Summer traveling

One of my family’s favorite TV shows is “The Amazing Race,” a game in which contestants – paired in teams – are required to circumnavigate the globe performing daredevil stunts and eating unpalatable food faster than everyone else. My husband believes it would be tons of fun to actually participate in the show – not for the million-dollar prize, but for the excitement and adventure – but definitely not paired up with me. I possess no skills that would be of any use whatsoever in “The Amazing Race.” I am terrible with directions, I hate feeling rushed, I am somewhat indecisive and my upper-body strength and hand-eye coordination suck. Team Acosta would probably be immediately eliminated when I drop my paddle during the white-water-rafting-down-the-Ganges leg or I misread a map and rather than finding the main highway heading toward Sydney, I send our jeep bumping along an aboriginal walkabout trail. I love to travel, but somehow my body isn’t suited for it. This month, my family cruised to the Caribbean, and naturally I got seasick, though I was OK so long as I didn’t eat. My stomach strengthened over time – as we arrived at ports and the boat stopped moving – but at sea was always a little dicey for me, and I found myself eating a lot of breadsticks. It was both comforting and embarrassing that eventually the attentive wait staff began including extra sticks in the bread basket. Rather than the usual three or four scattered among the dinner rolls, our table was given more than a dozen every night. I know what you’re thinking – why doesn’t she get those patches? Well, when we cruised to Alaska several years ago, I did, and as directed, I applied one behind my ear the night before we sailed. The next morning, I was literally throwing up on the streets of Seattle before we even boarded the boat. So now, I rely on a combination of ginger, homeopathics and mapping out the location of the ship’s restrooms the way an undercover CIA agent would scout out all available exits before he enters a room. Physical weaknesses aside, I am also not competitive enough to do well on “The Amazing Race.” For example, when playing Scrabble with the family, I opted to put down “baton” as my word, knowing that it scored fewer points than a smaller word like “mob.” I just liked “baton” better; it seemed more unusual. But the value of a word in Scrabble lies in its point total, not its ability to delight. Therefore, as my daughter noted, I was playing the game ineptly, and worse yet, willfully so. Traveling with me isn’t all bad. I pack and unpack with great efficiency, and I can carry stuff around in my backpack like a mule. I also play “Outburst” well. I don’t drink, therefore I can reliably serve as the designated driver, though I don’t drive particularly well, so there’s that to deal with, too. True, I could never win a competition based on quick decision making and physical stamina, but just wait. Someday, there will be a hit reality show called “The Amazing Race: Kinder, Gentler, Slower,” and Team Acosta will be aces.