Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

I am not what you'd call a naturalist.  I believe that only creatures with 4 legs should crap in the woods.  Those of us endowed with the larger brain cavities should crap in civilized places with civilized smells.  (Not the ARCO station on the way out of Pensacola, by the by).  I feel that toilet paper is not a luxury, and that electricity (while it should be conserved and used wisely) is absolutely mandatory.  A staggering view of the night's stars is, of course, breathtaking, but is best viewed through a lovely skylight.  While in bed.  Under the covers.  With no bugs.  Or hungry bears.  Or work to set up.
Camping is the opposite of my dream vacation.  I want the beds turned down for me, not rolled up by me.  I want the cooking to be delicious and easy, not self-skinned fish and pans cleaned with phosphate-free detergent in an ice cold stream.
And camping, no matter what anybody says, is NOT pulling up in a giant RV next to another giant RV and living shoulder to shoulder in a parking lot. I don't do that, either.
That being said, it's time to plan the annual summer vacation.  Judging by the nearly-filled capacity of everywhere, it's actually past the time to plan the annual summer vacation.
M and I come at this from 2 different view points.  I should preface the descriptions of these points of view by saying I'm biased against his, have no idea who thinks his way, and am probably not doing it justice.

M's idea of "family" vacation:  8 weeks in Europe.  In his fantasy vacation, our kids are great connoisseurs of international cuisine, aficionados of fine art museums and restored homes of dead famous people, and fantastic troupers through stunning, narrow cobblestone streets dating back to the Middle Ages.  He is willing to compromise on his fantasy vacation of trekking through Ireland and Northern Europe, to spend 10 days revisiting locations more interesting to the kids, including Rome, Pisa, and Athens.
REALITY:  8 weeks of moaning and groaning, "ANOTHER church?"  "ANOTHER museum?"  "I can't walk anymore."  "This is boring,"  "Can we stop for food?"  "This food is gross."  Actually, that's just me.  The kids are WAY more annoying. 

My idea of "family" vacation:  2 weeks on a beach.  In my fantasy, the kids play together happily in the sand and surf.  They stay out of my hair during the day.  They are happy to eat pb&j for lunch and pizza for dinner.  I read and nap all day.
REALITY:  2 weeks of moaning and groaning:  "They won't leave me alone,"  "This is boring."  "This sandwich is boring."  "Kids eat this food."  "The ocean is not something you can stare at endlessly."  "I got sand up my pants."  And that's just M.  The kids are worse.

So there we are, at a standoff over how to spend our time.  So, we research.  If you are interested in flying to Europe right now, I hope you are of the 1%.  Or single.  Because not only is it $1300 plus hellacious taxes to fly over the Atlantic, it's like 16 hours of your life.  And at this juncture, not even I can imagine a world where 16 hours with a kid on a plane is pleasant.  For one thing, there are no batteries for hand held DVD players that last that long.  I'd probably get thrombosis in my leg and die.  But not before enduring 16 hours on a plane with my kids.  So, we're looking at 5 hours of travel to Atlanta, followed by 16 hours to get to Rome.  Followed by potentially sinking cruise ships in the Mediterranean.  To see places I've already seen.  Not to be snotty about it, but I already have pictures of myself with gladiators in front of the Colosseum.  Spending all that money to drag around reluctant kids to old stuff I've already seen is depressing.

I begin thinking about my childhood vacations.  We always took the beach vacation.  Because I come from a line of readers and nappers.  And we did leave our parents alone while we played in the surf.  But, we also took ROAD TRIPS!  We drove all over the American West.  Like in Indiana Jones, when the big red line would show you where they've been?  Our map looked like that.  We drove 16 hours just to ski.  (I would not drive my kids 1 hour to listen to the complain of the cold).  We took an epic road trip from Southern California, through Utah to Utah's Zion and Bryce parks, up to Wyoming through Yellowstone, Idaho, and ultimately to Grand Tetons park and then HOME.  When St. George, Utah seems close to home, you know you've gone a long freakin' way.

But, I'm thinking, my kids are all into geology and chemistry and what not.  Maybe they'd like Yellowstone.  It's unAmerican not to have been to Yellowstone, right?  It's a rite of passage to take an interminable road trip with your parents, no?  Everyone needs to make Tetons jokes with their siblings, right?   So, I suggest this plan to M.

Trees?  We're going to pay to look at trees? 
And geysers.  Old Faithful!
Sticks?  Trees?
And mud pots.  I loved the mud pots.
Dirt?  Sticks?  Trees?
We took a great side trip, white water rafting, and spent a night in a pre-made campsite, and slept in Teepees.
Look, if you want me to get excited about this trip instead of a day walking through ancient castles in Ireland, that's fine.  Give me a few minutes to get my head around the disappointment.  And don't EVER, and I mean EVER, try to sell me on a trip by telling me there will be teepees.
So, there will be trees.

I am not helped that the website's first reminder about visiting the park is to bring your bug spray.  M really hates mosquitoes.  Like way more than the average human.  Or the promise of vast forests.  (Trees)  Or the astounding geological history of the region.  (Dirt.)  It was a hard sell.

Especially once we started looking at hotels, or "cabins" in the park.  M is not a fan of the "cabin."  Or, might I point out, the "cafeteria." I find the best hotel I can.  Grand Tetons offers way more in the way of luxury hotels.  I found one there for us, no problem.  And by "us," I mean they have a spa.

I find ways to hot air balloon over the lakes, take horseback rides along back country trails (oh, goodie.  Looking up a horse's ass for 2 hours at an incredibly slow, hemorrhoid inducing pace.), raft and float (bone chilling water through mosquito country) and of course, hike (long walks punctuated by the whines of children).  I found a junior ranger program where the kids can answer questions at ranger stations throughout the park to earn a badge or souvenir.  I found guided walks to explain the ever changing geology of the region.  I found a hotel that has a waterfall-fed hot tub.  COME ON--can you beat that?

True, that compared to my childhood, we are cheating (we are flying to Salt Lake City and driving from there,) but we are taking the all-American vacation.  We will take the all-American vacation.  We will pay for it with all-American money, and we WILL have an all-American good time.  So help me, God.