Do you remember that old Southern Comfort ad set on a train?

Prague at Christmas

In December I was talking to a friend of mine about some vows I was writing, and how much I love writing about love – but specific love. Putting the particular way that someone feels about their partner, after the singular journey they have been on together, into words.

This is a friend I have known for almost 20 years. We have seen one another through relationships that were not the kind of relationships they write love songs about (unless you’re Taylor Swift – in which case, where do I listen?).

Anyway, she said something I’ve been replaying in my head over the last few weeks:

“You would not be able to write things like this if you had not experienced a love like your love.”

I think she’s right.

Let me tell you a quick story about that love.

Prague at night

My husband, Joe, and I had decided that, for Christmas, we wouldn’t give each other gifts. We’d give each other experiences, rather. Our loose plan was to go and explore Croatia, although we hadn’t booked anything (and didn’t until the day before we left, but that’s another story).

What did an “experience” constitute, I asked Joe.

“I don’t know, like a beer somewhere cool while we’re exploring a new place,” he said.

Great! I was on board.

It wasn’t long afterwards that he said he’d been doing some research and that things had… escalated. How did I feel about the first five days of our trip being a secret, and him booking the flights?

Good. I felt pretty good about it.

There’s an old Southern Comfort ad that came out when I was in high school. A group of students are running madly through a train station, racing towards a train that’s about to leave. They just slide through closing doors, and collapse laughing onto chairs, pulling out paper cups to toast the journey they almost didn’t make.

“To Prague!” they say.

A departure announcement comes on just then, giving the expected arrival time – in Barcelona.

They all look at each other in silence, eyes wide. Someone raises a cup and says, “To Barcelona!”

This ad completely romanticised travel for me. In a way that’s kind of stuck, even after all the gritty reality of travel (sooo much less glamorous). There’s something about the we’ll-find-the-beauty-no-matter-the-destination of that laughing SoCo cheers that appeals to me. Me: a pretty engrained type-A-let’s-do-it-my-way-please-don’t-change-the-plan-okay? first child.

In a lot of ways, travelling with Joe has been a bit like that ad. Letting go of the old comfort of having a plan locked in. Booking a ticket and leaving the next day – without even knowing the destination sometimes. There’s so much fun in it. And just a liiittle bit of vulnerability in your pocket.

We managed to keep this destination (the part before Croatia) a mystery right up until boarding. I had discovered that the first flight was to Amsterdam, but there was a second flight to… somewhere. I got to the front of the queue and the guy who took the boarding pass I was avoiding looking at like it was the actual sun said, “To Prague?”

“No… to Amsterdam,” Joe said.

“To PRAGUE?” I said.

“To Prague!” Joe admitted.

Prague at Christmas

The next trick was that the flight was full and Joe got surprise-upgraded, which meant we were on opposite ends of the plane – a bit less romantic.

He insisted I take the upgrade. And I wish I could tell you I put up more than the tiniest fight, but I cannot. It was absolutely dreamy.

But here’s the part of this whole story that got me the most. Battling my guilt at the idea of Joe at the back of the plane (not even in a window seat), I went to go and check on him after a couple hours.

I found him eating dinner that was not the three-course meal and cocktails I was offered, in that squished-elbow way of economy.

He was chatting to the lady next to him, telling her about Something True.

Prague at Christmas

P.S. Prague at Christmas was magical. We started Christmas Day with mimosas and smarties in bed. Do you know what’s fun? Slightly tipsy sightseeing in a city that looks like a film set.