I’m not a planner. My life thus far has consisted of a series of fortunate events, happenstances and chance meetings. I never go with an itinerary; I just go, seek and occasionally conquer. One-way ticket to Barcelona, no problem. Hitchhiking through France, now you’re talking …
My notorious nature for showing up at friends’ doorsteps in random towns across random states at random times, unannounced, has always proved positive. (no, no, they like that … really.) Life is an adventure, see. I’m just keeping it adventurous. (and possibly giving my mother a heart attack.)
I thought I had met my match with Jeremy, i.e. “let’s get married next month,” or “let’s quit our jobs, we’ll find more,” following a “wanna move to Alaska, no scratch that, we’re moving to Germany in 2 weeks.” Ok!
Together we laugh in the face of stability. Ha!
Soon after we married though, things started to change. Jeremy started planning … with Rick Steves.
He got his first dose of Rick from his dealer, Joe Kerbleski, while in Boston. Kerbleski spoke highly of Rick, giving Jeremy just a little bit – knowing he would eventually have to come back for more.
My dear husband took the bait. It wasn’t long before he was showing signs of a Rickaphile, quoting Rick, staying up late to read from the book of Rick, looking at Rick on the Internet.
I let it go at first.
It progressively got worse and it wasn’t until a trip to Rome around Thanksgiving that other people started to notice.
It was supposed to be just the 4 of us, Jeremy, myself and the BFF’s, Sarah and Jess, but Jeremy insisted Rick go along. He was even so bold as to smuggle Rick in his suitcase, pulling him out on the plane, flaunting him right in front of everyone.
My notorious nature for showing up at friends’ doorsteps in random towns across random states at random times, unannounced, has always proved positive. (no, no, they like that … really.) Life is an adventure, see. I’m just keeping it adventurous. (and possibly giving my mother a heart attack.)
I thought I had met my match with Jeremy, i.e. “let’s get married next month,” or “let’s quit our jobs, we’ll find more,” following a “wanna move to Alaska, no scratch that, we’re moving to Germany in 2 weeks.” Ok!
Together we laugh in the face of stability. Ha!
Soon after we married though, things started to change. Jeremy started planning … with Rick Steves.
He got his first dose of Rick from his dealer, Joe Kerbleski, while in Boston. Kerbleski spoke highly of Rick, giving Jeremy just a little bit – knowing he would eventually have to come back for more.
My dear husband took the bait. It wasn’t long before he was showing signs of a Rickaphile, quoting Rick, staying up late to read from the book of Rick, looking at Rick on the Internet.
I let it go at first.
It progressively got worse and it wasn’t until a trip to Rome around Thanksgiving that other people started to notice.
It was supposed to be just the 4 of us, Jeremy, myself and the BFF’s, Sarah and Jess, but Jeremy insisted Rick go along. He was even so bold as to smuggle Rick in his suitcase, pulling him out on the plane, flaunting him right in front of everyone.
The 3 days we spent in Italy we did only what Rick said. If someone wanted to go inside a café, we had to check in the Ricktionary first. If a restaurant, museum, church, club or bingo hall was mentioned – Jeremy checked with Rick, planned in out and downright refused to go against the book of Rick. (Frankly, he was being a rickhead.)
When the BFF’s and I confronted Jeremy, he denied he had a problem.
Typical.
Fast forward to Christmas in Paris. Once again I find myself sharing a bed with Jeremy and Rick. I look over to see Jeremy, gleamy-eyed, cheeks blushing as he giggles to the wit of Rick. He didn’t think I noticed the e-rick-tion* popping up from beneath the covers … but I saw it. And once again our trip was dictated by this menacing man and his fancy book. Whatever Rick said - went.
Now, I will admit, beyond the tool exterior, Rick Steves is an intelligent, witty writer and extremely knowledgeable on Europe and its history. His ideas and suggestions are pretty much always spot on. I’m not saying I don’t like the guy, and at times I may even sneak a peek myself to learn a bit about the area we’re traveling… it’s just, it’s just …
I refuse to be coerced into the cult of Rick. I won’t deny a glance for mere suggestions, but next time – let’s put the book down and create our own adventures. One rickless day at a time.
* and the winner of the best “rick word” ever goes to Hennessy Miller for this little gem. Yay.
I had the biggest smile on my face while reading this. Priceless.
ReplyDeleteI can appreciate this post more fully now that i've witnessed the rickamarole. We did manage to incorporate some rick-free spots in our berlin adventure, like that breakfast place that buddah found :)
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