I just got back from a weeklong trip to Sebago Lake, Maine. And I use the word "trip" as opposed to "vacation" because a vacation is something you enjoy. A trip is something you endure. And for the most part last week in Maine was a struggle for survival, like Shackelton's journey only with kids along to add to raise the misery index. Out of seven days we got maybe one full day and two half days when it wasn't raining. As a general rule, I've always found it's preferable not to spend your vacation sitting in the middle of an RV park in a rented Twister Magnet (TM) brand motor home listening to tornado warnings from the National Weather Service. Just one man's opinion. Fortunately for us, the advisory was downgraded to "severe thunderstorm warnings" then to "flood watch." We shut off the TV before they started talking about plagues of locusts and the lake turning to blood.

The one day it did clear, we went down to the lake... which if I recall was the reason we came to begin with... and it was virtually empty. Perfect. We had the place practically to ourselves. But we'd no sooner sat down than a huge family with absurdly loud voices came along and set up camp three feet in front of us. I'm not exaggerating. Three feet. So instead of gazing at the lake I drove four hourse to see I found myself staring at the winner of the 2008 Maine Hairy Shoulders Cup. And her husband.

So the only solution was to sit inside and drink. Fortunately we had friends staying nearby who took the same approach. And as much fun as sitting around boozing it up is, one more day of that and my next reservation would've been at Betty Ford.

Anyway, the point of this rant... if I have a point... is: Am I owed something? This is probably my one and only trip this year and were it not for the resiliency of my liver, I wouldn't have enjoyed more than a few hours of it. And it happens to me every year. I can't sue God or the National Weather Service, but don't I deserve satisfaction? Personally I think since I paid the resort for seven days of fun in the sun, they owe it to me to let me stay there until I get all seven days. If it takes a month or until my liver gives out, whichever comes first. The damned shame of it is, weather aside I love Maine: "Where the homes have wheels and the cars are up on blocks." I just feel like I've been completely ripped off and somebody owes me big time.