We had time for one last stop before we exited the Philadelphia area. Anne loves American history. I love places with exotic feels and/or unique architecture. So we compromised and went to jail for it.
Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover:
For the last few years, my wife and I have spent our respective birthdays together finding some new place or attraction to visit as a one-day road trip — partly as an excuse to spend time together on this most wondrous day, partly to explore areas of Indiana we’ve never experienced before. My 2015 birthday destination of choice: the city of Fort Wayne, some 100+ miles northeast of here. It’s home to several manufacturing concerns, one major insurance company, a selection of buildings with historical importance to the locals, and a small comic book convention I’d never heard of before this year. We checked out the area, we found ways to enjoy ourselves, we got some much-needed exercise, and we took photos.
Fort Wayne’s tourism documents pitch a number of downtown leisure options for curious visitors — an art museum, an arboretum, their minor-league baseball stadium (home of the Fort Wayne TinCaps), a museum of religious artifacts dating back to the 13th century (closed weekends, alas), courthouse tours, and so on. After much consideration and random wandering, we settled for a post-lunch tour of their History Center. My wife is a history buff. I like places made of exhibits. Best of all, it was just three blocks east of where we had lunch. Who could deny so many converging criteria?
Day Nine was the final leg of our journey, from the fair city of Cleveland to our hometown of Indianapolis. By this time my wife, my son, and I were ready to finish our gallivanting, return home, climb back into our own sleeping quarters, and swear off free hotel breakfasts for the rest of the summer. A man can only ingest so many stale mini-muffins before madness begins to creep in at the edges.
But it wouldn’t be our kind of road trip if we let a single pass without at least one stop along the way. Fortunately we found just the place to unwind, wander around, stretch our legs, clear our heads, broaden our horizons, and imagine how daily living might look if we walked in the shoes of another man completely unlike ourselves.
So we went to prison.
The last day of vacation is always the worst. Our trips are spent living several days outside the confines of the everyday rat race, determining our own itinerary, making up our meal schedule as we go, enjoying the activities of our choosing in faraway places where our normal responsibilities can’t follow us. Inevitably the time arrives for transitioning from the freedom of the open road to the confines of our ordinary lives and the cubicle jobs that fund these expeditions.