The perils of vacation

by Katie on July 21, 2010

So, we’re on vacation.

But actually getting here was about the farthest thing from vacation you can imagine.

Originally, we were supposed to leave pretty early on Saturday.

Well, Friday evening rolled around and there was no way we were getting off the farm Saturday. After we each had crossed about 1000 things off our respective to-do lists, we still had 500 more creep up during the day.

Then Sunday rolled around. We were only supposed to haul a few loads of hay, get our things packed and clean up the wreckage that was the inside of Brandon’s truck.

But that, of course, ended up taking until nearly noon.

We finally hit the road sometime around 1pm to settle in for an 8 hour drive to Colorado.

And it actually ended up being a really nice drive. We weren’t even antsy to get out until a hour or so from our destination.

We pulled into the town of Durango around 9pm, relieved to finally be on vacation.

Then the trouble began…

About halfway between town and Brandon’s family’s cabin, we came down a hill, rounded a corner, and saw the lights of a police car flash behind us.

Yep. That was a nice welcome to town.

Turns out the speed limit at the bottom of that hill is 25 mph. Although Brandon was completely convinced his speedomoter registered at 32 when we saw the lights, the lovely public servant insisted we were clocked at 40. And he had no sympathy for vacationers.

Luckily, La Plata County must have insanely inexpensive ciation fees, because we were informed we would only owe the court $75.

Anyway, we were soon back on the road, and both sighed with relief when we reached the door of the cabin. I began unloading the bags while Brandon unlocked the place. We had all of our things sitting on the front porch, but Brandon was still fumbling with the locks.

So I waited…and waited…

Eventually, he decides his key just isn’t going to work. I thought he was joking. He was not.

After a quick phone call, we found there was a spare set of keys on the premises. Only the same key we were having trouble with didn’t work on that set either.

After climbing onto the back porch that’s ten feet in the air (with a boost provided by me) to check the back door, Brandon finally conceded.

So we headed into town to find a hotel room for the night, prepared to call a locksmith the next morning. Neither of which we were excited about.

close to 11pm, when we found it was going to be nearly impossible to find a room for less than $80, one of us (I won’t tell you who – that would be gloating) had the bright idea to try to find a 24 hour locksmith. Even with an additional fee for a middle-of-the-night run, we figured by the time we paid for a room and still had to pay the regular fee the next day, we would end up being better off just getting in and being done with it.

So we find Bob the Locksmith in the yellow pages from a phone book dangling from a pay phone outside a Conoco station.

We met Bob back at the cabin around 11:45. we were prepared for a professional to have us inside, in bed, in five to ten minutes.

Turns out this lock was one of the most difficult Bob had ever experienced. Seriously. I was holding the screen door, Brandon had the flashlight, and Bob spent a good thirty minutes grunting and groaning at his work.

Finally, sometime after midnight, the door broke free. I’m pretty sure Bob was just as relieved as we were, maybe even a little more.

Dude worked for that Benjamin.

After profusely thanking Bob, sleeping in, recharging and determining the rest of our vacation will be filled with rest and relaxation, we’re feeling good. And completely realize all the hard work leading up to our departure, and the subsequent travel worries were well worth it.

To quote Grandma Mary, “After all the hassle it takes to get up there, when you walk onto the back porch, it doesn’t matter, because you’re in heaven.”

Indeed, Grandma Mary. Indeed.


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