As I have traveled overseas before, I was prepared for the explosive event the last time I visited London with my family. But, while others in the group had battles with it, I did not. I started to feel smug with the thought that it wasn’t going to happen to me. However, unfortunately it did, on the last day and at the worst possible time. It was a bank holiday in London, and everyone was out in full force. We decided to check out the Victoria and Albert Museum as did, it seemed, the rest of London. We wandered around looking at the artifacts and exhibits, thoroughly enjoying ourselves. After a delightful hour or so exploring the museum, we started to get hungry. We headed to the cafeteria located inside the museum, and it seemed like everyone else had the same idea, as it was very crowded. We waited in line for some time, and it took forever to find a table to enjoy our meal, but we succeeded. Just as I sat down and had taken one bite of food, I realized I needed a restroom now! Rushing through doors and corridors I finally located the restroom to find a line of woman waiting. Why is there always a line for women but never for men? After a few tense minutes, I finally land a stall, and thankfully the line was short. I foolishly believed I had survived the traveler’s curse.
But no, it was not done with me yet. It hits again, and this time it is a sharp, eye popping pain that clinches my gut, and once more I run for a restroom. Thankfully signs point the way, and I round the corner to see the line that goes all the way down a flight of stairs and around the corner. At least 25 women stand in line. Oh my gosh!! What to do, what to do? Nothing to do but stand in line and clinch those butt checks like I’ve never clinched before. I’m surprised the woman in front of me couldn’t hear the sounds my stomach was making, because there was a war going on in my gut. After 20 minutes, I’m wondering how much cash I have on me and if the women in front of me can be bribed for their spot in line. The moment finally comes when I get to stake a claim on a stall, and I am determined to stay until I know it’s all over. I was in the stall for 40 minutes before I got to evacuate. My family had started to worry, and considered sending out a search party. Luckily my episode was over and I could enjoy the rest of my day.
After a wonderful vacation, we boarded the plane to head home and was cruising along at 35,000 feet. I was relaxed, comfortable, and half asleep while a movie played, when that familiar cramp started deep in my bowels. Frowning, I wondered what that was all about. I had already had my bout of the traveler’s curse, but it soon stopped so I figured the airline food had simply caused some gas pains. A few minutes later it hit again, and again. It was at that point when the sensation hits me, and I frantically look for the restroom. To my horror the line is 5 people deep. I have now reached the point where if I move it may well be all over and there’s no way I can stand and wait my turn! A bead of sweat runs down my back as I turn the little air vent on full blast. A few minutes have passed and surely now the restroom will be available. Nope, it is still 5 people deep. I start to worry, what in the world am I going to do? Suddenly, I remember! There may be a restroom in the back of the plane.
I cautiously twist around, for any abrupt movement may trigger a release, and fortunately there is no line at all! I can hear the hallelujah chorus as I jerk the ear phones out of my ears and stiff legged shuffle as fast as I can to the little restroom at the back of the plane. I barely make it in time. Oh sweet mother, what relief! After my horrifying experience at the museum, I know I need to just wait this out and not leave too soon. All of a sudden I hear the intercom beep, and the stewardess announces we are beginning our descent, “please put your seat backs and tray tables in their upright positions”. At this announcement my eyes are bugged out because I know I’m not ready to return to my seat. There’s no seatbelt to hook. I start to wonder what would happen if I’m still in this spot when the plane lands? I imagine the revulsion of splashed contents on my bum, or the stewardess pounding on the door with demands that I return to my seat! After a few more stressful, stomach cramping minutes, I am finally able to slip out of the tiny door, and hopefully return to my seat unnoticed. Ten minutes later we touch down, and it’s all a distant memory.
So be prepared and be ready. The traveler’s curse rarely happens in the comfort of your hotel room. It has a wicked sense of humor, and delights in the unexpected, worse case scenario, knowing full well everyone wants the home court advantage for this game. But take comfort in the knowledge it happens to a very large percent of travelers, so you’ve got sympathizers.