Potty On, Wayne:
A Vignette
At rise: Curtain opens on Plitvicka Jezera
bus seats. Three British Star Wars fans type gentleman are seated in the very
back. They have taken great care to wear thick black socks that travel from the
top of their extreme hiking boots to the middle of their calves. In front of
them, an American couple is evidently listening to their conversation. The man
is stoic, but the woman is beside herself with silent mirth.
Brit One (in a highly stereotypical
accent): Remember, remember? It’s in Wayne’s World. Remember? Potty on, Wayne.
Brit Two (evidently imitating a key line
from the film): Brilliant! Brilliant!
Brit Three (guffawing): Heh. Heh heh.
Wayne’s World, Wayne’s World.
Brit One (encouraged by the shared
laughs): Right, right! Potty on, Wayne. Potty on, Garth.
Brit Two (seeking attention from
ringleader, Brit One): Yeah, and then he’s like, “I killed him with my own
shoe.” Remember? Potty on, Garth. I killed him with my own shoe.
American Man (to American Woman): Shut up,
shut up, shut up, shut up.
American Woman (laughing riotously): Potty
on, Wayne. Potty on, Garth. Foxy!
Brit Three (still guffawing): Heh. Heh
heh. Ten million dollars. (Brings
pinkie to lips)
American Man (to American Woman): Shut up,
shut up, shut up, shut up.
American Woman (struggling to breathe):
Potty on. It’s…not…even…all…Wayne’s…World.
Brit Two (confused by parts of Wayne’s
World that he doesn’t remember): Heh… uh, yeah! Heh heh. Brilliant! Brilliant!
Ten million dollars.
American Woman (to American Man, still
laughing): It’s…Gold…Member. They mean…Austin…Powers. (holds fingers above head
like fox, begins to sing foxy song and waggle her fox ears) Foxy.
American Man (to American Woman): Shut up,
shut up, shut up, shut up.
Brit One (emboldened): Potty on! Oh, look,
boys, we’re almost there!
American Man (severely): Don’t!
American Woman (with great glee):
Brilliant! Brilliant!
American Man (sadly): Just get off the
bus.
American Woman (under her breath): Foxy!
Also, here’s our laundry tree. We gots
bugs in ours drawers.
Today at Plitvice, Chris and I accidently took a very
arduous, highly satisfying hike up and into the mountain forests surrounding the
jezera (lakes in Croatian!). Here is an example of how Chris and I decide to do
the super cool things that we do.
Chris (leaving main trail for rugged dirt path to his
right): So, after we go home today, we’ll plan our route to Krka, ok?
Lauren (leaving main trail behind Chris for rugged dirt path
to her right): Let’s just stand on the road until a bus comes.
Chris (hiking steeply uphill on a rock littered trail): Ok,
but we need to make sure it goes to Zadar.
Lauren (hiking steeply uphill in her only pair of shoes,
sport flip flops): How far is Krka from Zadar? Wait! Freeze! A huge lizard!
*Half
hour interlude during which time Chris and Lauren closely examine a green
lizard whose head looks distinctly like that of a garter snake.
Chris (resuming exhilarating, challenging hike): Maybe in
Greece we should go to a nude beach.
Lauren (highly enjoying exhilarating, challenging hike): My
beluga white body has been banned from all nude beaches, USSR or otherwise.
And so it goes for another hour of hiking through amazing
forests, the likes of which can only occur at very specific altitudes and are
non-existent anywhere else in Croatia, until…
Chris (sweaty and grinning): When does this trail stop going
up?
Lauren (sweaty and grinning): Where does this trail go?
Chris (shaking his head): Where does anywhere go in this
place?
Lauren (pointing): Hey, look! A gigantic snail!
And thus the conversation about where this mysterious trail
into the middle of a dense forest might go started and abruptly stopped in less
than ten seconds. For the record, the hike was incredible and it did eventually
take us to the biggest lake in the park…at least a mile away from where we
thought it might go… Anyway, here’s my snail.
What I am trying to get at here, in my bizarrely scripted
way, is that travel is a happy accident. Since announcing what our next summer
had in store, I cannot tell you how many different ways we have been asked the
following question –
How do you do it?
My automatic mental response is, “How do we do what?” Chris
tells me it’s rude and a bit unnecessary, but, frankly, my question still
stands. As far as I can see, today we climbed up the side of a mountain and
caught some views of a lake that has been nestled comfortably away from the
rumble of the outside world for many thousands of years. We aren’t the first,
and thanks to the nature of life, we won’t be the last.
And we did it with our feet and a little bit of cash for the
ticket.
The world is this huge place full of countless ways for
everyone to feel right at home. When it boils down to people being people, we
are all of the same ruffled breed. Several times, when I expressed to curious
colleagues our excitement about Eastern Europe and delving into more untouched
landscapes here, I was looked upon with genuine concern, as if I had just
suggested that Chris and I would be spending our summer in a dinghy hoping to
snatch a glimpse of the Loch Ness Monster (that’s Summer 2013, obviously). We
were warned, clucked at, and occasionally scolded for our interest in leaving
the safety of home (home being America, land of Compton, New Orleans Mardi
Gras, Detroit, and approximately 1000 tv shows about the chopping up and
subsequent examination of dead bodies) for a land as dangerous and full of post-Soviet
Union rave warehouses as Eastern Europe. The same thing happened when we
plunked down in Guatemala and the Yucatan. This response always frightens me,
and not because I actually believe I’ll be kidnapped and sold into slavery.
What scares me is that we are teaching ourselves and our children that the
world is a terrifying place full of USSR slave traders with hilarious accents
and fur hats (to keep their heads warm). Bad things happen on this planet. Just
look at the runways during Fashion Week. We are an imperfect race with more
than our fair share of utter whackjobs. But at the end of the day, whether you’re
in Guatemala, Bosnia, or Pleasantville, USA, 98% of the population is having a
nice dinner at home with their beloved family, putting the children to bed, and
turning on the tv to watch reruns of XYZWXB Miami: Chopping Up Dead Bodies to
Solve Mysteries…not in the streets of Croatia robbing me. If we ever want to
feel one in the same, e pluribus unum, or even just mutually disturbed at
Fashion Week together, we have to accept that to live is a risk that we should
all be willing take. We have to reach out and know one another, before somebody
nukes us all.
With that, please allow Chris and I to show you what families look like when they try to use the timers on their cameras.
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