I don’t wish you a safe trip

I drove my girl­friend to the air­port this morn­ing. After I took her bag out of the car and put it on the curb, we stood there and ex­changed good­byes, and every­thing you can imag­ine comes with those.

But I didn’t tell her to “have a safe trip.” Why not?

Because I don’t hate her.

If you re­al­ly care for someone’s hap­pi­ness, is “a safe trip” re­al­ly what you want for them? I mean, they al­ready know you hope they don’t get harmed… be­cause they know you don’t hate them. Every time you as­pire to safe­ty on some­one else’s be­half — wish­ing them a safe trip, or flight, or hol­i­day week­end, or what­ev­er they’re about to em­bark on — ”the ter­ror­ists” (or whomev­er) have won.

So if I like you, in­stead of a safe trip…

  • I hope you’ll have an amaz­ing trip.
  • I hope your trip is unforgettable.
  • I hope you ex­pe­ri­ence new things on your trip.
  • I hope your trip changes your perspective.
  • I hope your trip makes you smile many times.
  • I hope there are nu­mer­ous pho­to op­por­tu­ni­ties on your trip.
  • I hope that, if you’re in­to that sort of thing, your trip takes you out of your com­fort zone just enough to be remarkable.

And so on.

(Important ex­cep­tion: I’m think­ing that if you’re someone’s moth­er, you get a free pass, be­cause your wish is more than just words — it’s a re­minder to not do any­thing stu­pid. And you’re hard­wired to be­lieve that, when our of your sight, your kid is con­stant­ly do­ing stu­pid things. But you should re­al­ly con­sid­er try­ing some­thing from the list above.)

So what did I wish my girl­friend this morning?

Um… I can’t re­mem­ber. It was re­al­ly early.