Staycation? Traincation? Mancation? Ervolino winds up with something less appealing

It’s August, and I still haven’t planned any sort of “cation” for 2023 — even as the options continue to multiply: Vacation! Daycation! Broadwaycation!

And dozens more.

How about a graycation — in which you plan a trip with your grandparents?

(Not for me, unfortunately. My last grandparent died in 1977.)

Or, a praycation — in which you take a spiritual journey, like Julia Roberts in “Eat Pray Love?”

Or, a buffetcation — in which you travel around enjoying great food, like Julia Roberts in “Eat Pray Love?”

Or, how about…

(Actually, there is another type of “cation” that refers to lovemaking, but I think my editor would prefer that I not mention it.)

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By this time last year, I had gone up to Maine to see old friends and pig out on lobster tails, lobster rolls and anything else with lobster meat lurking inside of it.

By this time two years ago, I had gone down to Florida to attend a cousin’s wedding in Tampa and see more old friends in Miami, Fort Lauderdale and points south.

As for this year…

Nothing, so far. Although, in the months leading up this cation-less summer, I did contemplate trips to the Carolinas, the Netherlands and Alaska.

But summer is slipping away and I still haven’t finalized anything.

As usual, pals have chimed in: “Maybe you’re just going to have a staycation this year,” my friend Olga said. “Nothing wrong with that.”

Thirteen years ago, my friend Peter suggested a mancation.

At the time, the phrase was new to me.

“A mancation,” he repeated. “You know … a long weekend with a bunch of guys. We drink beer all day. Blow off steam. Act irresponsibly.”

“Isn’t that what we do every weekend?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he replied. “But we do all that here. With a mancation, you do it somewhere else. You get a change of scenery. You push yourself. You do MANLY things. Like hunting. Deep-sea fishing. Or … how about paddling the rapids?”

Yeah, right.

“I’m too old for rapids,” I said. “Couldn’t we paddle through a nice calm brook? Or a pond? I have some friends in Bucks County who have one in their backyard.”

He asked if I had ever gone scuba diving. “It’s on my bucket list,” he said.

“Once again,” I replied, “I’m not crazy about water. I mean, I like being near it, but I’m not into being in it. There’s just too much going on. Sharks. Jellyfish. It’s too dangerous. The last time I tiptoed into the water at Jones Beach, I got hit in the head with a Frisbee.”

“But that’s the whole point of a mancation,” he insisted. “You have to push yourself to your limits. Like the guys in ‘City Slickers’ and ‘Deliverance.’”

I began to laugh.

If any movie sold me on the idea of never leaving my house again, it was “Deliverance.”

I understand the concept, though.

This business about men reclaiming their manhood was a big deal in the ‘70s and again in the ‘90s when books like “Iron John” and “Fire in the Belly” urged us to bond and rediscover our manliness; to be strong but caring; to be spiritual, wise, indomitable and, when necessary, FIERCE — a word that has since become the almost-exclusive property of drag queens and “Project Runway” contestants.

“Honey, those eyebrows look fierce!”

This is the problem nowadays with holding on to your manhood. Just when you think you’ve latched on to something manly, Madonna shows up on TV smoking a cigar, or the cheerleader down the block gets a Humvee from her parents at her Sweet Sixteen party.

And don’t get me started on tattoos. Today, the girl next door has more ink on her arms than the guy across the street. And he’s a Hells Angel.

Recently, a former colleague tried tempting me with the idea of a traincation — in which you travel around exclusively by train.

I read more about this on a blog called hollyrose.eco and was entranced: “Over my month of train travel, I passed valleys lit by pink sunlight which dipped in and out of sight as the train wound through each limestone tunnel. I watched teams of trees sway and dance as we rode past, whipped by the falling rain. And saw towns and cities slide by with ancient railside buildings so intricately carved it was as if each building was its own unique piece of art.”

That sounded amazing. Plus, I loved “Murder on the Orient Express.”

Well, except for the murder.

BUT…

I had just started googling “exotic train trips” when I received a letter from my home insurance company, which recently did a house inspection — by drone.

Long story short: “Entire roof needs to be professionally replaced.”

SERIOUSLY?

My brother tried to comfort me. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You can probably do it for less than $8,000.”

Woo-hoo.

Clearly, the insurance company made up my mind for me.

Roofcation.

This article originally appeared on NorthJersey.com: Vacation or staycation? Sometimes, you can't do either: Ervolino