You Just Got Soloed
There are people who fly solo, ride solo, release a solo album or are Han Solo. Why do we have to be moving at a fast pace, musical or a hero? Why can’t the word be what it is? All by itself.
Most perceive solo as something people want to change. I get to do what I want, eat what I want, sleep when I want and avoid people when I want. It looks like being solo is what I want.
I’ve always wanted to travel solo. I thought a good stepping stone would be Banff National Park. It’s close to home, crawling with tourists, surrounded by mountains and if I chickened out from hiking, a look-out point would suffice.
On the trip I have never felt more empowered, relaxed and truly me – a wreck…
In Check One, Two, Whoopsies, I broke a piece of equipment. Today, nothing broke my spirit.
My trip started off with a bang or lack there of. It’s tricky for my alarm to sound when my phone dies, so I slept in an hour longer than intended. I had purchased a ticket for the gondola and with the hour and a half drive ahead of me, I was not going to make it (even with my driving).
I contacted Customer Service and they were more than accommodating. They assured me that no matter the time, they would get me to the top of the mountain. Bless you Australians who choose to work at one of the most popular Canadian destinations.
I arrived at the gondola looking calm, cool (my outfit was well thought out the night before) and collected even though the morning was a blur. Things were looking up as the fine gentleman who let me on, also laid the moves on.
Once at the top of the mountain, I inhaled the mountain air, walked the boardwalk and chatted with a lovely older couple. I ordered myself an iced coffee and rested on a bench after the strenuous 8 minute ride.
I suddenly let out a little squeal when I realized I had sat in a large puddle. The older couple said, “at least you can tell you sat in water and not something else.”
It was oddly comforting to have seniors make fun of me. It seems I can’t escape work no matter how hard I try.
The afternoon was mishap-free except for the slight panic when the hotel check-in clerk informed me they didn’t have a room reservation under my name. It was quickly resolved once she realized she hadn’t been reading my ID correctly. Apparently it doesn’t matter if I say it, spell it or wear it, I’m forever Rachel.
After a clothing malfunction that was easily fixed with elastic hair bands, I headed out for a night filled with random conversations, laughter and surprisingly, cocktails.
The next morning my alarm thankfully rung in time to make a coffee in my hotel room prior to going on a hike. However, after 4 failed attempts, I refused to drink slightly brown hot water and had to rely on the mountain air to wake me up.
After a hike there is only one thing better than an ice cold beer and that’s a massage.
So not long after the hike I headed for a massage, but with construction and unhelpful Google maps, I couldn’t find the spa. I must have looked lost with my face buried into my phone because a local approached me and asked if I required assistance.
He generously guided me to the correct building and I climbed to the second level. There were multiple signs and arrows instructing visitors to enter the spa around the corner.
I did just that and approached a door that read “Spa. Quiet please, treatment in session.” I slowly pushed the door opened and saw three massage tables in front of me – no reception area in sight. I feel I must state that there were no people laying on these massage tables either.
After far too long, I turned around and found the receptionist smirking at me from across the hall.
I giggled (quietly) and finally found where I needed to be.
I drove home with satisfaction and gratitude. It felt like an Eat, Pray, Love experience. However, I have never read the book or saw the movie, but I imagine this is what it was like.
Just call me wrecking solo – dammit there it is again.
