The geriatric road trip. And other stories.

I've had a preview of what my next 10 days is going to be like.

Dad: " Can you come home from work earlier? We need to have dinner at the airport before we get on the plane."

Me: "I can't come home earlier. I'm working. Why don't you all eat first before we go to the airport?"

Dad: *makes annoyed tsk-tsk sound* " But Mummy needs to have dinner and there's nothing at home. We need to leave the house at 6."

Me: *rolls eyes* "Mummy can eat at home. She's not the hungry one. You are. We can't leave till 6.30."

This goes on for a while until my Dad realises that there's no way he'll get his way because the sheer logistics of it cannot be pulled off.

My family loves the airport. Going to the airport, even just to pick up or drop off someone, warrants the amount of operational planning as though the army was going for a field exercise. Incessant phone calls about what time we're leaving, who's driving, what should we eat etc. etc. Grandma will pack a fleece or a scarf in her handbag as though it was winter because the air-conditioning at Changi is "freezing".

We're going to New Zealand on our annual family vacation to spend Chinese New Year for the next 10 days. The excitement boiling under the surface and of the impending trip to the airport is threatening to erupt and scald everyone.

It'll be me and 4 other geriatrics / semi-geriatrics. I'm the trip planner, driver, secretary. I'll need to read the map, drive the car and feed the hungry mammals in the car. And at specific times too, mind you. Breakfast at 9, lunch at 12, coffee at 3 and dinner by 7.

Otherwise, the flood gates of caffeine / hunger-deprivation will open.

Example:

Dad: "Ay! It's 3 o'clock! Mummy is hungry!"

Me: *looks at Mum* "Mummy are you hungry?" Mum shakes head.

Dad: *momentarily flabbergasted* "But I need my coffee! And cake! Mummy needs to have cake!"

My Dad has a great penchance for using my Mum as an excuse to make everyone stop and fulfil his gastronomic needs. Never mind that we will be driving through the great plains of New Zealand, surrounded by lush greenery and lots of sheep and cows, with no coffee shop in sight.

We might as well bring our own coffee powder and milk the cows directly along our drive as and when Dad needs his coffee fix.

New Zealand is famous for its caves, natural formations and beautiful scenery. So of course it would make sense to visit one of their more famous caves.

I hunt around trying to find one that is wheelchair-friendly or at least accessible to people with limited mobility.

Grandma hears about one of the caves that has a boat ride as part of the tour. We haven't decided to visit this particular one yet.

Grandma: (in Mandarin) "Huh? We have to take a boat? Don't want lah! Don't take boat!"

Never mind that the boat in the middle of this controversy is more like a mini sampan that goes at like 1 km/h on a little stream that flows through the cave. And she's worried that she'll have to bust out the sea-sickness patches.

In the meantime, I decide that I should go and try tandem sky-diving while my robust heart can still take the excitement.

Family's unanimous response: "Huh?? You want to jump out of a plane??"

And then all the chatter as I valiantly (though not very effectively) try to explain that I'm jumping while attached to a professional, we'll land with a parachute and that the risk of any unfortunate ending is really quite unlikely.

Try pacifying their over-active imaginations. Tough.

Oh well. It should be rather amusing if I keep a zen mindset.

If all else fails, I'll climb out of the car and into the farm with the sheep and cattle for company.