Vacation on Earth

“Cheryl, it’s our last day and we have to be on the launchpad at 8pm sharp.” I nagged my bestie between her fourth and fifth wardrobe change.

“I know, I just want to look good for the pictures.” Her composure and tone soothed me while somehow stirring my anxiety. It was like uppers and downers at the same time. I didn’t let her distract me from my goal. And that was what to do on our last day on our trip to Earth.

“What pictures?” I asked.

“Of us. It doesn’t matter what we do, we’re gonna look fabulous. At least I will.”

“Of us doing what? What do you wanna do?” I asked her for what seemed like the 60th time.

“Let’s take a walk through an ocean town!” She perked.

I rolled my eyes. My head leaned to a tilt. And i added aggressive side eyes.

“Dude, we’re in fucking San Francisco.”

“Exactly. It’s a city not a town. Let’s go to a cute little town. Why not cruise down to Santa Cruz for old times sake?! We can even stop in Davenport for a really, really small town and see if the Roadhouse is still open.” She was beaming now. “I love their lasagna!”

“We spent the first 30 years of our lives in Santa Cruz. We were priced out a decade ago. Do you really want to get expensive, warm Budweiser at Days Market and drink it out of a brown bag at 3rd?”

“Oh my god! I miss 3rd! The views of Seabright Beach. All the sunsets,” Her eyes rolled back and I knew it was all downhill from there.

“Don’t forget the sunrises when I worked nocturnal shift and went there to unwind.”

“I wasn’t there so it doesn’t count.”

“We’re not in space right now, does that mean our home doesn’t count?”

“Dammit Mike, it doesn’t matter right now. Why you being such a downer. We have plenty of time, lighten up.”

“I’m just kinda bummed. I don’t wanna go back to space. I wish we could have afforded to live here still.” I admitted.

“I know. I feel kinda deceived. The idea of the Space Colony seemed a lot more exciting than reality. It’s so cold, and dark.” She said.

“Hey at least you get to work in the garden dome. It’s full of light. And plants. The loading dock is the coldest place on that vessel and most of the lights flash. Don’t get me started on all the beeping alarms, it’s crazy making.” I complained.

“True, but we’ve saved enough money to make the trip to Earth every single year we’ve been up there. When did we ever go on vacation when we lived in California?”

“Maybe living in California was the vacation.” I offered.

“Remember when only rich people could go to space?” She chuckled and took a swig from a bottle of Pinot Grigio.

“Now it’s the slums of the solar system.” I chuckled.

“But nobody else knows that!” She assured.

Then she did something only a true friend would do. Cheryl kneeled down as I sat on the edge of the bed and extended her hands to me. One of them to pass me the wine, the other gently landed just above my knee. Her Bambi eyes met mine with compassion. It didn’t matter that we were about to be tourists in the same town that we couldn’t afford to live in. We had a home, and each other, and we were generally happy. Plus, having an extraterrestrial ID gave us an adventurous mystique and instant popularity at every bar, taco shop, night club and street food vender we told. Cheryl called it the “panty-dropper”. It sure seemed to work out for her.

And by the way, the Roadhouse in Davenport was still open and the lasagna was still good!