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| Honolulu House |
The consensus on the mystery trip I took this week through the senior hall was that everyone loves going to unknown destinations. Not me. I worried that I’d be dressed for up north weather and we’d end up in the southern part of the state. I worried I’d miss the return bus and I’d be stranded in a place without public transportation. I worried about lots of things including that I’d die in a fiery bus crash and all my house plants would die along with me because no one back home knew I was missing. Worse yet, I worried without someone to pick Levi up at the kennel he’d get sold off to a research lab where they’d use his long Schnauzer eye lashes to test neon-colored mascara. On other trips I’ve taken through the senior hall I sent texts to my nieces that I was going to so and so “and if you hear about a bus crash over there worry about me and Levi.” What was I supposed to text this time---going somewhere, monitor the all the accident reports in Michigan, Indiana and Illinois? It’s hard for me after 42 years of having Don in my life---who always knew where I was and when I was due home---to feel like no one has my back.
When I signed in the morning of the trip and got my name tag
they handed me a huge shopping bag. Clue one. Great. I hate shopping unless I’m
in a grocery store on Mondays. The bus pulled out and headed southeast. Clue
two. Great, I was dressed for going north or west, away from the expected rain
south and east of town. (Tip to the clueless, Jean. Learn to layer!) Right away
I got my state map out looking for more clues as road signs passed by the
windows while the others on the bus begged the program director to spill the beans. She
didn’t. I suspected the reason why the destinations on mystery trips are kept a
secret is because no one would sign up for the trips if we knew where we were going.
I was wrong. The last of the towns we went to had me cheering, “Oh, boy, I
always wanted to go there!”
But the first town we landed in was not worth writing about.
The second place we stopped at was fabulous---the Southern Exposure Herb Farm.
When we got off the bus we walked a luscious garden path that was
strewed with freshly tossed rose petals. It made we feel like a bride following
a flower girl and the path led to a charming, restored farm house outbuilding
where a fancy schmancy lunch was served. After lunch we had time to wander the
curved walkways to discover hidden treasures around every turn. In all there are four restored Victorian era buildings including the main house plus two party tents (one with a dance floor) and they
were all elegantly furnished with antiques, quilts and china place settings for the many parties they host. The old wedding floral designer in me wanted to stayed there until the snow flies.
Our last stop, lovely Marshall Michigan, is known for its 19th
and 20th century architecture. It’s a small town of 7,000 people but
there are 850 buildings and houses on the National Register of Historical
Places. There, we toured the Honolulu House, which was built in 1860 by a guy
who was a U.S. Consul to the Sandwich Islands (now Hawaii). And after drooling
over its ornate, hand-painted walls and ceilings a woman from Marshall’s historical society
jumped on our bus and gave us a guided tour of the whole town.
We ended up going to five places in three
towns and the shopping bag turned out to be for freebies (aka bribes)
we’d get from certain merchants
if we stopped in to look around. What a sly marketing trick, says the
lady who
won’t pee at a gas station unless I buy something to off-set the cost of
the
toilet paper, hand soap, water and paper towel I used. (It's only fair.) Bah humbug to
‘freebies’
that forced me to shop! But we did get some nice stuff and I only
spent
thirty-two dollars getting those bribes.
All and all I had a good time but I won’t be signing up for
another twelve hour long bus trip. That was a bit too tiring for me---I’ll stick to
the shorter, six to eight hour trips. I also won’t be signing
up for the winter bus trips because throwing a snow storm or two in front of a
bus load of old people doesn’t appeal to me. We could get delayed for hours in
a pileup on the expressway and the on-board bathroom would overflow as other stranded
travelers knocked on the bus door demanding to poop and pee inside. Like I said I’m a
worry-wart. If I’m going to get snowbound, I want it to be at home where the
hot chocolate flows like tap water and the dog’s face is safe from cosmetic products
testing. ©
