Flexibility is the Key to Lasting Happiness

Yesterday, I was supposed to go to 6 Flags Discovery Kingdom in Vallejo, CA, for the 4th of July celebrations. We had purchased our tickets a week ago, and were both looking forward to it. What’s not to love? Greasy, yummy food, scary rides, fun games, entertainment packed in. . . .

We got on the road at 3pm - because who wants to be at an amusement park all day when you don’t have kids? The fireworks were scheduled for after 9pm and the park closed at 10. Perfection. On the highway, there was no traffic and we were in heaven.

Until we got to the turnoff for the park, where it was a bumper-to-bumper parking lot.

There were SUVs packed with children all seemingly under the age of 10 (my least favorite, truth be told - I’m in that rarer category as a fan of young teenagers); there were sport cars with the two seats filled with hip couples slathered in sunscreen and wearing stylish straw hats; there were shiny cars with the stereos blasting hip hop so loud that it rattled the car next to them in every direction; there were old beat-ups packed with families. We all snaked our way into the overfilled parking lot, moving at about the same pace as an old lady with a walker crossing the street at a light.

Are you getting the picture? Packed. It was literally packed.

There were people walking who were lapping us as we sat in our car.

We started to get cranky.

“What about those people sneaking off to the right?” Ryan mutters. “Where do you think that goes?”

“How do I know?” I snap back at him. “It’s not like I come here every week.”

A minute later.

“What’s going on over there? This is bullshit!”

Silence. We are three car-lengths from where we started and about a 1000 miles from the good mood we both began our adventure in an hour before.

I stare out the window and at our printed ticket.

“Hey,” I say.

“Yeah?”

“These tickets are good until December 31, 2008.”

We look at each other and our smiles return. Seconds later, we are backing out of the parking lanes and zooming back the way we had come - windows down, hair blowing in the wind, and a newfound feeling of freedom on our side.

“We can go anywhere we want!” Ryan yells.

“I know!” I say and giggle. Then, we decide to go to Napa to have dinner. Why? Because we can.

The moral of this ridiculous story?

The trouble in life, it seems to me, are the expectations we have about the plans that we make. As human beings, we always seem to be planning, dreaming, imagining how great life is going to be once we get there. Then, the real disaster starts when we are so focused on the “getting there” that we don’t even stop to realize that the journey has become utterly MISERABLE. So many people would have stayed (and did) in that parking lot, dooming themselves to bitching about the heat, the crowds, and the lines for all the rides and food. They were so fixated on carrying out “the plan” that they couldn’t see the signs for Napa Valley and the clear highways to get there.

I realized, in the moment that it took us to decide to bail on our plan, that flexibility is the real key to any lasting happiness.

There is a Turkish proverb that I’ve always loved, but never followed (until now):

No matter how far down the wrong path you find yourself, turn around.

This goes for poorly planned trips to 6 flags (we’re going on a weekday soon), as well as the bigger decisions in life. If you are a banker and you realize that you hate your job - find a way to turn around. Trust me. We don’t get any martyr-ships or medals or awards from “staying the course”.

So go ahead. Live a little. Change direction. Don’t do what you said you were going to do. Cancel that dinner with the “friends” you barely like, but feel indebted to, and go to the beach. Write that novel in your spare hour between work, kids and bedtime.

Veer insanely down the paths of life.

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