This story begins with a sad tone but highlights the importance of family, love, and eating breakfast before travel. After waking up at 4am on a cold, rainy Oregon morning, I headed back to my birthplace of Palm Desert, California for my grandpa’s funeral. Maybe it was the air travel, maybe it was the smell of Cinnabon at the start of each terminal, maybe it was the nerves of attending my first funeral in 20 years… but today would be the day I achieved a lifelong goal of interstate pooping.
Let’s back up a little for context… I was born and raised in Palm Desert, California (the deserty, more local side of Palm Springs). Most of my childhood friends and family (including my mom and grandparents) still live in the Coachella Valley. But ever since the pandemic, I had only really seen my mom as we passed through the Valley on our way to other destinations. It was during our first few months of life on the road that we found out my grandpa (Poppy to me) was diagnosed with cancer.
Poppy was a proud man, and that’s how I always knew him growing up. He never let me see him when he felt sick or had low energy – not once. Our time together when I was a kid included one of my most memorable summers on the garlic and grape fields of Mexico where he taught me about managing agricultural ranches while eating pan dulce for the first time. As I grew older, we bonded over golf and humorous quips. He was a jokester for sure, always trying to get a laugh out of me and Tay whenever we saw him.
As we got older and moved away, we had fewer visits. And as Poppy got sicker, the visits stopped altogether. We still managed to squeeze in a video call during the pandemic where we laughed and smiled just like we did when I was young. Then… one day as Tay and I were boondocking out in the forest of Oregon, we got the call that Poppy had passed away. It still felt sudden and unexpected even though we knew it was coming.
As my mom’s only child and Poppy’s only grandkid, I knew I wanted to get back for the funeral to support my mom. But we truly didn’t know how we could make it work. There was no way Cream Puff could book it down to southern California from Oregon by the time the funeral would take place. Two dogs and two last-minute plane tickets complicated this further.
So, we made the choice that I’d go solo to the funeral. After a bereavement flight purchase, I was set to fly to Palm Springs, California in a couple days. A lot had to happen with the rig before my departure – I wanted Tay to have a safe spot to stay while I was away since it’d be our first time apart in 2 years. We found the only campground available last minute near Eugene in the summer (thanks to a recent cancellation) and booked immediately.
The plan:
- Pick up groceries for the week on our way to the campground
- Get the RV all set up so that she could remain stationary with the pups during my time away
- Take a scheduled 4 am Uber/Lyft to the airport to make my early flight
- Backup plan was for Tay to drive me to the airport, but we weren’t sure of clearances and how difficult that would be in Cream Puff
- Layover in Salt Lake City, Utah
- My mom picks me up at Palm Springs to head to the viewing together
You know how most plans (especially when you’re in an RV) don’t actually work out? Well, maybe Poppy was looking out for me, but this plan worked perfectly. The Uber actually arrived at our campground at 4:00 am, I had plenty of time to get to my flight, and there were no delays. And this is where the pooping started.
None of the food options were open that early in the Eugene airport, but it didn’t really matter because I spent the extra time I had before my flight in the men’s room. I thought to myself, “thank god I took care of that pre-flight.” Joke was on me!
Halfway through the flight to Salt Lake City, I felt a few gurgles and wrote it off as hunger from not having breakfast. After a quick bite at SLC, those gurgles turned into an angry grumble and off to the men’s room I went. Ok, got it all out of my system this time… or so I thought.
As I landed in Palm Springs, my mom was ready outside to pick me up even though my flight was pretty early. Thankfully it was because we had just enough time to go back to her house before the viewing to drop off my bag and once again head to my porcelain throne.
We headed to the viewing where I saw Poppy one last time, sharply-dressed and accompanied by a mariachi band, bringing some light to an otherwise sad event. When the viewing came to an end, the family friends and loved ones started pouring in as we reminisced on Poppy’s stories and childhood adventures. My mom and her friends told stories and laughed and cried while I got the classic cheek squeeze and “bery bery bootiful” compliment from his wife, Maria.
The next day, more loved ones joined for the service as we continued to exchange stories of Poppy and decades we all shared together. More hugs. More love. More tears. More laughter. But luckily, no more #2.
At the end of the day, I was so grateful Poppy was able to bring the whole family together after years of being apart. It was truly a service he would be proud of. Although I couldn’t hear his adventures spoken through his words anymore, I learned more about him and all the people he touched throughout his life in those two days than I ever expected.
My mom and I headed back home to unwind, rest, and reflect and we both knew that was exactly what Poppy would’ve wanted. It was during this time at home and after sharing a few glasses of wine with my mom that I laughed as I realized something amazing… I had actually pooped in three states in one day – immediately calling Tay to share the big news!!
