Taking Back From Disaster
Disaster was still hanging around even after the trip from Purgatory was over. It clung to me like a musty smell, and each relieved sigh seemed to be followed by another unsuspecting revelation.
My brakes had failed, I had visited four car places just to get a diagnosis, had spent an extra night in York, PA, to get them fixed, had learned more about snakes than I ever cared to know, had consumed more York Peppermint Patties than were good for any one human, had my car insurance abruptly cancelled then re-instated and had left my service club’s historic, one-of-a-kind banner at the golf resort where I attended a regional conference, 220 miles from home.
And now I was having trouble locating someone at the resort who could understand my broken Spanish. From reception, to hotel operator, to housekeeping, to head housekeeper, I was getting nowhere. I managed to leave my number and hoped for a callback.
In a panic I emailed some of my conference acquaintances to ask frantic questions. Did they remember seeing the banner? Had they noticed it when they cleared the conference room? Did one of the more helpful members from the local club chapter perhaps take it with them hoping I would call? All inquiries resulted in a dead end.
At 2 pm I retrieved a message on my voicemail from a cheery, chirping young woman by the name of Sherry who handled events for the golf resort. Had I called the housekeeper to ask about a missing banner? I dialed back, described the banner, carrying case and the telescoping pole used to display it.
“It’s right here at my desk,” she said in a smoothly reassuring tone. Whew! Sherry was my new BFF.
I asked her about sending it back to me, didn’t mention that I would have gladly driven the 440 miles to York and back if it was going to cost a small fortune—another hit on my dwindling funds—or the fact that if I didn’t return the banner I would never be able to show my face to the club members ever, ever, ever again.
And finally, the specter of disaster dissolved and departed as it turned out I could get it FedExed overnight for only $15.
The next day it was sitting in my apartment and the following Tuesday it was back on it’s telescoping pole in front of our luncheon room.
I hadn’t intended this story to stretch over five blog posts but tales such as this tend to expand in the telling as memories nudge the mind. My little trip to York, PA was nowhere near the only time my adventure was defined by Travel + Disaster.
The diaries of my journeys have been animated by: missed flights, cancelled flights, flights boarded at the last possible moment–out of breath, luggage that didn’t arrive when I did, contact lenses left behind in a seat-back pocket, being stopped by German security guards holding automatic weapons as they searched for the stiletto I forgot I carried in my purse, a traveling companion who had to go all the way back home to retrieve his passport after boarding.
There was also the time we prayed customs officials in Belize wouldn’t find the seven machetes my church group had made one woman carry in her oversized luggage on a missions trip; being pulled out of quicksand in a jungle in Central America; being hand grope-searched by a (thankfully, female) TSA agent; being lost in a fog in a four-seat plane running out of fuel and landing on a restricted Air Force military base; dealing with assorted ailments including a head-splitting toothache, and getting lost on unfamiliar roads in rented cars in unfortunate weather more times than I can count.
You tell yourself you’ll laugh about it later—and you do, eventually. Frustration, anxiety and pain all fade, replaced by a glow of certain confidence that despite Disaster’s best attempts to lay you low, you made it through and lived to tell the tale.
What remains instead are sweet moments, the little gifts your adventure surprised you with that convince you the reward was worth the struggle: the time a roadrunner darted in front of me on an Arizona road, looking for all the world like its cartoon twin; an elderly Native American chief making up a song of blessing in his native language because I bought some turquoise beads, dancing in the rain among wildflowers in a garden in Africa; digging for centuries old Mayan pottery on a road in Belize, a ride in the Goodyear Blimp over Teeterboro, New Jersey.
I don’t have to reach too deeply in my memory bank to relive a Spanish moss-filled boat ride through a Louisiana swamp at night; a café in Paris in late June with the sun shining brightly at 10:30 at night; clinging to the outside passenger bar in a crowded cable-car in San Francisco—and so much more.
Would I go through countless more minor disasters and irritating struggles to have more of those memories? Maybe not gladly, but yes, without hesitation I definitely would. Because the tough times are part of the journey and can’t be separated from the experience of the adventure. In many ways they are the adventure. Accepted, dealt with and overcome—they stretch you beyond yourself and reinforce a strength you didn’t know was always yours. You come away knowing you’ll be OK. And you can draw on that strength whenever you need it.
You will survive.
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How to Handle a Trip’s Disaster
One of the best ways to deal with disasters on any adventure is to prepare as much as possible beforehand. But it’s simply not possible to anticipate all the little ways a trip can go sideways. Make a checklist, by all means. But it also helps to have a system, a way to deal with the challenges and troubles that take you by surprise.
Here are my suggestions for what to do when disaster strikes.
- Breathe and get calm for clarity, then identify the actual problem. “My car’s brakes quit.”
- Vent, to yourself, before trying to come up with a solution. Yelling, cursing, even a few tears can help you muster the motivation to handle the situation.
- Refuse to blame yourself or anyone else, or to feel like a victim. Avoid the “coulda, woulda, shoulda.”
- If it’s a “high-level” disaster, meaning the threat of real danger, injury or bodily harm, summon help immediately.
- If the disaster is of the more routine variety and there’s no threat of serious harm, do a very quick brainstorm blitz on possible remedies, mentally or written down—try for at least 10, even if they seem outlandish.
- Begin working through the list to discover some workable first steps toward a solution.
- Let each step you try rule out possibilities and lead you to the next step. I tried to get my brakes to work with a few cans of brake fluid before looking for a mechanic.
- Ask for help. Joey at the second auto parts store turned out to be really devoted to helping me find a solution. He called around at garages until he found one that was still open. People are usually more willing to help than you might think.
- You may have to let the problem sit or it may take time to resolve the issue. Take extra good care of yourself in the meantime: Eat, sleep, rest.
- Let an encounter with disaster teach you how you might avoid similar problems in the future and be better prepared. Remember you’ll laugh about this one day. And pray—it couldn’t hurt.