Disclaimer: This prompt sucksssss! I feel like it has a lot of potential but I’m so tired I can’t see straight. I think, however, I shall revise this at a later time… I’m confident I can make this a decent story.
Day 4 —Write a story/excerpt to include the line, “Sorry, we can’t insure you for a journey like that.”
I just wanted to travel. Literally, JUST travel. I had years of money saved from odd-end and dead end jobs, bussing tables, stocking shelves; things I, as a high school drop out, could do for minimum wage and nothing more. I worked as much as possible; the only thing getting me through the long days and nights being the thought of traveling. I had spent those long nights doing repetitive tasks and dreaming of the day that I could escape. My whole life had been an escape; I had never felt content anywhere and, always, the need to escape. I wanted to find a place I could call home. But in order to do that, I needed to see everything and experience everything. It had started out as an idea while wiping the old, brown coffee stains off of the same table for what felt like the hundredth time that day, and it had grown into a well-organized, well-researched plan. I had finally saved enough money to go around the world. It had taken years of living in poverty, but if I could pull this off, if I could prove everyone wrong, it would have all been worth the sacrifices.
I went to the travel agencies with my plan. “You want to travel? Okay, great! Where do you want to go? Oh, you want to hitchhike? Oh, you want to be free to go and come as you please? You want to live off of the land and essentially backpack over the world? Sorry, but we can’t insure you for a journey like that. You’ll have to search elsewhere.” It seemed a futile task. No one wanted to assist in my travels; no one had any dreams left to dream. No one wanted to take the chance. I was a liability; a silly little girl with silly little dreams.
It wasn’t until I met a man that I would call my savior. He saw me sitting outside of the motel I was sitting at; my luggage to one side and a map in my hands. He asked where I was going. I said everywhere. He asked me for clarification. I obliged.
I told him my story; my dreams and aspirations. He sat quietly, listening, nodding and making the appropriate gestures. I told him of my troubles. I wasn’t sure he was actually listening. I wanted to believe he cared, but I had trouble believing anyone would. Once I finished, he sat up, rubbed his neck, sighed, and said, “Well, I do believe that we can insure that type of journey.”
I sat, mouth agape. He chuckled and told me his story. He was the retired founder of one of the largest travel agencies in the world. His roster bolstered billionaires, playboys, royalty, philanthropists. “Let me talk to my people. They’ll give you the insurance you need so long as you stay in contact and tell me about your travels. I was young once too, you know. I had similar dreams and no one cared to listen. It took a very courageous man to take a chance on me and I vowed to someday pay back the favor. Now child, tell me where you want to go first.”
And with that, he stood up, and I did as well, and I told him of the first country of my route, as we walked side by side, down the city street, an old, almost self-made man and a silly little girl; both with amazingly impossible dreams,