speedometer. Well, we called and she had nothing for us, so we fiddled with some things and were able to figure out a way to get the lights to come back on if they were to go off again (which they did, naturally). Under normal circumstances, you’d think nothing of your dash lights having a short circuit, especially in a ten year old car, right? Well, hindsight is proved 20/20; the dash lights were an omen, an omen that we turn around immediately.
Would that we had heeded!
Our next incident was not for a good 45 minutes down the road. Heading east on New York’s Thruway, Jeremiah suddenly realized he forgot his orange fleece jacket, an item made essential due to the cold temperatures we were expecting to face. He asked me to call the house and maker sure he’d forgotten it. Phoning my father, it was confirmed. The jacket was hanging in the kitchen. Jeremiah would have to rent a new jacket or something comparable in North Conway.
All in all, the forgotten jacket was not a huge deal, but added to the dash lights, it was another omen of our ill luck, or absence of luck.
During the course of the conversation with my father, I began to feel a bit nauseous. I asked Jeremiah to stop at the next thruway rest stop. An hour into our travels, we stopped at a thruway stop. My head was spinning, I knew I was about to vomit, I only hoped that I would make it to the restroom in time. Once in a stall, I immediately and violently began vomiting. It felt like gallons. It felt like I vomited all of Christmas dinner. It felt like I vomited all dinners from previous Christmases. It felt like it would never stop. But, the flow did stop eventually and suddenly, and afterward I felt like a million bucks. I wasn’t sure what that was, but I knew I felt fine now, and so we pressed on. I told Jeremiah about getting sick, but I seemed fine and felt fine so we figured whatever it was had passed.
So we drove on into the night anticipating the glorious mountain…
For another hour…
Until I had to vomit again…
And then the diarrhea began…
Three hours from home, believing ourselves halfway to the hotel, we discussed the best course of action. I felt better after using the bathroom, we were both sure I’d feel fine in the morning. We’d be kicking ourselves if we turned back now and then I felt fine the next day, so we decided to continue our journey.
Crossing into Vermont we left the interstates behind and began traveling on smaller state routes. Vermont and New Hampshire aren’t the easiest states to get from place to place in. We wound through hills, forests, and miniature towns. This part of the trip seems dreamlike to me; my mental energy was all focused on not throwing up and not excreting diarrhea in my pants. At one point, while I was anxious to find a gas station, we past three that were closed for the night. Finally, we had to pull over and as the car was coming to a stop I hung my head out the moving door into the winter air and threw up in someone’s driveway. My body lurched, convulsed; all that came out was water, but I continued to vomit about every hour or so.
Not to belabor the tale much further, we finally rolled into our hotel at close to two in the morning, day after Christmas. I threw up for the last time immediately after I made it into the hotel bathroom. I’d spend the entire night waking up every 30-40 minutes for diarrhea though. After struggling through the night, Jeremiah and I decided to return to New York with our tails between our legs. Even if my diarrhea were to stop, I was dehydrated and exhausted from the night before. We were demoralized, but we had little choice. I grabbed my cell phone to call home…
Which is when the next series of unfortunate events began…
My cell phone, which I’ve had now for almost two years, has never had a problem holding a charge. I even brought a spare charger with me, but my phone picked now, picked today, picked this hellish voyage to stop charging.
And then we noticed the car’s tires were low…
And then we were cut off by crazy New Hampshire drivers and nearly killed…twice.
And then the check engine light came on…
And the diarrhea kept a’flowin’.
I am happy to say that we did finally make it home, each in one piece, more or less, and actually in decent time (on the way back). We enjoyed looking at the countryside; I’d like to visit Vermont and New Hampshire sometime when I am healthy.
What was I saying about the plans of mice and men? Oh yeah, they often go awry, as this story demonstrates. Sort of like my post-college plans. Pretty much everything that could’ve gone wrong with Jeremiah and I did go wrong. All my post-college plans have likewise dissolved.
I dropped out of graduate school. My girlfriend of about two years and I broke up a few weeks ago. The art program(s) I was working on have fallen through for several reasons. I’m definitely not at the place I planned on being. But, I suppose ounce you quit vomiting at least you can enjoy the journey. Back when I was reading For the Time Being by Annie Dillard I learned that the Talmud contains a prayer of thanksgiving even upon learning of bad news or evil. When seeing a deformed human being, for example, they would mutter something to the effect of, “Blessed art Thou, LORD our God, Master of the Universe, the only true judge.” I’m not sure if that is exact, but the principle is there: they try to make sense of life’s sorrows, and try to cultivate a sense of gratitude for any and everything that comes their way. They cultivate an attitude that God uses everything for his ultimate redemptive purpose. I think that is a virtue worth cultivating.
So, as disappointed as I was not to get to the summit of Mount Washington, “Blessed art Thou, LORD our God, Master of the Universe, the only true judge.” I got to spend some quality time with my brother-in-law, and I got to see my family (including my beautiful 11 month old niece) for longer than I expected to. I didn’t die.
And, though my post-collegiate plans have all faded, I’m learning a lot these days. I’m making some great friends. I’m reading some great material.
May you enjoy a quiet mind this New Year!
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