We decided to make the most of Koh Samui. We rented a moped and Shane booked a hot rock massage for my birthday. While we were on our way to the spa, he got dangerously close to another moped and my pinkie toe got stuck in the other bike’s spoke. I didn’t realize my toe was broken until the masseuse wedged a boiling hot rock in between my fourth and fifth toe. Yikes! Shane attempted to make it up to me with an elaborate dinner at the swankiest restaurant on the island. There, he contracted the worst case of food poisoning I have ever witnessed in my life. Damn you, spicy shrimp! After he got it out of his system, we booked a scuba trip. Eleven out of fifteen people on the boat that day got sea sick (including both of us) and saw more of the side of the boat than exotic fish and coral.
My perfectly planned trip fell perfectly apart. Hotels were washed away, rooms were given to those who needed them more than we, a pinkie toe took a hit and more bodily fluids were spewed that anyone needs to know ... All those months of planning were literally washed away. And you know what? It made me realize that life cannot be planned. Things go awry and we need to know how to deal with them. I used to be rigid about details and staying on course, but now I’m a seat flyer (sometimes with pants, sometimes sans ... ).
My outline fell apart during that trip, too. Shane did not propose in Thailand; he was too busy praying to the porcelain god. But it happened on a very spontaneous trip to Cabo. I wasn’t expecting it at all, but there he was on one knee in the sand. It seems to me that the unplanned events in my life are much more treasured than those expected. I’ve also come to the realization that planning takes too much time—time that could be spent living. I overcame my annoying way of controlling my environment, so now my new motto is Viva la Winger! It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?
