Life is good

On a hike earlier today ...

“This is just like in Lord of the Rings, guys. We are ... climbing ... Mount Dooooom!” My words come painfully slowly, in between gasps for air.

“Yes,” says Jihyun matter-of-factly, as she looks down and back at me from her position at the front of the line, “I am leading you to hell.”

This response sends me into a near apoplectic laughing fit, and I stop mid-stride on a dauntingly steep trail on Ajax Mountain. To take another step is to inflict serious pain on my already aching body, so I double over and let the convulsions finish on their own. Grinning and grimacing at the same time, I look over at Jenny. There is no doubt that our raucous peals of laughter are scaring away the peaceful Aspen fauna.

Eventually the shaking subsides and I am able to move. “Tally ho and sally forth!” I cry.

Jenny whips her head around and raises her eyebrows, “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

I shrug and start walking. Meanwhile, Jihyun is already fifteen paces ahead, apparently intent on taking us to hell as quickly as possible.

* * * *

I’m a big proponent of humor, especially when faced with tough times or frustrating situations, like when you are hiking up a steep-ass mountain with no end in sight ... only rocks and trees ... and more rocks and even more trees. Humor, when accompanied by laughter relieves stress, literally shakes it out of one’s body, and softens the mind, allowing it to consider possibilities that a more serious or somber mood may overlook or just outright reject. Many times on this trip, I’ve had to rely on humor, and not always pleasant specimens of it, to stay focussed on the amazing and fantastic reality of Jenny and my road trip across the United States, chockfull with good food and time spent with the most generous friends. I know ... one would think that these facts alone should render me impervious to the regular trials and tribulations of daily life. Sadly, this is not the case.

Around lunch time yesterday, Jenny and I were driving around the parking lot at Chautauqua National Park in Boulder, Colorado. It was one of those gorgeously perfect days--ocean blue sky, honey yellow sun, and not a hint of humidity--that send people into a delirious frenzy to find the nearest beach or ... national park. While cheerful passersby were lost in their enjoyment of the day, we were narrowly eyeing them like hawks, our bellies grumbling.

“Is that person leaving?” I would ask tersely, wishing that some emergency would send him or her rushing to a car directly in front of us, so that we could swoop in and take the relinquished spot. And each time my hopes were dashed by either a wave indicating “sorry, not leaving” or the non-acknowledgement of a content individual headed toward the beckoning green mountains, I would emit a low grunting sound, expressing my displeasure in cave-woman like style.

After what seemed like one hundred circles around the parking lot--I’m sure it wasn’t that many, but it certainly felt that way--the long-awaited exiting family of four stops before a parked car in front of us. I put on my turn signal and watch the Land Rover back out of its spot. I feel my mood lifting ... until a spiffy neon blue car comes from the other direction and literally slips into our rightful spot before my disbelieving eyes. To make matters worse, the travesty has been committed by a middle-aged couple with smart-looking sun glasses and (most definitely) unnatural highlights in their hair.

Now Jenny is up in arms, and I’m just shocked. It’s a turning point. And the next two seconds are critical. I can become the fuming--yet still intelligent--young woman, ready to engage in a civilized conversation to right the wrong committed, while inwardly desiring nothing else but to paddle their behinds and send them to a corner for flagrant misbehavior. Or ... I can think of something absolutely outrageous to say to myself and maybe, just maybe, give the anger an escape valve and myself some time to consider alternative courses of action.

I say to Jenny, “They are old and ugly, and most likely friendless and very bitter people.”

We’re both still upset, but at least we’re not cursing. And, as I think about the situation some more, I reason the following: It’s not like Jenny and I are in a hurry. We are on a once-in-a-lifetime type of road trip across the country!!! Plus, we are young and beautiful. And any confrontation with the old and ugly runs the risk of turning unpleasant for very apparent reasons. But who knows? Maybe the couple hadn’t even seen us. And in which case, they aren’t that old and ugly. But in any case, Jenny and I will do a good and selfless deed for the day by letting them keep their spot. Win-win-win situation.

About three more parking-lot circles later, another spot opens up, and we pull into it. About an hour later, we are full from lunch and the beautiful views afforded by a very brief hike ... and are on our way to Aspen.

Life is good.