She must have sensed my “fight or flight” anxiety because she barked like crazy when an angry Santa in a horse-drawn carriage clopped by on the opposite side of the street. Through all the noise and dogs and chaos, Maya was great until we were standing on the cannon corner. Big crowds overwhelm me with a sense of foreboding that makes me want to scream and flee. Augustine was so crowded it felt like Times Square on New Year’s Eve, which, although I’ve never actually been in Times Square on December 31 st, is definitely the last place on earth where I would want to be. Unfortunately, the “No Pets Allowed” sign nixed my idea of quickly running in and grabbing a map anyway.Īfter a frantic phone call trying to figure out where we could hook up with Pat in the Paddy Wagon, Maya and I walked a few more blocks, braving throngs of tourists and dogs before we planted ourselves on a corner next to a Spanish-era black cannon and pile of cannon balls to wait for Pat to wend his way to us. I dutifully picked up her doo with a scented doggy bag and deposited it in a nearby trash container as we rushed to the Visitor Center, which was closing the minute we arrived. Although the sidewalks and grassy areas were as congested as the street, Maya sniffed the ground until she found her so-called “sweet” spot, and the second her rump hunched, passing tourists instantly steered clear to give Maya a few feet of privacy. I wanted to try to get to the Visitor Center before it closed.She needed to find some grass to do her “business,” and.Maya and I had to jump out of the van because: When we arrived after 5 pm, the roads were so choked with cars, it took Pat almost an hour to travel one mile. Augustine, Florida, could have been a reprise of my Savannah experience. His sleeping rule is “the colder the better.” I agree, although on the coldest nights, I padded myself with multiple pajama layers, a hat, and gloves before I climbed into bed, compared to Pat who rarely wears anything more than a T shirt and skivvies for fear he might overheat in freezing weather.įor me, a Savannah sleep hangover was nothing a good cup of van coffee couldn’t ameliorate in the morning. Pat thinks that the reason we slept so soundly is because the outside temperature ranged from a brisk 34 to 65 degrees. I don’t blame them for looking at us like they thought we must have been inhaling toxic Paddy Wagon fumes. We were so comfortable sleeping on our $150 tri-fold memory foam van mattress that we politely insisted on “moochcamping” in our family and friends’ driveways even when they invited us to sleep in their houses. Over a 10-day trip, we spent 6 nights in the van, and only moved indoors when we stayed 4 nights at our relatives’ house at our southernmost destination. (Out of all the debatable genetic traits my saliva supposedly revealed, this one is legit.)īut it’s true. I know it sounds crazy, especially for someone like me, who, according to the results of my DNA spit test, is genetically predisposed to be a light sleeper.
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