When Hell Froze Over

Are We There Yet?

Words that should be banned in all extended family vacation car rides from sea to shining sea- words parents must dread as they enter a car, even for the shortest of short distances… are we there yet?! But really, are we? March is like the never ending story.

and I don’t mean the Falcor kind of Never Ending Story.

Throughout the day I catch myself enchanted in daydreams that involve beaches, ice cold brews, and flip flops. As the flip flops, or thongs as my mother likes to call them, dance around my head, I can feel their gentle kick to my face as I step outside into the tundra of New York. When did I say I agreed to the winters here? It’s the cycle of New York living- I’m all about embracing being a New Yorker until the weather gets too cold or too hot.

My inspired can do attitude is swiftly turning me into a ninety year old curmudgeon. I can hear myself now:

“John, pull the cahhh around, it’s too cold out thehhh.”  

Which brings me to my little secret- a few months ago John and I booked a vacation to Playa del Carmen, Mexico! And I couldn’t be more relieved thankful excited! I decided to hold off on writing about it for a few reasons. Firstly, I don’t like to brag because I understand how painful it is to read about the joys of warmth when you are trapped in an arctic hell that has frozen over.

There is nothing more annoying than sitting huddled in your ice cold apartment that isn’t properly heated because your landlord is the devil in your own personal hell (breath) and then you log onto facebook to mindlessly scroll through the lives of others to forget the fact that you are freezing, then you find yourself stalking perusing the tropical paradise vacations of bliss that everyone but you seems to be on. Equally as annoying: when your friends in Florida remind you that you, like all of the intelligent New Yorkers that thought to escape, could be in Florida as well.

Another reason I didn’t want to write about my vaca is because I love trying to forget about vacations I book so when the time draws closer to my trip it’s like a giant surprise. I realize that sounds bizarre, but I am bizarre. I have developed this system where I don’t talk about it, I push it into the portion of my brain that I reserve for ninth grade algebra and zumba classes, and I try and leave it there. On days like today I bring it back into my mind for comfort.

So as I ask the question of the century to mean mean March: are we there yet? I’m fully aware of how annoying I could possibly sound to every reader. Which is why today I felt the need to declare that I will soon be in the sun kissed heaven that is Mexico, along with everyone else on your newsfeed!  Now I will scream from the mountain tops of Word Press, I am going to Mexico for a whole week and if I don’t return it’s because I’ve realized the rent it too damn high and the winters are the definition of evil. 

Interestingly enough… when the summer arrives in New York I will forget all about this post and rave about how fabulous it is to live here. That’s because in the summer I store all memories of winter in the crevice of my brain reserved for tax season, Latin, and the words to every Nickelodeon theme song. I wish you all the best as us folks in New York embrace another snowy week!

Until then, I will be warming up in hot yoga.

 

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