[...] This is a continuation of the February 1 post. [...]

I’m sure that almost anyone who has traveled a bit over the years has a funny story to tell. I got quite a laugh out of yours, Michael. I’ve really been enjoying everyone’s input on this one!
When I was young and the possibility of running out of money was an ongoing threat, I remember enduring horrific accommodations. There was the quaint pension in Italy where the shower was literally next to the bed; the stifling overnight train in Egypt where the cockroaches came out en masse every time the lights in our cabin were turned off; and the paper-thin walls at a hotel in Spain where rooms on both sides seemed to be occupied by exuberant honey-moon couples. But the story that stands out in my mind is one that occurred right here in the U.S.
Back in the day, as they say, I was a flight attendant for the now-defunct TWA. As a “newbie” I often ended up with the least desirable flights which entailed long days with many flights. After one particularly exhausting day which had begun in the early morning hours, the crew finally landed in Miami and headed to our hotel around mid-afternoon. I was so tired that I decided to forego the usual crew get together for dinner. Instead I was looking forward to ordering room service, putting on my comfy threadbare nightgown and kicking back in front of the TV. All went according to plan until I decided to place my finished room service tray in the hall for pick-up. I’m still not exactly sure what happened; as I leaned out of my room to scoot the tray along the wall, my foot, which had been preventing the door from closing, slipped and the door shut behind me with a click. And there I stood at 5:00 p.m., no shoes, no robe, and a ratty (and rather transparent) nightgown. I racked my brain to remember the room numbers of other crew members but drew a blank. I stood forlornly in the deserted hall for awhile, hoping someone would happen along and allow me use the phone in their room to call downstairs; the hallway remained empty and silent. And, to top it off, I now suddenly had to go to the bathroom. With no alternatives coming to mind, I decided to take the elevator to the lobby, rush to the nearest employee and request another room key. With any luck, the lobby would be empty and only a few employees would witness the scene. As it turns out, luck was not with me that day. Upon arrival in the lobby it became immediately apparent that my hallway had been empty because everyone in the hotel seemed to be in the lobby! And, to make things worse, there was no way to reach an employee without crossing the entire room to the front desk. To this day I still blush as I remember the smirks of the amused hotel guests. It is very difficult to look dignified when you are barefoot and half-naked, but I did my best to keep my head up as I made the long journey to the front desk.
At long last, key in hand, I escaped back to the elevator and beat a hasty retreat to my room—not to emerge until crew report the next morning.

I have a comical train story too Michael. I was traveling with my son and daughter-in-law on an overnight train from Stockholm to Copenhagen. We were not expecting six bunks in this tiny compartment to be shared with complete strangers. One of our fellow roommates was a fellow that had done some heavy drinking and smelled heavy of alcohol. The other fellow must of eaten an entire pot of chili for his dinner. You can imagine the toots and gases that emulated from his bunk. My daughter-in-law was crying softly and my son was trying to comfort her in this night of sorrow. We also had to share our small bunks with our giant size backpacks. We too learned that trains do not have a secured area for luggage.

A very funny story Michael, loved it! John and I were eating lunch at a little restaurant in Italy one trip, and they had a four-cheese pizza, but for some reason we thought four was over doing it and ordered a pizza with only two cheeses. Well that’s what we thought until two four-cheese pizzas arrived! Ok, not quite as romantic as your train-baggage-shower trip.

I’ve definitely had a few unexpected turns for the worst. Sometimes, like your shower escapade, the experience turns into something you can laugh at years later.

One of the more memorable moments for me occurred during my first “independent” trip as a college student, traveling to Europe for a few weeks. We were visiting many popular tourist destinations, including Italy’s Cinque Terre. For whatever reason, we chose not to make reservations before the trip, which was a big mistake in August. When we arrived at the first of the five towns late one afternoon, we discovered that the entire town was booked (including any family floors we could potentially sleep on). So we hiked to the next town… which was also booked solid. As was the next. Ultimately we ended up sharing a picnic table on the cliffside trail halfway between towns, which was perched high above a very noisy nude beach. It certainly wasn’t the most comfortable night, but thinking back on it always makes me chuckle.

From my experience, letdowns due to unreasonably high expectations are a bit different from the random snafus and disappointments that can occur during travel. Failing to make a reservation in the Cinque Terre in high tourist season was a simple mistake we paid for. Traveling to a remote research station in the Amazon that biologists and wildlife experts had told me was “far better than Costa Rica for wildlife” and coming away crushed by a disappointing four days in which we saw a single lizard (and almost nothing else) is something different.

My expectations for trips are usually derived from a combination of my own experiences and those of others. I go to Yellowstone every year, so it’s easy to judge what makes for a good/fun/successful trip to the park nowadays, since I have a solid collection of past experiences to reference. But when I’m researching a new destination and read about the wonders one can possibly experience there, I naturally get excited. As I register more and more opinions telling me the same thing (e.g., “better than Costa Rica!”), my expectations are bolstered, leading to even greater potential for a letdown.

So how do we manage expectations? Well, it’s pretty hard to not want to research a place and learn about what’s there. Without that research we wouldn’t get excited enough about the place to even go there, right? So maybe it comes down in part to what your goals are and what’s at stake. As a photographer, my travel fun is occasionally tempered by the fact that I have to come away from the experience with some tangible: photos, sometimes of certain subjects, and not just the memories we usually take away from a trip. But if you travel with less specific goals and a more open mind geared toward exploration and a bit of spontaneity, you’re probably more likely to be able to “roll with the punches” and come away with some fun memories even from those occasional unplanned events.

Hi Michael,

Enjoyed the story. But why would a train from Paris to Madrid go through the Swiss border?

LOL! Michael, I so appreciate your sharing that story – so stressful while living it, but funny in hindsight. The ability to see the ridiculousness of a situation is a great quality in a travel companion (and life partner).

My husband and I planned for a hiking trip in Switzerland by buying thin raincoats with no rain pants, our New York logic being “It’s August! We’ll just be dayhiking! How bad can the weather get? And if it’s raining, we just won’t go hiking!”

Of course, weather in the Alps is highly changeable, and we ended up hiking up a mountain in beautiful, clear skies, only to round a corner, and see something like smoke blowing over the ridge toward us. “What is that? Smoke?” No, clouds! And…HAIL.

It was a bit nervewracking to be caught in a hailstorm, but when we got back down safe and sound and were eating fondue and drinking beers, we laughed with our friends at our naivete – now, “We just won’t hike if it’s raining!” is what we say to each other when we pack for trips (or at least, it’s what I like to say as an excuse to cram everything I own into our luggage).