Chapter 8: Souvenirs

Saturday, August 10, 1985

Nottingham had been interesting. It was both beautiful and historic, and I could easily see returning there. We barely had a chance to see anything of the legendary Sherwood Forest, nor of the caves for which the city was also famous. We did have a drink in what might be the oldest pub in all of England, Ye Olde Trip To Jerusalem (a.k.a. The Trip). Whether or not it was, it was certainly historic. Scenic, too!

Birmingham hadn’t been a highlight. Again, we’d liked it well enough, though, and we might visit it again. We’d hardly spent enough time there to be fair to it.

Cambridge was one heck of a beautiful college town, and I could certainly see the attraction. Actually studying there wasn’t on my bucket list, but it was a beautiful town just full of history, and one could imagine students hundreds of years ago engaged in their own study groups in the same places students were studying today.

Jas and I had taken advantage of the Cambridge hotel because we weren’t going to be together tonight. Tonight was ‘“Airplane!” Day,’ the anniversary of the first date Angie and I had in this life. Under the circumstances, everyone agreed we needed to spend it together, last night in England or not.

We’d gone back to our starting point for our last night. White’s Hotel had served us well. If this was the last time we stayed here, we would have fond memories of it.

We made one last stroll through Hyde Park in the afternoon, had dinner at a nice restaurant, then went to bed. Tomorrow would be something of a whirlwind, and also a very long day. We might nap on the plane, but the goal was generally to simply make it a thirty-one-hour day, getting up at a normal time in London and going to bed at a normal time in Houston.

“Long trip,” Angie said once we were all snuggled up and the lights were out. She was, once again, wearing her favorite PJs.

“Very long,” I said.

“Good trip!” she said.

“Very good trip, indeed.”

She sighed and stretched. “I ... hell. Even that first year, even the second year, even after the gambling and the money and everything, I never imagined this! I don’t think I was ready to imagine it.”

“I didn’t either, Sis. The reasons are a bit different, but...”

“Yeah,” she said. “And ... I think that’s a good thing. We’re becoming the people we need to be now. We didn’t need to be these people then. Good, above-average high school students — that’s who we needed to be. Overachievers, but overachievers surrounded by other overachievers, and within reason. Right now, we’re that, but for college. Within a few years, everyone will likely know just how much we’ve overachieved, but ... now? It’s for us.”

“I agree.”

She shifted a bit and said, “There’s ... it’s...”

“Sharon,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said, exhaling deeply. “I’m pondering, and ... maybe ... not now, but one day ... we can offer her something like a scholarship to learn something. She’s not at all stupid, no matter how many times I’ve called her a fucking moron. I don’t want her working for us, not even very indirectly, but — assuming we have the money, and I feel safe making that assumption — I’d be willing to bankroll her getting some skills. Something where she could do something real. It’s...”

I just hugged her and waited her out. I had a guess as to where she was going, but I wanted her to get there on her own timetable.

After a bit, she said, “She and I aren’t the same, but ... I think about how I felt when I was facing leaving prison with a college degree. I expected to have a lot of trouble getting hired. She’s a felon, too, and she doesn’t have any real skills, nor any credentials. Of course, she’s depressed and thinking her life going forward is likely to suck. Right now, she can flip burgers and cook fries. Maybe waitress. But, given opportunity — and some drive, which has to come from her — she can do better than that.”

“I agree,” I said. “I mean, with the whole thing. The money has to be watched...”

“Naturally,” she said. “And I’m thinking about it because the clock is running.”

“I get that.”

“We keep doing this to ourselves!” she said, giggling a bit. “Five years ago, we were just random, anonymous kids going to see ‘Airplane!’ and trying to build a friendship. Now, we’re ... us. In the newspapers, being recognized at shareholder meetings, all of that. God, we suck at keeping a low profile, don’t we?”

“We do,” I said, chuckling. “It’s probably all for the best. If we exploded into the news out of nowhere in a few years, there might be more scrutiny than there will be. Right now, people will just say, ‘I knew those kids were destined for great things!’”

“We sure seem to be. And it’s not just ‘the best of all possible worlds.’”

“It’s not.”

She shifted, then kissed me softly.

“I love you, big brother. Which ... really is the point of tonight. ‘Airplane!’ put everything in motion. Little did we know it then, but...”

“I love you, little sister. And ... yeah, it did.”

“Pretending not to know what was going to happen was kinda fun,” she said.

“It really was,” I said, squeezing her a bit.

“Let’s get some sleep. Long day tomorrow.”

“Right there with you,” I said.

“Always.”

“Forever.”

Sunday, August 11, 1985

We made it to Heathrow with hours to spare, got our bags checked, and settled in to wait for our flight.

As we waited, we went over the trip again. Everyone agreed: we’d exceeded expectations. Oh, sure, we hadn’t even set foot in mainland Europe, but that was fine. Jas and I would absolutely visit the Continent, and I was sure Ang and Paige would, too. Not right away, but not all that far away.

We went over everyone’s list of ‘next places’ and that confirmed it. Everyone had the Continent high on their list. Australia and New Zealand were popular with everyone. So were the touristy parts of Mexico and Canada.

I had Russia on my list, but only post-Soviet Russia. The others were provisionally interested, but wanted to see what ‘post-Soviet’ looked like. Angie had lived through some of that time, but she hadn’t paid the least attention to what was going on in Russia for fairly obvious reasons.

Jas and I both put Vietnam on our list, though that would be far in the future. Much too soon after the war right now, even more than a decade later. They still really didn’t like Americans much at all!

Japan was on everyone’s list. China was on mine and Paige’s, and neither Jas nor Angie were opposed.

After that, it was a bit of a toss-up. Jas was curious about India. Angie was interested in parts of Africa, especially a photo safari sort of trip. Paige had some thoughts about Brazil and Argentina. For me, the broader area of Eastern Europe seemed interesting, but that, too, would have to be post-Soviet. There were other crises to be considered as well. No one wanted to go to Bosnia during their war, for instance.

Not that Bosnia was a country yet. Right now it was still part of Yugoslavia.

In any case, we had plenty of things to keep us busy. Now we needed to do the work necessary to make sure we had the money and time to actually take those trips.

I definitely didn’t want to wind up like Dad, planning endless trips but never taking most of them. For that matter, I didn’t want Dad to wind up that way, either. We were already helping, it appeared, and we would keep doing so.

Our flight was on time, boarding went well, and we were in the air a bit ahead of our scheduled departure time. With none of the gadgets one would have on flights in the future (no pretty LCD screens showing the plane’s location, for instance), we watched the ground under the windows off and on for a while, then switched to reading, listening to music, playing cards, and other diversions.

They served the meal about an hour into the flight. The food was surprisingly good, but it was 1985 and an international flight. All of that made decent food more understandable.

While Jas was napping, I started pondering our engagement once again. That, and how it affected our travel plans.

If Jas and I got engaged this coming winter (which was, after all, largely up to me, unless she absolutely devastated me with an unimaginable ‘no,’ anyway), one logical step would be to travel with Camille and Francis to France and visit the French relatives. Compared to Aunt Helen, how bad could it be?

It was, almost certainly, our best option. Being engaged was, after all, a requirement, or so we’d been told. The summer of 1986 might be better than the winter of 1986, both because we would be there sooner and because the weather would be better. By the summer of 1987 we would be married, and it might suck if our first meeting with Jasmine’s extended family was at our wedding. We wouldn’t go to France for our honeymoon for fairly obvious reasons.

So, if not then, the winter of 1987? Maybe, but that would be a post-wedding trip, which is different. And it might be impossible.

After that, the dynamics would shift considerably. I wanted to know what Jasmine’s family thought of me as a middle-class high-achieving college student, not me as a multi-millionaire investor. Money changes everything, right? A before and after comparison (which seemed inevitable) would be fascinating. Just seeing ‘after’ with no ‘before’ would be frustrating.

I would discuss this with Jas, but she wasn’t to know the proposal would be this winter. She probably guessed it — was probably nearly certain of it — but telling her would wreck whatever surprise there was and turn a winter trip into something where every outing became ‘Will he propose now? What about now? Now? Now?’

Ugh. Under those circumstances, the most surprising proposal would be at the airport on our way off to wherever we were going. Or, even better, a week before the trip, somewhere in Houston.

The pilot announced we were over the United States hours before our arrival in Houston. Not that we expected anything different, but it’s one of those milestones where everyone gives a brief cheer (if, perhaps, only a mental one), then realizes they might be celebrating a trifle prematurely.

On the good side, it gave us plenty of time to fill out our customs forms. This time, it mattered. We had several bottles of good scotch, our new Johnstone tartan clothing, and various other souvenirs and other purchases, some of which had to be declared. We were far under the limits, and nothing we had was going to get us in trouble, but there was no point having even a technical violation on our records. The odds were high we would be international travelers for the rest of our lives, after all.

We landed in Houston a bit ahead of schedule. I gave Dad a call right after we landed. Jas called Camille at the same time, and Paige called Tony. Angie, meanwhile, called Cammie and Mel with the news of our return. We’d promised to check in with all of them, though Dad and Mom would be the ones picking us up.

Customs was bogged down, and it took us almost an hour and a half to get through. Once we were finally released, it was to find Mom, Dad, Camille, Francis, Tony, and Jean all waiting. Many, many hugs later, Jas and I found ourselves in Mom and Dad’s car. Ang and Paige were riding with Tony and Jean.

We only went about three miles, though, stopping at a restaurant near the airport and having dinner together. They’d made reservations, thankfully, so we were seated right away.

We showed off quite a few of the trip pictures (though we had dozens more to show later), and told them about most of our travels. By popular accord, we avoided mention of most of Scotland. That was going to be a surprise for Dad, perhaps as soon as later tonight. It wouldn’t mean nearly as much to the Nguyens or the Seilers. On the other hand, it was quite a big deal for Dad (or, at least, Angie and I both thought it was), and he deserved it to be a highlight, not just part of this big dinner.

Over dinner, we came up with a plan. The four of us would be at Mom and Dad’s house tonight. Tomorrow night, Jas and I would stay with the Nguyens, and Paige and Angie would be at the Seilers’ house. That would flip again on Tuesday. After that, we’d see what everyone felt like.

We also owed any number of friends some extended phone calls. We’d be using our calling cards quite a bit over the next few days.

As of now, there was nothing urgent taking us to College Station, so we would keep to the plan and go back up there on the 19th. We really did have a fair bit of stuff to do to get ready. It wasn’t just for classes. We had things to do for the backyard (after all, we had friends who would love parties in our upgraded backyard), work to do on the house to get ready for Candice and Sherry, reconnecting with Cammie and Mel, and so forth.