Two summers ago, I was invited as a plus one on a group hike up Arthur’s Seat, a hill in the middle of Edinburgh. It was for the 40th birthday of a guy named Rob, an old friend of my boyfriend and when we arrived, a crowd of his friends and family had assembled in the parking lot. Various bags of picnic materials were distributed and we began to walk up the switchbacking trail that climbs from the Scottish Parliament to gain panoramic views of the city and beyond. It was an unusually hot, sunny day and soon, elderly family members were understandably beginning to grumble.
“What about here?” one of them would call out to Rob’s longtime girlfriend, who was leading the charge, every couple of minutes. She would shake her head no and keep scurrying forward, inappropriately dressed in a very sweaty-looking yellow raincoat. Finally we arrived at her desired spot, a little shy of the summit, and we had to admit she was right when we got views of the Waters of Leith glittering in the distance.
