Early

The other day I woke up amazingly early (5:45 a.m.) to pick my bro up from the airport. Surprisingly, it was easier to wake up than I thought it would be. Probably because I knew that I would suffer the consequences if I didn't. But anyway, driving down the wide open 405 and the breezy, overcast streets of LA with the window cracked open just a bit reminded me of something. At first I didn't know what it was.

Thoughts of riding for hours in the backseat in the early morning and images of McDonald's breakfast to go hovered around my mind. When I got to the airport, I remembered what it all was. Vacation. The most memorable times of my life in which I rode in a car at 6 in the morning were during family vacations. For some reason, in my memories, those days were always overcast, there was always a rental car or airport involved, and I always sat in the backseat with a hash brown and Egg McMuffin in hand. Then, rest stops, gas stations, Barstow, Lake Elsinore, Arizona, Colorado, San Francisco, Hawaii, Florida.

We'd all pile into the car. Originally it would be the old Oldsmobile Cutlass Cruiser station wagon, where my brother and I would sit in the very back facing backwards. It was great fun. Luckily we weren't the type to get motion sickness from riding backwards. Often we'd fly and then rent a minivan when we got to our destination. Our parents probably would have preferred to save the money and rent a mid-sized car, but they knew how much the kids appreciated having the space to themselves during the long rides through the middle of nowhere. I tried to nap very sparingly despite my tiredness, preferring to stay awake to see all the sights on the side of the road. Often it was just open dirt and weed fields and barren mountains, with advertisements for gas stations and eateries out in the boonies scattered in between. Other times it was clouds and mist and tiny buildings below, sitting through early airplane rides. Sometimes a movie, sometimes peanuts, sometimes almonds, but _always_ ginger ale. Miles and miles of boring, open, nothingness, but tempered by the excited anticipation of what awaited.

Some of it's a jumble, but though these vacations lasted days, it's the early mornings that seem to stand out in my mind as a universal symbol or reminder of traveling and relaxation. Maybe that's why once I got out of bed the other day, it didn't seem too hard to get going. I tricked myself into thinking I was going to Walt Disney World or something. The last vacation I went on was to Las Vegas, but that wasn't really the same.

Maybe I should wake up early again one of these days and, if not drive, walk around and pretend that I'm going somewhere fun and exciting. Can I make every day feel like another vacation?

Of course, I'll need to find myself a McDonald's before going anywhere.