My December to Remember: Day Thirteen
News: Trump Transition team meets with International Longshoreman’s Assoc. and says America’s ports shouldn’t be automated.
Jeff Bezos reportedly will donate $1M to Trump’s Inauguration fund.
Nancy Pelosi rushed to hospital after injury during European vacation.
Drone crashes in New Jersey town after days of overhead sightings.
Trump says he’ll abolish Daylight Saving Time.
Chicago mayor Brandon Johnson calls recess on his own 2025 budget vote.
Some years back in 2015, I took my first and only trip to the Dominican Republic. Everyone I know had been raving about it, saying it was a perfect place to go for a few days out of the country. It was the first significant solo trip I ever took, something that would become a staple for me on my long stretch of coastline. But at that time, it was all new to me. As nervous as I was that something could happen, I packed up for my four-day excursion to Punta Cana, and into the era of unprecedentedness.
The goal was relaxation and writing. But what I got was isolation. Turns out, I was far too nervous to really enjoy my solitude. I sat on the beach day after day, typing away at a story that never got told, getting sun and eating what was offered for free at the all-inclusive resort. They had things like snorkeling and catamaran-ing, but I didn’t want to do any of that. In fact, I didn’t even speak to anyone for days besides the waitstaff, which if you know me and how much I like to talk, is certainly something outside my norm.
It was already a new thing for me to be traveling alone, but I was getting bored with it. There was only so much staring off into space that I could do. One of the last days I was there, I had gone into the restroom just outside the pool area, only to find that neither toilet was accessible, one in particular was, let’s just say, clogged to high heaven. Another woman came into the restroom while I was in there, and saw it as an opportunity to give a heads up to someone while breaking my streak of silence.
“Don’t head into that stall,” I told her, “Ain’t nothin’ pretty in there.” I kept going, saying how it was something I couldn’t believe, and how silly it was that no one was coming around to clean. She looked at me, and in broken English said, “I French, no talk English.”
Well I felt like a right tit. The one time I open my mouth and there was a communication problem. Even though my one opportunity fell short, I still felt as though I should try again at least one more time on the trip. Yeah, no. I headed out to the bar on the final night there and again didn’t speak to a soul. Oh well, I tried. I at least made the effort and had good intentions. But when you’re dealing with a surge of the unheard of, the rollout may include some small mishaps here and there. And it’s something I have to finally be okay with.
Right now, it’s an era of trying new things to see what sticks. In my head, it feels like the first time delving into a new experience should be a success no matter what. But that just isn’t the case. Not then, not now, not ever. I think the act of doing something outside your comfort zone is in fact its own milestone. However, setting the loftiest of expectations about the result can sometimes land you alone on your own island. So it’s best to just roll with things. Wing it till you fling it. There’s no harm in trying to trailblaze, especially when it lands you in a paradise you could have only imagined.
