For Thursday, February 16, 2006 Drummer Column, Gibbs, 780 words



The female mind


I’ll never understand the female mind. I don’t even try. I just marvel at it and shake my head. Thank goodness something in this repetitive, mundane life of ours remains unpredictable.
Out of a million possible examples, I’ll pick this one: Ten years ago I wanted to plan a romantic get-away for our tenth wedding anniversary. I said, “Honey, what do you want to do? We could drive up the coast to a bed-and-breakfast, maybe Mendocino, or go to the mountains, find a small town, rent a room. Or fly somewhere. What do you think?”
Instead of telling me what she thought, she gave me a piece of her mind. First she admonished me for being unromantic, then began to train me on the art of woman wooing. She explained it like this.
“Honey, when you want to do something romantic, don’t tell me about it. Surprise me. Be the man. Plan the trip yourself. Make the reservations. Plot the course, then spring it on me. Wave tickets and say, ‘Guess where we’re going?’ That’s romantic. I don’t want to sit and negotiate all the terms. Just sweep me off my feet.”
I took that advice to heart, ten years later. A month ago, I began planning a romantic get-away for our upcoming 20th anniversary. I decided we would take our first sea cruise. Oowee, baby. I kept it a big secret. Hush. Hush. I researched in private. First I drove to Costco and poured over their members’ vacation brochure, chock full of options and cruise lines. None of their bargains fit my timeframe. I surfed cruise-line websites, critique groups, and Consumer Reports. I read and read.
Finally, I settled on a Mexican six-day voyage on a Carnival Cruise out of San Diego. We’d visit Mazatlan, Puerto Vallarta, Cabo and come home. I took a virtual ship tour on the Internet. Looked at cabin, nightclub, and cabaret photos. Inspected decks. Hours I spent, days, a month.
Finally, the day came for me to book the journey. The house was empty. I logged onto Expedia, Travelocity, one of those websites, and selected our itinerary from flight to finish. Ultimately, I reached the page of no return where I had to enter a credit card number and click “Confirm.”
Just at that moment, Susan came home. “I’ll just be a minute,” she said as she breezed through the house. “Board meeting tonight. Gotta go.”
My feet turned cold. She was in the next room. Before I clicked and cost myself a couple thousand dollars, I said, “Eh. Hon. Got a minute?” I thought I ought to run it past her just in case, you know, whatever. I minimized the screen. I figured I would surprise her with a pop-up screen, one step removed from waving tickets.
“What do you want? I only have a minute.” She came into my den.
“You know what year this is? Right? Of course, you do. Well, guess what we’re going to do, baby. I’m taking you on a Mexican cruise! Surprise! Yipee!” I popped up the itinerary screen.
She looked at it long. She grimaced, pushed her lips up under her nose, and said, “Oh. Hmm. Really? Carnival? Our kids took that line. Didn’t like the food. I’m not so sure.” Then she ran out the door.
Geez, oh, man. Lucky I asked her opinion. She completely forgot to give me the How-unromantic-of-you-to-tell-me lecture.
Back to the drawing board for me. I phoned our kids. Friends of theirs liked Royal Caribbean. They liked the Cayman Islands. I researched two more days and settled on a 6-day cruise out of Florida. I got back on the same travel website, selected everything anew, and, before hitting the “Confirm” button, called singingly, “Susan, darling, come up here, please. I have something to show you.” This trip was an extra thousand, but I read up on all the ports of call, and it looked like a blast.
“Yes. What, Honey?” she asked, at my side.
“Surprise!” I said and popped up the new, improved itinerary screen. “Here is where we’re going.” I smiled, mouth open.
She looked at it long. Chewed her lip. “Florida, eh? We have to fly all the way to Florida? That’s an extra thousand dollars and twelve hours in the air. Can’t we depart out of California and put the airfare toward a cabin upgrade? Let me talk to my friend, Barry. He knows all about cruises. I’ll ask him to recommend something. Don’t make any decisions until you hear back from me.” She slid out the door like Morticia, down the hall, and back to frittering with whatever she was doing before I surprised her.