We almost ran over a turtle in the road. Rose gallantly escorted it to the riverside.
3 comments on Rose Saves A Turtle
Category: Travel
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I’ve always been a proponent of visiting new places, seeing new sights. This past week I was in Iceland for work. A year and a half ago I was in Iceland for vacation. I choose Iceland for vacation because I wanted to go somewhere that was cold and dark and would aid great sleep. I also wanted to see the Northern Lights. To my delightful surprise, I discovered that Iceland has the most comfortable beds of anywhere I’ve slept in the world. To my dismay, I never saw the Northern Lights.
When I learned that the team had chosen Iceland for the team meetup, I booked my ticket. There wasn’t the excitement I feel when traveling somewhere new. There was the excitement of the opportunity to spend several days with the team.
Once I landed, there was something comforting about being in a city I had been in before. Reykjavik is an easy city to know (not such an easy city to spell). I knew the streets, where the main shopping street was, where the cute pond with the ducks were. I knew where the post office was and where to buy stamps. I remembered the grocery store. I remembered the church and the amazing views you could see from the top of the tower. And with all that knowing, there was still much to discover. We ate at new restaurants. We visited new pubs. We stayed in a new neighborhood.
Some of my favorite moments were:
Drinking a polar beer (not bear!) and sharing stories with Krista 
Observing the beautiful graffiti on the sides of buildings 
Approaching the formidable Hallgrímskirkja and watching a group of theater students pretend to sword fight and behead each other in the snow 
Climbing the tower at Hallgrímskirkja and taking in the expansive views of Reykjavik 
Observing quirky sites around Reykjavik, like this sweater covered tree 
Viewing the swans and ducks on the pond by City Hall Enjoying a few hours at the Blue Lagoon before returning to the US, eating Skyr, watching giant snowflakes fall from the sky, and most of all, spending time with colleagues that I respect and admire and don’t get to see nearly often enough.
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I’m in the very lucky position of being in New Zealand with a group of my work colleagues. Before we arrived, one of them sent out a survey of potential activities we could do for fun. This included a list of various extreme sports: zip lining, river boarding, canyon swinging, bungee jumping, canyoning, street luging, and rally carts. When I visited the web pages for each of these activities, my first reaction was “Wow! That looks like so much fun!” And then I thought through the logistics. Jumping off a platform into an abyss, dangling from a single thread? Hmmm.
The first of the fun activities was upon us: bungee jumping. Not everyone wanted to participate in bungee jumping; I could have very easily chosen to be in the group that watched. The thought of bungee jumping scares me. The last time I had a chance to bungee jump, I didn’t. I was in Zambia, and I had the chance to jump over the Zambezi River, with Victoria Falls in the background. I chickened out. (Yes, that was the same place where this happened recently, so maybe it was a good thing I didn’t do it.) I’ve always wondered, though, “What would it have felt like, to plunge through the air?”
So now the opportunity presented itself again, and this time I took it. As we approached the booking office, I had a similar feeling as when I’m going to the dentist. Just don’t think about it. Just don’t think about what’s going to happen next. It’ll be fine.
We filled out the requisite forms. We were weighed, asked if we had any health problems, then given forms to sign to the effect of “I realize this is the most dangerous thing I’ve done in my life and release you from all responsibility when I get killed, maimed, or otherwise physically altered…” I signed and we went down to the platform.
The butterflies in my stomach increased with each step, culminating as I crossed a narrow bridge to reach the platform off of which we would jump. I watched two of my colleagues jump before me. It looked fun. They came back. No problem, right? I couldn’t look at the edge of the platform. The guys that worked there harnessed me into straps. I told them it didn’t feel tight enough. They said it was. One brought me to the edge of the platform and told me to look at the camera. I looked up at the camera, pointedly refusing to look down off the platform. I had a sudden fear he was going to push me off. I took a step back.
He said that he would count down, and then I would run and jump. I likened this to diving off of a diving board. Just without the water. He started the countdown. “Wait, wait, wait! I’m not quite ready.” “Better to just do it,” he said, “Don’t wait too long.” I took a few deep breaths. He began the count down again.
“Three!”
“Two!”
“One!”
I ran. I jumped. And then…
I sailed into the air. Falling, falling, falling down towards the earth, with majestic evergreens surrounding me. In my mind, I pictured myself doing a swan dive, gracefully meeting the earth (on the video I watched afterwards I realized it wasn’t as graceful as I imagined).
It wasn’t until the bungee tugged on me that I let out a scream of joy. What fun! What freedom! To be suspended in the air, twirling, with beautiful Queenstown below me. I laughed as they pulled me back up to the platform. “That was so much fun! Oh, my goodness, that was so much fun!”
“Aye, want to give it another go?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “No, thank you!” As fun as it was, once was enough.
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I woke up before my alarm went off; my reward was to watch a blinding sun rise over the mountains. This is a view I could never tire of.
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On the way to the Charlotte airport, we passed exit 42 for Troutman, NC. I asked, “Mom, remember the last time we were here?” and we both giggled hysterically. Mom explained the story to Dad, who had not been with us.
We had gone to pick up Grandmother (in SC) to bring her back to our house for one of the holidays. Lori must have been in high school, right? We stopped for lunch, and I knew we needed to stop for gas, but just plumb forgot about it. We were driving along and the car just stopped. There didn’t seem to be any other cars passing by, so we sent Lori to walk to the nearest exit to try to find someone. She got to an overpass and a young man on a scooter rode by, stopped, and hollered down at her, asking her why she was walking along the highway. She explained we had run out of gas and he told her to walk back to the car. He arrived a few minutes later with a can of gasoline.
The rest of the drive home, grandmother kept saying, “I’m so glad Lori was with us, because no one would have stopped for two old ladies like us, Sybil.” (This is the same grandmother who greeted me with, “Have you gained weight? Why aren’t you married yet?”)
From there after, I always filled up the gas tank as soon as it reached half a tank. No more walking along highways for me.
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Started with a salad dressed with truffle oil, continuing with duck shepard’s pie and scrambled eggs in puff pastry. Oh, and Bloody Marys.
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At the TKTS discount ticket booth:
“How do the seats for How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying look?”
“Two seats, back two rows, left. Eh.”
“What about On a Clear Day You Can See Forever?”
“Obstructed view. Wouldn’t take them.”
“Memphis?”
“Only one seat left.”
“Rock of Ages?”
“One seat.”We looked at each other. “We’ll take the two seats to How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying.” Rachel made a comment about being too close to the stage; I interpreted the dealer’s comment as being at the rear of the theatre. We looked at the tickets. She was right. Row B. When we took our seats, I thought, “Wow. We’re close. Really close. Six feet from the stage close.” Close enough that when the actors came on stage, we could see their mic wiring. And how much they sweated. And, once or twice, could make eye contact.
The story was campy. A throwback to 1960’s corporate culture. A story where a window washer follows the advice of a book (How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying) and climbs up the corporate ladder, getting both the girl and the corner office. A time when men hired secretaries on the basis on their looks, nepotism was the norm, and a woman’s ensemble included gloves and a matching pillbox hat.
It took me but just a moment to get past the fact that Harry Potter was the main character. Okay, not Harry Potter, but Daniel Radcliffe, best known as the actor who plays Harry Potter in the movie series. The songs had me seat dancing and singing along. And laughing. Where else but on Broadway do you get a full-blown number about the psychological benefits of the coffee break? Or reasons why your secretary is not a toy? Or dreams of waiting for your future husband, the successful businessman, and having the opportunity to keep his meal warm?
After the final curtain call and standing ovation, Daniel Radcliffe and John Larroquette appeared on stage, announcing cast members would be taking donations for the non-profit Broadway Cares after the show. “I’m auctioning this bow tie (he took his bow tie off), with the results going to Broadway Cares. Who would like to start the bidding?” The first bidder bid $50 and the bids quickly escalated into the hundreds. And then the thousands. Radcliffe threw in a back stage meeting with the himself and Larroquette. The price rose several hundreds of dollars. The final bid was $3,500. Radcliffe paused. “Would anyone match that bid, for the bow tie that I wore during the first act?” Silence. Then a woman’s voice from the fourth row clearly offered, “Thirty five hundred dollars.” Two bow ties, five minutes, seven thousand dollars for charity.
Rachel and I looked at each other. Best night ever at the theater.
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…with a slice of NY pizza and a beer. Awesome way to end an awesome day.
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After a full day of sightseeing, we’re enjoying afternoon tea at The Plaza. Delectable treats, warm tea, and delightful company.
LoriLoo 