I'm not sure I'll ever see them again

My parental units did something today I thought they'd never do, and definitely not before me.

So, this morning they were leavin' on a jet plane for Rome, Palermo and every other Italian or Sicilian city ending with an A, I or O in between. And I couldn't be happier for them. They've never shied away from seeing or experiencing things, but until today they've kept their aimless treks to North and Central America.

The units are crashing the boot, God help 'em - the Italian citizens that is.

I missed out on the study abroad semesters in school (believe me, I studied many a-broads, but that's something different), and aside from a 5-day jaunt to Costa Rica, I kept feet firmly planted on U.S. soil. Not by choice ... I take that back, it was by choice, my wallet's choice.

Once I finished working on my BA in beertology - a minor in mix drinkonomics - I told myself I'd wander across Europe. From London to Amsterdam, Rome to Paris, I'd see it all, do it all and experience it all. I'd sell my car, throw all my worldly possesions (which were comprised of a dresser I had since I was 8 and saggy twin bed that saw about as much action as a constipated dude's toilet) into storage - i.e. the parental units' house - and wander from hill to dell seeing the continent. It was a great dream. The Eurail would be my friend, and time would be on my side because my trip would be open-ended. If I wanted to hang in Barcelona for an extra week I would, and if I was chased from Zurich's streets for sleeping with the mayor's virgin daughter, well there were plenty of other villages, cities and forested streams that would take me.

Now I'm the last one in my immediate family to cross the pond. My lil' sis has done it twice, and now the units. I always thought myself to be the adventurer in the family. I had the wings and I was ready to fly to every corner of this giant ball. Then, a couple of things happened: 1) Money, or the lack thereof; 2) the units retired giving them more free time than God. Couple those together, and that leaves me as the shut-in hunkered down with everything I need within a five-mile radius. Meanwhile, the units were driving through the g-spots of the country, and up its bung-hole, too (El Paso, Texas, anyone?).

Wife and I have tried over the years, though. Puerta Vallarta; Lake Tahoe; Yosemite; Butte, Montana; but ultimately it's Italy we want to see. The culture, the history, the nude beaches along the Mediteranean coast; it's all within our sights one day. Maybe we'll do it like my parental units - wait until the freeloaders are gone and then waste their inheritance on a plush room at a 5-star resort where the wait-staff make sure your every need is met.

"Need the toe poop cleaned out between your toes, sir?"

"Why yes, it does Maria. Thank you," I say while Carlotta shifts slightly with the sun and continues fanning me with palm fronds.

"Does the signora wish for another bottle of Sangria?"

"Really, Mario, you don't need to ask, just keep 'em coming. We're not paying for it anyway, our kids' future is," Wife says while Antonio rubs her feet and cracks her toes.

And then we laugh in unison. Just as my parental units are doing right now, I'm sure, while polishing off their sixth bottle of wine.