“You Should Really Know What You’re Doing Next Time”: A How-Not-To Guide to Adventuring

I’m not a planner. It’s both a blessing and a curse.

Blessing, because I’m always flexible. I just get an idea and do it. Right then.

Curse, because Taylor isn’t a planner either, so we infuriate everyone trying to plan around us.

It wasn’t until this week I realized that “everyone” also includes our firstborn.

It’s Spring Break here in Texas and – shocker – we didn’t plan anything ahead of time, so 4 days ago I decided we’d go on adventures around the city each day.

Sunday we adventured into Petco where we accidentally bought a hamster.

Beckett thought we’d have a better shot of Taylor being okay with our impulse purchase if we named it something he liked, so her name is Taco Bueno, Taco for short.

Monday we adventured to the new Crayola Experience factory.

The younger Brooks boys had a blast; Beckett bided time until we could go back home to check on Taco.

Tuesday we adventured to the historic Fort Worth Stockyards via the new commuter train.

Because I’m not a planner, I briefly checked the train schedule, but figured we could wing it once we got to the station. We had all day, after all. It would be great!

We arrived with about 10 minutes to spare before the next train.

I was so proud of our luck and my adventurous spirit until Beckett read the marquee on the other side of the train tracks. “WB TRAIN ARRIVING IN 2 MIN” he read aloud.

“Wait, what? Westbound??” I replied. “Oh shoot oh shoot everybody grab hands and run run run. We have to cross to the other side quickly!”

We made it with seconds to spare. I laughed as we boarded the train. Beckett did not.

“Hey, bud. Are you okay? Did that make you kind of nervous?” I asked.

“Yeah.” he said. “Why don’t you know what you’re doing??!?”

“Eh, it’s fine. This is an adventure!” I replied.

“I still wish you knew what you were doing.” he muttered.

As the train arrived at our stop, I heard mention over the loudspeaker of the bus routes to get to the Stockyards. I didn’t realize we’d have to catch a bus, too, but the unexpected is half the fun of adventuring, right?

Luckily, the #14 bus was already waiting at the station when we arrived. We hopped on and I handed the lady my card to buy tickets. “4 please!” I smiled, proud of my big-city-commuting skills. (I was showing Beckett how confident and capable I was, even as a non-planner.)

“We only take cash.” the driver said.

“No problem!” I replied, still smiling. “I have $5! How much is it?”

“Well, your ticket alone is $5.”

Smile faltering slightly, “Ok! Um. Is there, uh, an ATM?”

She looks from me to the boys back to me with a mixture of irritation and pity. “Just come on. I’ll give you a ride.”

I thanked her profusely (while dropping a “I’d die in NYC.” public transportation joke for good measure).

On the bus, the boys and I talked about what we would eat for breakfast once we got downtown. We were all starving, so our plan was to grab a bite before the famous Stockyards Cattle Drive at 11:30.

At our stop, the driver said, “Now when it’s time to return, you’ll just hop on the number 12 bus. Runs every 30 minutes.”

“Sounds great. Thanks again!” I yelled over my shoulder, on my way to find food.

Turns out nothing is open at 9:30am on a weekday in the Fort Worth Stockyards.

Also, sudden, torrential downpour. (A planner would’ve checked the forecast.)

Nervous Nancy Beckett started asking what my plan was and why there were no restaurants around. I told him, “It’s fiiine! We’re on an adventure!”

We popped inside a historic hotel where I casually asked the concierge for directions. “Hello, we’re on an adventure (*whispers* that I possibly miscalculated/underplanned). Could you tell us where the closest breakfast place is?” I asked.

“Well, the only one around is ours, right here in the hotel.” he replied.

“Ah, yes. That’s what I meant!” I said, loud enough for Beckett to hear. “A table for 4 in your dining nook please, kind sir!”

I caught a 7 year old’s muffled “You totally didn’t know they had food here.” as the concierge led the way.

Over breakfast, I could tell Beckett was still uneasy without an exact schedule – especially a return travel plan – so we talked about the worst case scenario of our adventure day.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” I asked.

“We miss the bus.” he said.

“Ok. And then what?”

“We miss the next one.”

“Then what would we do?”

“We could call Daddy. But what if he lost his phone?”

“Ooo didn’t think of that.” I conceded. “If that happened, we could call the police.”

“What if the police station exploded?”

“Then….” I thought. “Then we’d get an Uber to our car.”

“What if the Uber was actually a bad guy who had stolen a ca—”

I kept assuring him that we were in our own city and that we didn’t need to be scared. “If we were in actual danger of not making it home, I would have had a more concrete plan. We’re fine, man. I promise.”

We finished breakfast, explored the Stockyards, and watched the cattle drive. Fun was had al—pretty much just the 4 of us, actually, since no other humans wanted to walk around in the pouring rain.

After exploring to our hearts’ content, we decided it was time to head back home. We found the bus stop where our #12 bus would come and sat down to wait. I checked the return train schedule – we had a little over an hour to catch the 12:38pm.

Several minutes came and went with no bus. Then several more.

For 55 minutes, as we huddled along a building in downtown Fort Worth, soaking wet in the freezing rain, the bus did. not. come.

I called Taylor at work. “The bus isn’t coming, so we’re just going to walk to the station.” I said, as I led everyone through a major intersection. “It’s a little over a mile and—actually this is a terrible idea. Can you Uber with carseats? How do I get an Uber for kids? Does Favor deliver people, too, or just food and other things?? Can you Favor us back to my car?!?!”

At the very moment I started to panic we might not actually make it home from downtown, we see a city bus on the horizon. Squinting, we could barely make out the numbers 1 and 2. “IT’S OUR BUS!!!” Beckett yelled. “IT’S THE NUMBER 12 BUS!!!”

“We’ve got to go, babe.” I said into the phone. “We’re comin home!”

Sprinting through the streets, elbowing our way through the 3 other tourists out that day, we flagged the bus down. We must have looked as harried as we felt, because as I started to fish out my wallet to buy tickets (with my newfound ATM cash) the driver said, “Just get on.”

I checked the time again. “WE WERE SO CLOSE, YOU GUYS. This bus will get us to the station at 12:40, exactly 2 minutes after our train departs. We’ll have to catch the next one in an hour.”

Beckett stared at me, unimpressed.

me: “Okay, remember when we went through those worst case scenarios earlier? So, some of them came true. But we’re still alive aren’t we?”

him:

We pulled up to the station, peeled ourselves out of the warm, dry bus, and as we started walking to buy return train tickets, we saw lights coming down the tracks.

“Wait a minute….” I got the attention of a police officer standing nearby. “Excuse me, but do you know which direction this train is headed?”

“East.”

“Are you sure??”

“Yes, ma’am. This is the 12:38. It’s just a few minutes late.”

“THIS IS OUR TRAIN!!!” I started yelling, as it pulled up. “THIS IS OUR TRAIN!!!! IT WAS LATE!!!! IT’S A MIRACLE!!!!”

“Don’t forget you have to buy tickets!” the officer said, interrupting our cheers.

“I’LL BUY THEM LATER!” I yelled over my shoulder, herding everyone on anyway.

She smiled, shrugged, and walked off.

As we sat on the train digesting the last 3 hours, I started laughing. “And THAT, you guys, is called an adventure. I told you it would all work out, Beck.”

“Don’t ever do that again.” he replied, the tiniest hint of smirk on his lips.