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I’m not going to the Yucatán in November, but I could. All it would take is two thousand dollars. Oh, and I’d have to find my way to Houston, which is where the plane leaves from. And someone to share a room with in Mexico. And the desire to have every minute of my seven days there planned for me in detail.
It’s probably a good price for a vacation-slash-educational experience. It includes three meals a day, after all, plus three excursions a day and three lectures a day. Does that sound like me? Not really. Maybe if they’d knock a little off the price and let me stay in the hotel room all day, I’d consider it.
You know, you wait all day for the mail to come, and then all you get is a couple of travel brochures from your college alma mater. That’s right, two in one day. Getting mail that seems to be intended for someone else is almost as bad as getting no mail at all. At least it had my name on it, so I can be pretty sure no one else got my real mail.
The other brochure is for a trip to Ancient Greece. How they’re going to manage the transportation I’m not sure. It’s pretty far from here to Greece, but I suspect it’s even farther to Ancient Greece. Anyway, it’s four thousand dollars, so there’s even less chance I’ll be on that cruise than the one to Mexico.
This is what I get for being a lifetime member of the alumni association: a glimpse into how the upper crust lives. I’m sure most of my fellow alumni can afford the inflated time travel rates.
It’s not tempting because of the money and the fact that I don’t connect with people easily. The only cruise I’ve ever been on was fun for me because I was on it with two dozen people I already knew. And even then I spent a lot of time alone (which is not something I’m complaining about). I admire and applaud people who can get two travel brochures in the mail and actually consider either or both of them. But I probably shouldn’t be on that mailing list. | 
