I ruined the family vacation

Sat, 10 Nov 2012 00:30:00 +0000

There is a special place in hell for the man who loses the only set of keys to a borrowed car while traveling with his in-laws in Europe. It is a lonely place, for sure. As my wife rummaged through my suitcase for the fourth time, her backward glances growing ever more grotesque, I just stood there catatonic, knowing at my core we would never see those keys again.

I have always been a loser. Wallets, cellphones, gift certificates, the “good” scissors. They all swim in and out of my life like migrating cod. One of the unshakable images from my childhood is of my mother, silent but vengeful, hurling a giant Hefty bag down the stairs to our basement. It contained all the GI Joe parts and Lego pieces I had ever misplaced or let slide between couch cushions. A few days later, she asked why I hadn’t complained about her trashing my stuff. “I finally know where everything is,” I told her.

Salon.com > Copenhagen

I ruined the family vacation