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How to Train Your Husband to Travel

by Crystal Wergin

Husbands and wives have different expectations when embarking on trips together. For instance, when my husband suggested last year that we take a road trip to go see Niagara Falls, I thought that meant we were actually going to see Niagara Falls.

Technically I guess you could argue, as my husband does to this day, that we did see the falls. Sure - from our hotel room. Twenty-three floors up. In the dark. In the rain. With pink light shining on them. Until the lights went off ten minutes after we arrived in our room.

The next morning we woke early, (we were on a "schedule") and it was still raining, impeding my bird's eye view of the falls. But, no worries, I would be standing right next to them shortly, taking pictures, and having ours taken together as everyone does who visits Niagra Falls.

As we pulled out of the hotel parking lot, I noticed my husband turned left, the opposite direction from the falls. Probably a one-way street, I reasoned. As he revved the car engine up the on-ramp to the freeway, a strange sensation crept over me. And although all of the traffic signs were in French, I somehow knew we weren't headed towards the falls.

"I thought we were going to go see the falls," I commented, curtly, as we sailed down the freeway heading the opposite direction of the falls.

My husband looked at me incredulously and replied, "We did see the falls."

I looked back incredulously and said, "No we didn't."

He looked back at me even more incredulously and countered, "Yes we did. We saw them from the room."

Needless to say, we were both incredulous.

And that, dear reader, describes the sum total of my trip to Niagara Falls. If I were a grade school student returning from summer vacation, I wouldn't have enough material to write a one-page theme.

"I thought we were going to go down to the falls," I emphasized to my husband two hundred miles later.

And therein lies the rub. The "I thought" part. When traveling with a man, you must get everything in writing, have an attorney look I over, and don't close on the deal until your travel agent reads the fine print.

"We can see them next time," my husband offered as we whizzed past a blur of what appeared to be the province Ontario. "We're on a tight schedule."

This is the other thing about guys - a vacation is not a vacation unless you keep moving.

My friend, Miriam, tells of the time she and her husband were on a road trip out west and she spotted a large jewelry store along the freeway and told her husband she would like to stop there.

"And there he went, " she said, (incredulously of course), "whizzing right on by! Can you believe that?"

Oh, yes, Miriam, I can.

And can you believe that my husband actually agreed to visit poet Robert Frost's Place in New Hampshire several days later during that same trip? I actually have pictures of him standing among the dozens of poems nailed to the trees along the Poetry Trail. He doesn't look happy.

Next time maybe he'll take me to see the falls, like he promised. I'll have my lawyer call his lawyer.