ROAD TRIP

Pretty woman Julia Roberts has a new movie out called Eat, Pray, Love, based on the true-life experiences of one Elizabeth Gilbert, who wanted more than just a successful career, handsome husband, and designer home. How she could deal with the deprivation, I don’t know. Her answer to her “problems” was, of course, to get divorced, take a year’s sabbatical from work, and travel around the world. Isn’t that what EVERY woman does when she’s starting over? She dines at the finest Italian restaurants with young hottie James Franco, is religiously inspired in India, then hooks up with Mr. Testosterone Javier Bardem in Bali. It sounds like one of those movies we can all relate to--especially the part about desiring Javier.

Julia is getting rave reviews for “humanizing Liz’s plight,” whatever the heck that means. I haven’t yet seen this movie, but I can certainly relate to Ms. Gilbert’s terrible dilemma. I once had a $30,000 a year job, was married to an average guy, and lived in a bungalow. And, when I got divorced, I packed up my troubles and took off on a 4-day road trip to Texas with my gal pals, Library Lady and Ana Banana. (that’s pronounced: Ah-nuh Buh-nah-nuh). We were just like Mrs. Gilbert, sort of. We ate a lot at cheap restaurants, prayed we’d survive a night in Houston, and loved, well, no one, really.

Our ultimate destination was Galveston, but we had a layover in downtown Houston in order to tour a museum, where we hoped to see world treasures and meet Javier Bardem. We stayed in some seedy motel where the night clerk greeted us with, “Are you here for the Gay Pride parade?”

When we unpacked and turned on the 6 PM TV news, we were startled at the content. Every other story was about some grisly Houston murder that had taken place that day. I was especially shocked about the jogger who’d been killed-- her hands and feet cut off. What’s with that? So much for my plan to lace up my Nikes and take a little spin around the block. We didn’t venture any farther that night than the vending machines, and we lounged out on the motel roof listening to music and police sirens.

After our trip to the museum the next morning, it was onward to Galveston. En route, we entertained ourselves on the clogged Interstate by playing Pocket Trivia and reading all the billboards advertising vasectomies. Texas, we have a big problem--and it’s inside your pants.

Galveston was fun. We dipped our toes in the water, took an evening boat ride across the Bay, went on some home tours, and ate. Ate some more. And some more. My favorite eating establishment was a joint that had all-you-can-eat fried shrimp with cocktail sauce. Oh, how decadent and ravishingly romantic. My taste buds were in love.

When we returned a few days later to our meager homes and jobs in Kansas, I was still single, five pounds heavier, but glad to be alive. Alas, no book agents or movie producers came pounding on my door for my divorce recuperation story, but any time Julia Roberts wants to portray The Flaming Bore, I am more than ready to allow her to see if she’s up to the challenge of “humanizing” a normal, ho-hum person. Now, THAT’S the stuff of Academy Awards!