Best Laid Plans

Q: What do we have in common with Barry Manilow?

A: We both had to postpone our farewell tour due to illness. Fortunately, ours was not as serious … but it still sucked.

We had carefully mapped out each day of our “farewell tour,” visiting family and friends as we made our way south.

It was all going according to plan—until December 11, when Vivian developed a “scratchy throat” and that general feeling of uh-oh. We immediately started canceling visits, especially with anyone more at risk.

At first, it was a bit of a stop‑and‑go situation. Was she coming down with something? Was it just a one-day thing? We stayed with our friend Carolyn on the 12th, visited Chao and Jesse the next day, and then stayed with our friends, Sue and Randy, in San Jose that night. We had planned to stay two nights. It turned into a week.

On Sunday, we managed to see an excellent show at San Jose Stage—Million Dollar Quartet!, which tells the story of the night in 1956 when Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Carl Perkins all jammed together at Sun Records. Afterward, we had dinner with a group of friends in San Jose.

That same night, Vivian’s cough seriously kicked in, mine came the next day, and as of New Year’s Eve, we’re still trying to shake off the last of it.

The Car Title Debacle

As it turned out, even if we’d been perfectly healthy, we wouldn’t have been able to drive to Mexico anyway. While preparing our border documents—making triplicate copies like a good little bureaucratic soldier—I realized I couldn’t find the car title. After tearing through our belongings, it dawned on me that the woman at the Washington Department of Licensing (easily the least pleasant Washingtonian we met) might have taken it without telling us.

And indeed, she had. Apparently, surrendering your out‑of‑state title and waiting up to 12 weeks for a new one is standard practice. There is an expedited option—if you’re still in Washington. It would have been nice if she had mentioned that instead of silently whisking away our paperwork like a magician who forgot the “ta‑da.”

So there we were: sick, title‑less, and legally unable to bring our car into Mexico. The remaining eight days of our carefully planned route collapsed like a house of cards.

Some people suggested that “a few pesos in the right pockets” might solve the problem, but I did not feel up to testing that theory.

Plan B: Fly

Instead, we decided to fly to Mexico and retrieve the car later. We covered our leaky vehicle (which we had hoped to repair in Mexico), stacked our belongings neatly in Sue’s office, and headed to the airport wearing our thickest masks, hoping not to infect anyone. It turned out we needn’t have worried—almost everyone on the plane was already coughing. It sounded like a flying infirmary.

We arrived at our Airbnb close to midnight, exhausted and incredibly thirsty, only to discover there was no bottled water and every nearby store was closed. In a semi-delirious state, I learned to use Uber Eats and managed to order water (and, strangely, a few onigiris) from 7‑Eleven.

Uber insisted I was ordering from the Korean restaurant around the corner, and I was in no condition to argue. After a few confused messages, the delivery arrived. We drank nearly a gallon of water, ate our Mexican 7‑Eleven onigiris, left our suitcases open on the floor, and collapsed into bed for several days. That was the worst of the illness.

Later, Sue tested positive for RSV, so that’s probably what we had.

Today—New Year’s Eve—we’re feeling MUCH better, though still coughing occasionally. Until that stops completely, I’m staying far away from my dad and his fellow seniors.

We’ve still managed to have a few adventures, which I’ll write about soon.