Even though I spend my days uncovering great kid-friendly trips, and researching them personally, I have to say that there are simply times when things don't go well. A family road trip to Houston in the late 1970s lives among a friend's family stories as their "WORST. TRIP. EVER." Here's the story, in her words:
Actually, the road trip itself was great. We traveled with friends, took two cars, putting the guys in one car and the gals in the other. Perfect. We stopped when we wanted to, ate when we wanted, and all met at the hotel. After checking in, we all went to our rooms to freshen up, change clothes and then met back up for an early dinner at a family-friendly restaurant.
My daughter, age 9 at the time, had complained a little bit about not feeling well while we were driving. Not uncommon, since she was sitting in the back seat, and occasionally experienced mild motion sickness. We assumed that was the case, and since we were through driving, she should be fine.
Wrong. From there...it all went downhill.
We drove about 15 minutes to the restaurant. She was her usual bubbly self, giggling and laughing with her BFF on the way to eat. As we were walking in to the restaurant, she threw up on the sidewalk. Ick. Of course, it was Houston in June, and over 100 degrees with about 90% humidity. I took her back to the car while the other 9 people in our party headed in to the restaurant. We cooled off with a damp washcloth and some air conditioning. She didn't seem to have a fever. After about 10 minutes, she announced she felt great, and was ready to eat.
Supper finished, we returned to the car only to find that our keys were gone. As in "can't find them". As in "they fell out of my pocket and were sitting in the floorboard of the locked car". If you've never called a locksmith at 5:30 p.m. on a weekday in Houston, and waited over an hour in 100 degree heat for him to squeeze his way through the commuter traffic, you don't know what miserable is.
After recovering the keys, we stopped by a drugstore
to get a little tummy medicine - just in case - and drove back to the hotel. (This was WAAAAAY before the minor emergency centers of today.) She began complaining again at bedtime, and a call to the hotel produced a doctor-on-call that we could consult with. To make a long story short, she ended up throwing up for about 24 hours, even though the doc could find nothing wrong, and in spite of the regular doses of medicine.
Miserable for her, miserable for me, and miserable for the poor folks who got stuck with cleaning up the sidewalk.
What's YOUR worst trip story with your kids?
Leave me a comment and tell me all about it, and how you coped!
