I hate that feeling

...but I suppose I'd better get used to it. I've had it before and I'll have it again. It stings, though. Smartly.

You know that feeling you get when people you know are doing something really cool but you can't go along with them because of your job or your family and you get to watch from afar as they have the time of their lives?

Yeah, that's the one. That's what I've got right now.

A couple of my friends from Canada and the U.S. have signed up for the Mongol Rally.

Don't know what the Mongol Rally is?

I'll tell you what the Mongol Rally is.

It's this:

                                                                                                                    from The Life of Adventure

...a 6,000 mile race across Europe and Asia, hosted by the Adventurists, a Britain-based adventure club and charitable organization.

Here's the idea: you start in London, sometime in July. You buy a piece-of-crap car with a 1000-cubic-centimeter-or-less engine. You, and as many friends as you can pack into this pathetic machine, drive said pathetic machine from London to Ulaanbaatar, the capital of Mongolia.

The team name is up to you. The car's paint scheme is up to you. The car itself is up to you. The equipment and supplies are up to you. The route and timing are up to you. All you have to do is acquire a conveyance and get it and yourselves to Mongolia before August is over.

The point, as you might have guessed, is the journey. Voyage of exploration, connecting with buddies, reaching deep inside yourself for survival (and mechanical) skills, challenging the raw forces of nature and all that hogwash.

Sounds lovely. Just the kind of quest I would like to undertake.

But I can't. June 2013 would be midway through my second year's contract. I could re-up in February for just a few more months, but then Miss H would have to find a new apartment. It's in my name. I would also have to go home and restart the whole finding-a-job-in-Korea-and-getting-the-requisite-documents nightmare that I've already delineated to you.

It's just not possible. I can't do it.

So off my friends go, doing this amazing thing without me.

It's not a fun feeling.

Ah well. I was never one for sour grapes. (I see what you did there, Aesop.)

Good luck, Mr. E and Mr. S. I wish you the best of luck. I hope you have the time of your lives and I'm behind you all the way. Send me some pictures and bring back some weird-ass souvenirs.

And I hope scraping up the requisite $8,000 for entry fees, charitable donations, vehicles, gas, food and airline tickets doesn't take too long.

Bah. Suddenly I feel like some cheese...and wine.