Memory #16 -- Bowling in Lausanne

I met Deb 6 months after my father had passed in 1989. My Dad and I always had a contentious relationship. I may be wrong but I think that's a common dynamic between a father and a firstborn son. 

The friction between he and I didn't subside until the last years of his life when he was mellowed by prostate cancer. And the reassuring knowledge that I was making a decent living as a copywriter. 

"From the luft", he would beam to his doctors, "my son makes a living from the luft."

From the air, for those unfamiliar with Yiddish. Meaning I had no tangible skills other than to pull words from the ether and put them in the kind of order that would merit a paycheck.

The point is I was devastated by the loss of a man who I both detested and loved for so long. And so I was magically buoyed when I met Deb at a huge party in the mansion of Kathleen Brown (sister of California governor Jerry Brown) and wife of Van Gordon Sauter, former President of CBS News. 

How we arrived there is a story I'll save for a different time.

Four months after meeting and dating, Deb boldly came to me with a proposition. One that tested my provincialism and my lack of spontaneity.

"I have thousands of unused airline miles from all my days on the road. Let's go to Europe. We'll go to England, Scotland, France, Switzerland, Italy."

"Wait what?"

I had never stepped foot off Terra America, but I knew that three weeks of close quarter traveling could easily spoil even the best of relationships, particularly ones that were just burgeoning. Particularly since I was beginning to sprout ear hair and would be hard pressed to manscape while hustling around across the pond.

"Sure", I blurted, not knowing how those words came out of my mouth.

I won't give you the whole travelogue, but here's the abridged version:

* Had the world's best curry in Manchester

* Saw a construction worker pee in the corner of a pub no American should have entered, The Dirty Rat and Hungry Roach, I believe it was called

* Spent 4 hours singing and drinking with new Scottish friends in the train Bar Car

* Enjoyed a home cooked meal with Uncle Bennie and my Aunt Helen, a woman with the heartiest laughs ever heard

* Discovered that the Scottish proclivity for thriftiness was well earned as Aunt Helen only heated the parts of her rowhouse that were necessary

* Celebrated "Bon Ani" in Paris with crazy French people, including: overturned cars, silly string on the streets, and arriving back to the hotel at 4 AM after getting lost (and loving it) on the Metro

* Hopped a bullet train to Switzerland 

It was all going so surprisingly well, despite the excessive cigarette smoke, the sometimes unusual food and dining hours and the weirdly undersized beds. Keep in mind, Deb abhorred big American style chain hotels and booked all our rooms at places that were off the beaten path and cloyingly "cute."

But when we got to Lausanne, Deb caught some kind of bug. This would be a pattern throughout all our future trips. Either she, or one of my daughters, would always get sick. I like to think it has nothing to do with me, but who knows?

And so we slowed down. 

Because of her much needed bedrest, our time in this beautiful city on the hill leading down to Lake Geneva was limited. And so when she recovered, we did what all American tourists do when satiated with European quaintness and rich culture -- we went bowling.

Nothing particularly noteworthy happened at this tiny 8 lane establishment. But it never failed to produce a smile (and a laugh) between us when recalling the fact that here we were 10,000 miles on the other side of the world, in a bowling alley, that most American of American diversions. 

Fun fact: Bowling alleys were once called "drunkeries" by a prudish press who were marching us towards Prohibition.

Perhaps I'll save the second half of our trip for another day. Suffice it to say, we survived our three week long trip. And instead of it ripping us apart as I had once feared, it drew us closer.

Even closer when, on the return flight back to the USA, Deb asked me...

"What's the first thing you want to do when we get back home?"

"I want to go to an IHOP and have a big ole American breakfast, bacon, sausage, eggs, and sourdough toast."

"Mmmm, that sounds good", she replied.

That's when you know.