Who am I you ask? I can’t honestly answer that anymore. For example, it wasn’t until I was all the way through airport security before I realized I’d walked on the floor with bare feet. Can you imagine? BARE FEET!
This mid-life crisis is pulling me forward, out of my rut, faster than I can think, because here I was with $5,000 cash in my purse ready to drive up to a remote cabin to meet a strange man to buy a 1955 Aljoa camper. Sounds like the beginning of a bad slasher movie doesn’t it?
Reason returned to me before I boarded the plane and I made arrangement to meet him at a storage facility on edge of town. Except then I realized he could kill me, stuff me in the camper and store me away for eternity.
I walked down the aisle of the plane in a stupor, wondering again who I was and what I was doing. I came across an entire row of empty seats and climbed over to the window. A little towheaded face popped up from the seat in front of me.
“Peek-A-Boo,” she shouted before disappearing.
I was pretty sure I’d figured out why this row was empty. The piercing scream that made my ear drums vibrate in pain, confirmed my conclusion.
The little girl emerged again. I grinned and waved at her. Most people are turned away by a screaming child, but not me. In complete contradiction to my OCD ways, I gravitate toward them like a fly to honey. I love kids and everything about them. From their chubby toes to their drooling mouths. I mean, who wouldn’t smile when a two-year-old looks you in the eye and asks with the seriousness of a nuclear scientist, “Do you have a penis or a vagina?”
But I digress.
We landed in Denver. I got off the plane, rented my car and headed out to meet up with Ed, the part-time vintage camper renovator/part-time murderer. I drove straight to the storage facility (also, as it turns out, not a very good place to be carrying $5,000 in cash.)
I huddled in the corner of the office wondering which way I was going to die when the camper came into view. As Ed emerged from his tinted windowed black pick up truck I noticed he was wearing flip-flops. I sighed with relief. Everyone knows killers don’t wear flip-flops.
He gave me a quick tour of my new camper. I said it was deal and rushed him through the paperwork.
“What’s the big hurry?” he asked.
“I have a flight back to Kansas City in a couple of hours.”
“Wow.” He looked at me with admiration. “You’re an adventurer.”
I grinned and stood up a little straighter and said “Yes. That’s exactly who I am now. I’m an Adventurer.”