I was six months old when my parents first took me on a plane. Before you judge them too harshly, you should know they didn’t have a choice. Matador was about to turn 2 when we took him on a plane for the first time, and you know what, we really didn’t have a choice either. Today’s 3F3 is from the time we went to a wedding. I remember…
The year is 2019. I’m 39 years old.
Ever since Matador was born, the question of when we would be able to take a vacation had been at the back of our minds. As it would happen, Charlene, my BFF in the whole wide world was getting married in sunny San Diego. So we thought: hey, let’s go to the wedding and have a family vacation at the same time.
It was a good plan. And it worked out well.
Sorry. Bet you thought there was gonna be some conflict there, huh?
Okay, so there were a few hiccups. For one, we foolishly got a regular hotel room instead of a suite with a separate room. That meant when Matador went down for the night, we did too. Plus, his 7:30 bedtime was only 5:30 in San Diego, so it was still light out when our day was over.
Second, I misjudged the airport wait time on the flight out of San Diego. We were the last ones on the plane and had to sit in the way back near the bathroom.
Besides that, we had a great time. We visited Balboa Park, Coronado Beach, and of course, the zoo. San Diego is a beautiful city, and much like when we visited Carmel, we fell in love with the idea of living by the ocean.
The wedding was on the last night, and we had a great time celebrating. It was another one of those moments I never imagined would happen. Charlene and I were both military brats, and more often than not, you lose touch with most of the friends you make in your teen years… they just scatter too easily.
But sometimes you get lucky, and you stay in touch, and a good reason to travel out of state just falls in your lap.
Now I just need a good reason to go back.