Last week, I sort of went to San Diego.
My husband traveled there by Jet Blue.
I traveled there by Smartphone.
My husband Skyped me from the pool. It was so romantic. He held me tight in his hand beneath a luminous sky, my face pressed against his screen.
“This is the hotel,” he said, capturing the images with his iPhone, as he turned around.
Then, the signal dropped.
He Skyped me again at five o’clock.
We went out for a drink in the hotel lounge. A bartender poured Jim a scotch, while I sat on the bar.
“I’d love a Bloody Mary.”
It tasted rather flat, so I drank in the scenery around me instead.
With drink and me in hand, Jim and I mingled in the crowd.
“Do you want to meet, Frank?” he asked.
“No! I’m in my warm-up suit.”
He didn’t hear me over the din of conversation in the room.
So, I met Frank.
“This is my wife, Lauren,” Jim said to a blurred face leaning into the phone.
“Nice to meet you.”
Several other people stopped by to say hello, pushing their faces into the packed perimeter around the iPhone.
Three minutes later, the connection dropped.
I turned on the TV. Nothing but Republican Primary news. Just Maine caucus talk with lots of ring-wing hooey.
Then, my laptop rang and Jim’s face appeared on the screen.
He sat at a table with five co-workers in evening clothes.
“This is my wife, Lauren,” he said to his cronies, elbow-deep in food.
A fifty-something man nodded with a mouthful of meat.
“If I had known we were going out,” I said. “I would have gotten dressed.”
“Can you tilt the phone down,” I asked. “So, I can read the menu?”
He did, but I only saw a blur of white.
A good thing, too, since I only had a turkey sandwich.
Two minutes later the connection dropped.
I went to bed.
The next morning Jim sent me an email from the tarmac.
It said, “Full flight!”and included a picture from the plane.
As west coast and east coast time collided …
Jim watched Kitchen Nightmares on the plane.
I watched Person of Interest on the couch.
I landed on my buttocks at 7.
Jim landed on the runway at 9.
Since I lost my vacation connection to San Diego, I found out Skype memories last longer than the tan.
Where did you go on your last Skype vacation?