A Story to Tell the Grandchildren

A middle aged man takes the treadmill next to mine, setting the speed to four miles per hour. Within moments a crowd of other middle aged men and women forms around him. They come in order to listen to a dissertation on his recent vacation.

He had gone on a cruise, only for a large fire to break out on the boat, bringing in a premature end to his vacation. The captain of the ship sped to the nearest harbor as quickly as he could, taking every precaution possible. He had asked that all passengers wear life jackets and remain sitting so that no one might get hurt. The story-teller refused to listen to such ridiculous instructions, and instead opted to lie down, using his life jacket as a pillow. Amazed that anyone might have the kind of wit and ingenuity to do such a thing, the audience gives an applause for his valiant decision making.

He continues his story. His ship arrived at the port of a small Caribbean nation on Sunday, and the story-teller was told he wouldn't be able to take a plane home until Tuesday. After an excruciating (all expense paid) wait, he got on his plane at 6pm on Tuesday, only to be told he'd be waiting a bit longer for a late passenger to arrive! Once his plane landed back in the U.S.A. he needed to take the bus in order to pick up his car. With all of that dealt with, he finally got back to his house around midnight, then cried himself to sleep after all he had gone through.

The crowd is amazed by his story. Not just did he perform so many courageous and difficult acts, he narrates them with such finesse and beauty! "A story to tell the grandchildren," someone says. "You must be scarred by how much you've gone through," an elderly woman wearing a sports bra says. "Well, I must say, it was truly a terrible experience," the story-teller replies with a grin.

"I think I'm going to Ocean City for my next vacation. I've heard so many wonderful things about it," he responds to one of his listeners questions. "I don't know about that. I've had some bad times there," someone retorts. "You know, I can understand that," he says, "but when you've gone through having your cruise ship catch fire, as I have, Ocean City looks pretty nice."

Throughout the rest of the night various acquaintances walk by his treadmill, saying they're glad he's alright, they were worried, they have no idea what they would do if he were hurt, etc.

After I get off of my treadmill I stand, finishing a bottle of water, and listen to another woman ask him about his experience. "How long have you had to recover?" He smiles politely, then blushes, "The cruise was back in September; so--eight months.