How I spent my summer vacation, part II: Love the one you’re with.

After the devastation of My Boyfriend Dave Grohl postponing his concerts, Mr. Wonderful and I experienced the three stages of grief:

Stage I: Disbelief

Stage II: Strenuous physical exercise

Stage III: Physical pain and distress

Once stage I wore off, we got in the car and drove the hour to Winter Park and got into our condo and collapsed and tried not to think too much about how we planned our entire vacation around two concerts that got postponed.

The next morning, we explored a bit, and we ended up spending more than an hour driving up an old logging road at 5 mph to reach the site of an old hotel. It had been built at the turn of last century to serve the railroad line that went up along the continental divide. It was worth the drive and amazing. My dad is a train nut, so I was excited to see the abandoned trestles and hike along the old train line.

Important to note from that last paragraph: it was our first day in the mountains. We hiked along the continental divide – this was stage II of our grief. Stage II, really, really high up. This will be important later.

At the end of the day, we enjoyed pizza and a glass of wine at a lovely restaurant in town. I developed a bit of a headache.

By the time we picked up a few groceries after dinner, I could feel my pulse in my right eye socket. Good times. I could feel stage III of the grief cycle coming on.

We returned to the condo and I sprawled out on the floor. Then I crawled into the bathroom. Then I barfed my guts out. Hello, stage III!

Gentle reader, heed my warning: altitude sickness is real.

I ended up sleeping for a few hours on the floor of the bathroom. If that doesn’t say “My vacation ROCKS,” then I don’t know what does.

But the best part? Mr. Wonderful sat next to me on the floor of that bathroom the whole time. I think he worked on his laptop, read a book, and maybe ate some ice cream while I moaned and prayed for death. If I had any hair to speak of, he would have been holding it while I reexperienced dinner. He stroked my head and brought me a pillow and a blanket and made me consider not praying for death.

It’s a testament to Mr. Wonderful’s kindness that mid-wretch, as he patted my back, I actually thought, “My boyfriend is so fucking awesome!”

And then he said, “First Dave Grohl, now you!”

Touché.

Next: Cha Cha is terrified, then delighted.