Bucket List Vacation
written by: Pamela Peffer
The wheels of Connie Klaus’s carry-on bag clattered behind her, noise echoing off the walls of the empty terminal in Aéroport international Jean-Lesage de Québec. Her flight from Berlin had arrived early. She breezed through Starbucks for a much-needed caffeine jolt and scurried to Gate Four to await her husband. At 7 a.m. the morning after Christmas, finding a place to sit was an easy task. Connie slid into a corner seat facing the windows and swirled her suitcase to rest next to her. The jumbo jet had arrived and was tucked securely to the jetway. Soon a parade of disembarking passengers, burdened with luggage and coats, would stream by.
Our rendezvous in Québec, at last. Connie removed the plastic lid from her coffee cup and inhaled the rich aroma of her White Chocolate Mocha. She swiped the straw over the whipped cream and popped the mound into her mouth. Yummy.
A slow trickle of blurry-eyed passengers emerged from the jetway, but she knew he would be one of the last to leave the plane. He always was. Connie’s thoughts drifted to their long-awaited bucket list vacation: two weeks in Hawaii. Sun, surf, cocktails with paper parasols, and snuggles in the sack. She chuckled to herself, almost embarrassed, as she imagined reigniting their fiery passion.
Jolted from her fantasy, the disembarking flight crew passed behind her. Where’s Kris? She hurried to the information desk. “Have all the passengers disembarked?”
“Oui, madame,” the clerk replied, continuing to type and stare at her monitor.
“Will you check to see if Kristopher Klaus was onboard?”
The clerk stopped typing, lowered her chin, and focused a menacing glare at Connie.
“That’s his name: Kristopher Klaus, with two K’s. Check for him, please.” Connie scowled with equal menace. The clerk tapped on her keyboard, and then printed two tickets.
“He missed his flight. He’ll be arriving on Air Canada Flight 620, Gate Seventeen, at noon. His connecting flight to San Francisco, and yours, have been reticketed for 10 a.m. tomorrow. The Hawaii flight departure is unchanged.”
Connie shook her head and took the tickets from the clerk. Deep cleansing breaths. Oh, Kris, you know how important this trip is for us.
She ambled through the terminal, eyeing Collette’s Wine Bar. A foursome of young women, the only patrons, was seated at the bar. With cell phones in hand, they leaned close together, raising their wine glasses and posing for selfies. Connie paused, canting her head in thought. Perhaps I’ll join them. It’s a bit early, but maybe I’ll just drink and laugh my way toward noon. Might help me shake this angry mood.
***
Four hours later, somewhat tipsy Connie folded into a seat at Gate Seventeen and opened her e-book. Struggling to corral her wine-fueled emotions, she mentally ran through a list of possible catastrophic events that may have caused the mishap. How could he botch our dream trip right from the start?
“Connie!” Kris’s voice boomed. He darted around a stream of travelers with carry-on bags. “Connie, at last.” Clad in jeans, flannel shirt, suede jacket, and cowboy boots, he skidded to a stop in front of her, dropped his bag, threw open his arms, and beamed a full-toothed grin.
Connie slowly rose, her hands on her hips. Hmm…He looked different: short hair and a close-cropped beard. “What happened? How could you miss your plane? Why didn’t you call?” Her rapid-fire questions pelted him like BBs from a gun.
Kris dropped his arms and shrugged. “I texted you.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Connie, I did.” He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket, scrolling through his text messages. “Here it is. Oh…I didn’t hit the send button.” He let out a defeated sigh. “Baby, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t ‘baby’ me. Our trip is wrecked because of you. We’re stuck here, and our San Francisco layover is cut in half. I’m furious! Why are you always unpredictable, Kris?”
“A sweet boy requested a laptop, but we were one short, so we stopped to shop.”
“That’s not possible, Kris. You know I spend months reconciling the inventory; months and months making sure production equals demand, plotting out logistics. For the first time ever, every gift is bar coded for easy identification, organization in the sleigh, and distribution to the children.”
“Baby, I know you work hard. But I—”
“And we hired Ronnie to load the sleigh according to my final lists. You know how those pesky elves like to slack off once all the presents are assembled. Loading up your sleigh in an orderly manner is the last thing they want to do.”
Kris lowered himself to a seat next to Connie’s. “Sit down, sweetheart, let’s get all this sorted out before we start our vacation.” He took Connie’s hand and gently tugged so she would sit next to him. “Connie, it seems that Ronnie has caused unrest amongst the elves.”
“What are you talking about, Kris? Ronnie’s a robot not a labor organizer.”
“Maybe so, but four of the elves went on strike last night after you went home to pack. They said it was either them or the robot.”
“What? Why didn’t I know this? I’d¬—”
“You’d fire them, wouldn’t you? After they’ve devoted their lives to me for years, decades, centuries? You’d choose the technology solution and send my dear elves packing.”
“Kris, we need to keep up with technology. The times are changing rapidly. I’m afraid ‘Santa’ will become obsolete…a relic…if we don’t try to keep up.”
Kris sighed. “It’s a wonder what a college degree has done for you, Connie. Your mind is ablaze with new ideas and new possibilities for storing and distributing toys. Lots of knowledge about logistics. And baby, I love you for your spunk, but have you left room in your heart for the wonder, and the magic, and the love that Santa brings?”
“But pizzaz, Kris. Have we lost pizzaz?”
“Sure, all dressed up in the same red and white suit, I’m a stodgy old jolly man trotted out year after year.”
“Oh, I have an idea about your suit too.”
“Don’t tell me, let me guess. Sequins?” Kris struggled to hide a smile.
“No, I was thinking of a costume change when you deliver toys to children in the southern hemisphere. Since it’s summer there…something more tropical?”
“More tropical? Hmmm…perhaps yellow. I’d look like a giant fat banana slipping down the chimney. Would my reputation be intact after the first season as Santa Banana?”
Connie cut her eyes toward Kris and squeezed his hand. “Now you’re being silly, Kris.”
“Just carrying your ideas to an illogical extreme for comparative purposes, my dear.”
She paused a beat and gathered all her thoughts. “You want to push me out of the workshop again. ‘Stay home, Connie. Rest, read, knit. You work too hard. I can handle the shop without you,’ you told me over and over. That’s why I enrolled in college and worked toward my degree in logistics. I want to be there, to help, to share Christmas joy and contribute, perhaps in a major way. And Ronnie was a big step forward, Kris, our ticket to efficiency and the jump to light speed.”
He kneeled before Connie, cupping her hands between his. “My dear wife, my soul mate. How can the world’s most popular guy be so dumb?” He raised her hands to his lips, kissing her fingers. “Without you, I’m no one…not Santa, not Kris. You complete me, Connie.”
Silence floated between them. He could almost hear her brain assembling her next response, but she remained uncharacteristically quiet. He looked deep into her eyes. “The magic of Christmas, the magic of Santa, the love that lives throughout the world, if only for weeks. That’s the love that I have for you and you for me. That’s the love we want to share with the world, Connie. Children and adults…all people…crave the love we have and the love we make for the world each year. And yesterday was the day. I’m sorry I missed my plane, but I had to, Connie.”
A tidal wave of shame engulfed Connie as a tear trickled down her cheek. “No, no…I’m the one to blame. Last night you put your job ahead of me. You put compassion first. You brought joy to that boy, just like the angel you have always been. And here I am, putting progress first and complaining that the order list couldn’t be wrong and that my robot-gone-crazy isn’t appreciated and mad as I can be that we missed our connecting flight. I am so sorry.” She rested her forehead against Kris’s. “Can we forgive each other?”
“Oh yes, my love.” His lips brushed away the tear, slid down her cheek, and rounded her ear. The sensation of his touch and the warmth of his peppermint breath sent shivers through her nerves. “Wife, dear wife, I have missed you so. You had your nose in books for four years, but now you’re back to complete me once again.”
“I love you, wooly man,” she gasped, turning his head side to side, surveying the new Kris.
“I found a barber shop in the Paris airport. Do you like the look?”
“Sexy, definitely sexy. Will you be authentic by next Christmas, Santa?”
“No problem, Mrs. Klaus,” he chuckled as he stood, pulling Connie with him. “You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?”
“Just a little. Had to do something other than fret for four hours.”
He whispered, “I rented a luxury hotel room for tonight. They said they had no vacancies, but when I told them to put me on the wait list and gave them my name, a vacant room was discovered. And best of all,” he said with a wink, “it has a Jacuzzi…”
“Room enough for two?”
“You, me, bottle of champagne, lots of bubbles.”
“Champagne makes me sleepy.”
“No chance tonight. It’s party time, Mrs. K. We must celebrate the reunion of our hearts.”
They locked arms, grabbed their bags, and strolled toward the baggage claim area.
“Kris, I want a souvenir from Hawaii, something special to commemorate our bucket list vacation. How about a little orchid tattooed on my right butt cheek?”
Kris stopped, gazed down into her dancing blue eyes, and matched her grin. “A tattoo of an orchid? On your butt? A permanent tattoo?”
“Yep, right here,” she said as she pointed to her rear.
“You, a mature woman of stature in the world, a grown woman who lives in the frozen tundra, with a tattoo of an orchid on your right butt cheek?”
“You seem shocked, Kris. Who do you think will see it but you? I won’t be running around in a thong bikini, not even on the beaches of Hawaii.”
“Well, I am shocked… I don’t understand why you selected the right cheek as opposed to the left cheek. I say tattoo them both.” He pressed a kiss to her mouth. “Works of art in my opinion, and they come as a set.”
- Bucket List Vacation - December 26, 2024
