Stress Relief

It was so loud that the real noise, from several rooms away, easily drowned out the softer crackling version that was replicated through the dusty baby-monitor. "Are you happy now!" It wasn’t a question, it was an accusation.

****

Twenty minutes later, everyone had been fed other than the humans and coffee was brewed. The dogs were both outside whining to be let in, but neither Harold nor Marylyn paid any attention to it at all.

"Is it Wednesday yet?" Harold asked, knowing already that it was Saturday. But he asked anyway. It was a plea for sympathy.

"Just a few days off, dear. I still can’t believe it, though. I mean, what better luck could we ask for?" both eyes turned towards the envelope on the kitchen table, and both sets of lungs sighed with the anticipation of the marvelous month that awaited them.

The letter had arrived nearly seven weeks earlier, and was almost discarded offhand along with several catalogs and about forty credit card applications. But there was so much junk mail that entered the lives of Harold and his wife that there simply wasn’t time to give it too much thought, and all the mail—junk and all—was set aside until the following weekend. When Harold had finally found a moment of peace during which to sort through the bills, he opened the letter and read it. It was a form letter, and exclaimed happily, in bulk, to him and probably a million other homeowners.

CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED TO PARTIPATE IN A STRESS RELIEF PROGRAM! ENJOY A MONTH IN PARADISE AND LEARN THE SECRETS OF RELAXATION!

The intimacy of such a letter was too staggering for even Harold’s well-exercised sense of sarcasm, and so he read on.

The program, funded by the American Institute for Relaxation (A.I.R.), had randomly selected Harold and his lovely wife from a group of qualified households to participate in an experiment. The experiment would benefit the AIR institute’s research greatly and would help millions of Americans learn how to better enjoy their lives in the process. In return, Harold and his wife would spend the month on a cruise ship that would take them to the five most relaxing resorts and spas in the world (as ranked by an independent tourism board that was in no way affiliated with A.I.R).

"Sounds like bunk," thought Harold, but due to some unidentified compulsion he called the toll-free number nonetheless. The cruise departed on the Wednesday of the coming week, and there would be a limo waiting for them early that morning. It was only an hour’s drive to Boston harbor, where the cruise ship was waiting. They were told that while most cruises departed from Florida, Boston was fine for this trip: they were not immediately destined for the Caribbean, and in any case it was the most convenient departure point for Harold and Marylyn—the only two people selected for the cruise. When questioned about this, the institute answered smartly that any experiment—even ones to do with the ultimate capacity for stress relief—was best performed in small controlled environments. The cruise ship was not one of the huge ocean liners, either, but rather a smaller luxury yacht that would be able to make the journey quickly and safely to the five ports of call—some of which were too remote, secluded, or just plain shallow to be reached by a larger ship.

Harold checked with the Better Business Bureau, but was told that the American Institute for Relaxation was a non-profit government organization that due to some bureaucratic or political loophole was outside of their jurisdiction.