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Chapter 1
Chapter One: The Itinerary That Looked Good in Candlelight
I planned this vacation like a heist. There were tabs within tabs. My flights nested into my trains like Russian dolls. I rehearsed airport walking routes on satellite view, zoomed in on kiosk buttons, measured layover snack times in almonds.
Kay, my cousin and alleged grown-up, kept saying, “We’re going to relax.” I kept saying, “We will relax with strategy.”
We were going to Port Selby to see the famous bioluminescent sand. The website said the beach glowed at “low gale” levels. I had an app that predicted wind. I had a backup beach, a backup for the backup beach, rain ponchos labeled “Plan C.” In the mirror, I looked like a sensible person wearing a travel fanny pack. Inside, I was a minor deity of logistics.
At the airport, the first domino fell. Our gate changed from A3 to D28, and there was a moving walkway turned off “to conserve excitement.” A baby chewed on my boarding pass, briefly, like a garnish. The airline agent smiled with a practiced tenderness and said, “There’s been a slight adjustment.”
Kay laughed the way she laughs at horror movies. “We’re still going to relax,” she said.
I clutched my itinerary like scripture as a voice overhead announced we were now bound for Montelagro, a country I once thought was a cheese.
