Could you be Batman?
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I’ve been trying to figure: what makes Batman, Batman? Is it the mask, the cape, the endless assortment of tools attached to his utility belt? Nah. A singular factor sets him apart, enabling him to do the things he does: Batman doesn’t have kids!
I’m friends with a guy whose team made it to the World Cup Finals. Over lunch the other day, the thought struck him: ‘I should go.’ After getting the okay from his significant other, he checked flight availability then booked a ticket to Rio in time to catch the final match. I’m still in awe.
Now, I’m not the jealous type, especially over what another man is willing to spend purely for his own entertainment. I’m not envious of the freedom his lifestyle affords. If I had the means to spare, I’d likely be as cavalier. Still, the feat warrants closer examination from the perspective of us mere mortals, whose day-to-day obligations have a tighter hold on us.
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Let’s review the logistics. The final match is two days off, situated a mere 5000 miles away. Batman consults his utility belt. He so happens to hold a foreign passport. This waives the need to apply for a travel visa whose delay in processing would undoubtedly render the journey futile. Our Batman is well heeled (principally as the result of his own years of study and hard work — he’s no trust fund slacker). Airfare purchased spur of the moment still merits consideration. After all, the airlines thrive on this sort of impulse buy. Being well traveled, Batman is able to score a roundtrip ticket in exchange for a scant tonnage in frequent flyer miles plus the necessary processing fees. It hardly makes a dent in the balance he has on hand.
Okay, I think. He’s there, but how’s he going to get in to see the match. It’s Rio, he tells me. Worst case, he’ll watch the match beachside surrounded by arguably some of the world’s most enthusiastic soccer fans. He’s thought of everything. A unique opportunity presented itself and he seized the moment. And, no one can accuse him of behaving at all irresponsibly. A roof is secure over his head, his cupboards are full. And he’s going to the World Cup Finals to boot.
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I resort to tallying what the trip would cost me, cost for us mere mortals measured in different terms. The airfare alone would set me back a semester’s worth of dance or voice lessons or some other extracurricular activity in which the kids are involved. I check my frequent flyer account balance. Not shabby, but nowhere close to getting to Rio and back without at least a few weeks advance purchase. Plus I’d have no way around those delays with the visa application. Hotel, meals plus a ticket to the match could easily pay for one set of braces, maybe two sets. I contemplate the excuse I might invoke, my significant other’s arms folded across her chest as I argue how leaving the girls danceless, voiceless, and in desperate need of orthodontia will add character.
I abandoned the exercise, the lore of Batman looming a bit larger ahead of me on my drive home that afternoon. At the time of this writing, we don’t know which team claimed the World Cup Title. All we know for certain is that Batman was there, his utility belt affixed securely around his waist. It’s the trip of a lifetime. Meanwhile, I sit home with my girls, hear about their day, the plans they have for the remainder of the summer. I’d trade a metal-mouth smile from each of them for first class accommodations at the World Cup plus a seat alongside the pitch. In their eyes, I can be Batman too.
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Photo credit: Kevin Dooley/flickr