Sunday, June 13, 2004

Installment #4

Where's the farthest you've ever traveled in your life from where you grew up? What place(s) in the world would you most like to visit?

I grew up in Boston, so I think my trips to San Diego would be the farthest away from home. We went to Tijuana once too when I was a teenager.

Every time I’ve left the U.S. I’ve had a hard time getting back in. When we went to Canada when I was four, I developed chicken pox. My parents snuck me over the border under a blanket.

When we walked back over to California from Mexico, the border guard let my family through, and then stopped me. “Are you an American Citizen?” he asked.

“Y—y—yes,” I stammered. My father had spent the whole day telling us how our human rights as Americans meant nothing in Mexico. He regaled us with stories of when he was in the Navy and had to go rescue sailors out of Mexican prisons. And now this border guard was eyeing me like the last piece of prime rib. I was truly terrified.

Then he let me through.

[Editor's Note: Nothing like using scare tactics to keep kids in line, eh? If you want your kids to behave while on vacation, tell 'em they'll end up in JAIL if they don't. I'm sure that, to the parent or authority figure, it seems like an easy method of discipline, and I suppose it is, if pants-wetting terror is an acceptable side effect. Rule through fear. I'll have to remember that.]

I want to see the whole world once my kids are old enough. I want to go to London and see the RSC. I’d like to visit the town my family came from outside of Dublin. I’d like to visit the Portuguese island the other side of my family came from. Rome, Athens, Tokyo, Moscow...I want to see it all. I’d love to go to every Olympic games until I die.

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