A Field Guide By Wendy Stieg, AKA The Manager

Ferragudo Castle, Algarve, Portugal. Photo by Wendy Stieg

"Paul is a very nice person, but he wears the weirdest clothes." — Paul's Mom. She was not wrong. I do not choose his outfits.

Paul is in the Best of Both Worlds Travel Blog. He has always been in this blog. Those of you who have been following along may already know him, and if you do, none of what follows will surprise you. But I feel it is time to properly introduce him, not because there weren't plenty of opportunities before, but because Paul. You will understand what I mean by the end of this.

Let me start with last Sunday morning. At 3 am, our cat Gumdrop woke us up flying around the room: thumping, bumping, growling, ricocheting off furniture with the particular energy that means something is very wrong or very right, depending on whether you are the cat. Paul turned on the light. Gumdrop had a bird. Paul reached under the bed in the way one does at 3 am when one is not fully awake, and the situation clearly calls for someone to take charge. It became apparent very quickly that someone was going to be me. I got under the bed. Gumdrop dashed between our legs, bird in mouth. After several choice words and a broom, we were able to separate the dead bird from Gumdrop. I figured it out, as I genuinely do, but truth be told, Paul did do the gross part and removed the offending dead bird. While Paul was the one who touched the dead bird, he was more upset about the bird being dead than about touching it.

Gumdrop and Velcro. Gumdrop is the one who had the bird. Velcro knew better. Don't let either of them fool you. Photo by Wendy Stieg

This was all before 4 am on Open House day, because we are trying to sell our house in Cortez, Colorado, and move to Montrose, which is a whole other story involving Paul's vision, my tears, and a town that was absolutely about to explode with popularity. It did not explode. We are moving to Montrose. Later that morning, I noticed Paul outside watering the weeds. He had a theory. Wet weeds are easier to pull. I will say this: by the time the Open House happened, there were significantly fewer weeds in the yard. Someone liked what remained. A couple with a baby made an offer. Paul was right, as he had predicted, we had a buyer from that weekend. He usually is.

It has occurred to me, more than once, that I am married to a Unique Soul. Well. Kind of. Because my brother Erik is also a unique soul, but I will get to Erik in a moment. What I can tell you is that the question of what in all that is holy is happening here has circulated in my brain on more adventures than I can count. Because Paul. Let me introduce you properly. According to his mother, may she rest in peace, Paul is a very nice person, but he wears the weirdest clothes. That was her parting wisdom and she was not wrong. Please note that I do not choose his outfits. One of my favorites is an original cowboy shirt with the sleeves cut off because Paul thought it would look better that way. Never mind that it was probably worth something to someone as originally constructed. Paul saw potential. Paul acted on it. The sleeves are gone. We also have multiple pairs of shorts that used to be corduroy pants, cut at varying lengths, because Paul looked at corduroy pants and saw the future. He selects the entire ensemble deliberately and with complete conviction, from the Denver Nuggets hat to the tie-dye water bottle, in Colorado, in Portugal, at an 8th-century Moorish castle in Sintra, it does not matter. Paul commits. This is the man I travel with, who, I might add, is genuinely funny, keeps me laughing, and has a wit beyond match. He refers to me, on his podcast, and to his brother, as The Manager. His brother Mike calls his wife Liz The Manager too. It runs in the family.

Castelo dos Mouros, Sintra, Portugal. Photo by Wendy Stieg

These are the rules the Manager has learned. You might have a Paul in your life, too. In that case, knowing the rules will equip you to travel safely in your life, too.

You're welcome.

My Field Training

I was the oldest of three. Erik, Jennifer, and I. Of the three of us, let's just say Erik always danced to his own tune. And I mean that literally, because he plays guitar in several bands in the Bay Area. He used to have drums. I am glad it is a guitar now.

Erik and I definitely had adventures. I am not new to this rodeo of unique souls. In fact, Erik got me ready for a life with Paul; I just had no idea the field training was happening at the time.

Two very memorable incidents come to mind. When I say this is not my first rodeo, I mean it literally. Erik and I were riding one of our horses, Nicky, when Nicky decided to buck and sent Erik flying. I can't remember exactly what happened after that, but Erik did not spend much time riding Nicky after that particular afternoon.

The second incident involved the last day of summer. School was looming, neither of us was ready for it to end, and someone, and I believe that someone was not me, came up with a plan. The logic was straightforward: if we rubbed poison ivy all over ourselves, we would get a terrible rash and get to stay home another day. We both had to go to school the next morning. I came home early. The rash was intense enough to require a dermatologist. Multiple visits, as it turned out. Erik had no reaction whatsoever.

Preface Rule: If you hike behind the backyard with Erik, someone may have dermatological needs in the very near future. That someone will not be Erik.

The Rules

The following are rules to keep in mind when traveling with someone like Paul. I met Paul 13 years ago, at Pug Ryan’s in Summit County, CO. I was there at the insistence of my friend Sara, who, upon first glance at Paul, was maybe not sure, but she did like something about him. We met and started skiing together, and later developed a relationship. Here we are 13 years later, and I am 13 years wiser about how to travel with Paul. Erik set the stage for my understanding of Unique Souls, and Paul cemented that knowledge.

Rule #1, Documents: Decide who holds what before you leave the house

Paul and I went to see Dead and Company in Cancun. I wrote about that trip in April’s Experience: Going Anyway. One notable feature of that experience was a situation involving Paul's passport. He had briefly handed it to me. I can't remember exactly why, but he has a habit of handing things to me and then forgetting that I have them. I stand there waiting for him to take it back.

Well. In the Cancun airport, after a flight filled with colorful Deadheads and Bloody Marys, I needed a restroom. Upon my return, I was met with a furious Paul, who had not heard me say I was stepping away. The fact that he had handed me the passport in the first place was of no consequence to this conversation.

The Manager took this photo because she knows where the passports are at all times. Photo by Wendy Stieg

Paul loves to say it's all fun and games until someone loses an eye.

If you follow this rule, no one loses an eye.

Rule #2: Install Find My iPhone on Both Phones and Get Cell Phone Insurance

Two incidents formed this double rule. You really can't have one without the other if you want to find your phone. Some people are the reason cell phone companies sell insurance. I am pretty sure unique souls have something to do with that particular product existing.

This rule involves surfing and skiing.

We rented longboards from Used Surf in San Clemente, California, loaded up the rented campervan, and headed to Old Man's. I wrote about this in March’s Experience: A Memoir. Upon our arrival, Paul did the cell phone pat-down. You know the one. When it dawns on you that your phone is no longer with you. I don't know exactly when I had done it, but I had already followed part of Rule #2 at this point. I looked at Find My iPhone, and there it was, still in San Clemente. A quick phone call to Used Surf confirmed they had it and would hold it until we returned the boards.

Do this first.

A few years back, we were skiing at Beaver Creek on a powder day. I vividly remember Paul taking his phone out of his jacket pocket. Why? I do not know. I am not his mother. Paul does Paul. Hours later, riding the gondola back to Avon after a great day, Paul did the manic cell phone pat-down. A few choice words later, and we concluded that the phone was in all likelihood buried deep in fresh powder somewhere on the mountain.

No phones were harmed while skiing at Telluride. Photo by Wendy Stieg

Find My iPhone does not work with a wet phone buried in fresh powder. It also has to have charged phones. More on phone charging in a later article.

Hence, the phone insurance.

Think ahead and follow this rule. You will thank yourself later when that phone ends up somewhere other than with your husband.

Rule #3: Seriously Consider Who Should Do the Driving When Going to See Shows

We love live music. Follow us anywhere on social media, and you will know this instantly. Our adventures going to various shows over the years mean I have logged a lot of hours in Paul's passenger seat. Let's just say that the fake brake on the passenger side and the oh-shit bar above the window get a workout. I still take this rule into serious consideration. Paul drives snowplows for a living and is, in fact, a very good driver. But certain situations bring out a whole other Paul.

Our friend Mike can attest to this. Mike met us some years back in San Diego, where we did some surfing and saw Dead and Company. We were driving to the show when the San Diego traffic had a strange effect on Paul. Suddenly, Intense Paul came out. The driving shifted to a considerably more aggressive tone. After that experience, Mike took over driving for the rest of the weekend. Mike will not ride with Paul.

Another show, this time Dark Star Orchestra. Our friend Laurie had organized a field trip, complete with a limo, where a large group of us went to see Dark Star at 10 Mile Music Hall. It was wonderful. Laurie, Paul, and I later decided to meet Mike and other friends in Denver to see Dark Star at the Mission Ballroom. Paul drove. I didn't notice anything particularly notable, but Laurie won't ride in the car when Paul is driving. Maybe I am desensitized at this point. But not really.

Paul, Wendy and Laurie. No driving took place in Boulder this particular weekend. Photo by Wendy Stieg

Perhaps my favorite and most notable memory involves the Grateful Dead Fare Thee Well Tour, two nights in Santa Clara. My brother Erik lives in Petaluma with his lovely wife, Ericka, and their two children. Ericka knows. Ericka knows that in the Unique Soul department, Erik is worse. I will say nothing further on this matter.

So there we were in Petaluma, relaxed and not paying attention, when it suddenly became apparent that time was running out. There were still children to drop off for the weekend, tickets to pick up, and gas to get before we could make it from Petaluma to Santa Clara. Erik looked at Paul and said, "We'll make it, but we are going to have to drive really fast."

I saw something twitch in Paul.

I now know that twitch. It means Challenge Accepted.

I had no idea what I was about to experience. Ericka knew.

We drove at breakneck speeds through the Bay Area. Not once did Erik lose Paul. I vaguely remember making eye contact with Ericka at a traffic light.

Yes. Ericka knows.

Follow this rule, and no one loses an eye. Or a kidney.

Rule #4: Be the Manager, and Be Afraid

Sometimes you have to pay more attention to things going on around you. This is especially true when you are with a Unique Soul. You might wonder why Paul refers to me as The Manager. I have an answer for that. Because Paul.

This rule evolved over the years, but perhaps the most telling situation was when Paul and I were with Professor Bob in St. Louis. We were at a Joe Russo's Almost Dead show and had the time of our lives. Professor Bob was his usual charming self, and between him and Paul, I don't think I stopped laughing all night. After the show, we ended up at the bar for a little while. Then it was discovered that the night was coming to an end. I called an Uber.

We went outside and stood on the sidewalk. Up pulled a small car. Paul and Professor Bob, all 6'4" of him, climbed into the back of said small car. It took me all of thirty seconds to realize that this was not our Uber. A father was driving. A mother with a baby was in the front seat. This was of no consequence to Paul and Professor Bob. The last thing I shouted was, "HEY! NOT an Uber!"

What happened next remains somewhat of a mystery. Maybe the father was prepared to give us a ride back to the hotel? I genuinely do not know. What I do know is that if you don't keep your eye on your Unique Soul, they might just end up happily settled in a stranger's car with a baby.

We have had other Uber adventures, but this one takes the cake.

Note: No babies were injured in any way during the events described above.

Follow this rule, and you will make it back to your hotel. That and be the Manager.

Rule #5: Mind Your Conjugation

We had a lovely drive through Andalusia, Spain. Of course, it was not entirely incident-free; we did end up with a flat tire, which I wrote about in January’s Muse: Staying Oriented in a Noisy World. But perhaps the more memorable occasion during this particular leg of the trip was when we stopped in a small Andalusian town after crossing the Guadiana River from Portugal.

We pulled into town and took our chances at a local restaurant. Setting the stage: this Manager speaks conversational Spanish. My Spanish is far from perfect, but it got us through Spain and almost through lunch.

Completely unbothered in Andalusia. For now. Photo by Wendy Stieg

The wine was ordered. The beer was ordered. The fish was ordered, all while beautifully navigating the Spanish menu. The lovely Andalusian server suggested a salad to complement our meal. Of course, we wanted salad. A couple of pescatarians from Colorado never say no to a salad.

The food arrived. I did not fully realize how much we had ordered. They really want you to eat well in Andalusia. Everything came out at once, but curiously, the salad was the last thing to be delivered.

Paul immediately noticed something on top of the salad. "Do you think it might be tuna?" he asked. I looked carefully.

It was not tuna.

It was chicken.

Once I announced this, Paul was horrified. He eats fish but no other animals. After all of my careful conjugation of Spanish verbs, I had forgotten to ask what was on the salad. If this were a movie, the Psycho theme would have been playing in the background as Paul registered the presence of the offending chicken.

The meal I ordered entirely in Spanish. The chicken on the salad was not intentional. You can see it if you look. Photo by Wendy Stieg

I am pretty sure the waitress made an executive decision. Paul is skinny. She was perhaps doing him a favor by adding extra protein. Here were two mostly-vegetarians in ham central. At least it was chicken.

I think.

Follow this rule, and you can remain a pescatarian.

Back to Cats, Birds, and Chocolate Labs

When I met Paul at Pug Ryan's thirteen years ago, I had no idea I was getting on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. Truth be told, I wouldn't change a thing.

This brings me back to the present. We moved to Cortez because Paul had a vision. He believed this area was going to gain in popularity to the point of a significant population explosion. It is not a far-out idea, but the fact is, we are more than eight hours from Denver and five hours from anywhere else. The jobs were scarce, and the population boom did not arrive, at least not during our time here.

We are moving to Montrose. Paul already has a job there, and now we wait. We wait for the house to sell and for the perfect time to start looking for the next one.

When I think about Paul watering weeds, filling hummingbird feeders, rescuing kittens in a Leadville cemetery, going the extra length for an old chocolate lab, and his enormous passion for all things sports, I realize I wouldn't have it any other way. Some of our experiences defy logic. But where would we be without them? I am far better at finding cell phones now than I ever imagined I would need to be before meeting Paul. All joking aside, he is a wonderful traveling companion. I just never know what might happen next. But between Paul and his Manager, things eventually work out.

Another philosophy I have embraced is Mel Robbins' idea of Let Them. It is brilliant. Let them. Let them wear orange shorts, a tie-dye muscle shirt, flip flops with socks, and a Denver Nuggets hat in Portugal. Let them get into not-Ubers containing babies. Let them drive through the Bay Area at breakneck speed.

One thing is for sure.

It's never boring.

Besides, when traveling with Paul, what could possibly go wrong?

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