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| Category: General Experiences |
Date published: August 13, 2005 |
 Except for a few highlights, I would call it "a vacation from hell." I don't travel much, and until this vacation, had never been outside of the United States. Thanks to an invitation from a Time-share Company, my husband and I were headed to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, and then to the Bahamas. I was so excited.
"Take along your suit and tie," I said to my husband before leaving home. "If there are Broadway type shows on the Island, I'd like to go, and I want to dress up." As you may guess, I didn't get out much. To pass the time, I brought along a nearly finished afghan to work on as we drove.
The first leg of the trip was to visit the Time-share property. It was one block from the ocean, included a yacht available to owners for fishing trips and excursions. Each unit had every amenity you could ask for and it could be ours for one week a year. We purchased the time-share and in the morning, we were off to the Bahamas. While my husband placed our suitcases into the trunk of the car, I placed the bag containing my afghan down by the wheel so he could put it in there, also, and climbed into the car.
This was our first cruise. We were told the trip would be brief, four and a half-hours maximum to reach the Bahamas. My husband took his movie camera and began to shoot the ocean waves. Within half an hour at sea, my husband was sicker than a dog. He plopped himself down on the floor of the ship and stayed there.
I was left to do my own thing, eat alone, watch a movie alone, walk along the ship's deck...alone. Oh, yes, so far it was "a hoot of an experience." Note the sarcasm. The hours passed, the floor of the ship was covered with bodies, all suffering from seasickness; my husband had plenty of company. I continued to explore, bored. Now and then I'd check on my poor, sick husband. He'd groan and say nothing.
"Boy! This trip is taking long," I said to a woman in the diner.
"We've not moved for two hours," she said, "mechanical problems."
"Oh, great, JUST great!"
I continued to make my rounds of the ship, passed the slot machines, but ignored. I'd already seen the movie, didn't want to do that again. I sat for a while and watched people play in the pool. I don't swim, don't wear bathing suits any more, not since my body turned from marvelous to disgusting. Seven and a half-hour later, we finally reached the island. My husband was "good for nothing for the rest of the evening." His head hurt, his stomach remained upset, and all he wanted to do is lie on the bed and sleep. Our first day was SHOT, one and a half to go.
We woke up early. My husband was over his seasickness and willing to explore the island. I asked if we could check out any shows that might be playing that night. He agreed. We learned there was a performance that night in the very hotel we were staying, what awesome luck. We purchased the tickets, not cheap, and in addition, bought tickets to visit a flower garden early that afternoon.
The water was blue, the sky was clear, and I was breathing in the warm air of the Bahamas. I felt alive. I thought of the beautiful Time-share we had just purchased and my excitement escalated, life couldn't have felt better.
While waiting for the bus that would take us to the gardens, we met a couple from Tennessee and ended up spending the entire afternoon with them. The gardens were beautiful, exotic flowers were blooming everywhere, a very enjoyable day.
It was evening and my husband and I began to dress for our special evening out. I put on the new dress I purchased, it didn't make me look "good," not in my own eyes, but I looked "pretty good." My husband was looking handsome, dressed in his dark gray suit. After rummaging through his suitcase asked, "Where are my shoes?"
"You packed them in a bag and put them in the trunk, didn't you take them?" Right then I knew, we both knew, the shoes were STILL in the trunk. My husband removed his suit Jacket. "What are you doing!" I exclaimed.
"I can't go without shoes."
"You can wear your tennis shoes," I said in a desperate voice. My husband gave me a look. The kind that told me he wasn't about to wear his worn tennis shoes with his suit. Just then, a light bulb went on in my head. "That nice couple from Tennessee, maybe Jack has a pair of dress shoes your size."
"Are you crazy, I'm not borrowing a stranger's shoes," my husband said, and removed his dress pants.
"They're not strangers...not anymore," I said, and rushed out of our room and down the hall to the room I knew our new "friends" were staying in.
The look on my husband's face was priceless when I reentered our hotel room with a pair of size ten dress shoes in hand. Reluctant, embarrassed to wear the borrowed shoes, but knowing he was beat, my husband dressed back into his suit and slipped on Jack's shiny black shoes.
The show began. Soloists sang and comedian's performed their acts. We were having a great time. Men, dressed in tails and black hats, came dancing onto the stage. They weren't alone, with them were women, pretty women, dressed like playboy bunnies, their legs, long and shapely. Oh, crap, and then I saw them, the three with the bare bosoms, perky little vamps. I thought of my own ship- wrecked body and wanted to flee, wanted to cover up my husband's eyes. A few of the girls came down from the stage. Luckily, they were the ones with fabric sparsely covering up half their breasts and not the ones whose breasts were bare. One of the girls, the back of her costume, nearly a G-string, bent to speak to a couple seated behind my husband's chair. Her firm, round, and nearly bare buttocks were shining in my direction. I leaned toward my husband and whispered, menacingly, "You turn around and you're a dead man!"
My husband was especially "frisky" that night. I wanted to rip out his brains, remove the images I knew were stored up there. "Dang those shoes!"
It was late afternoon on Sunday. Time to return to the ship. I suggested we take a seat in the large auditorium on the lower level with the hope my husband wouldn't become seasick again. We ordered two soda pops and sat down. After a while, the room was full and the entertainment about to begin.
The ship began to rock. Lightly at first, and than violently. Back and forth, rocked and rolled. Glasses fell from off the shelves and crashed to the floor. Band instruments that stood on the stage, including a large drum set, slid from one side of the stage to the other. The ship tipped to the left and then to the right. Passengers, attempting to walk, were thrown about. They held helplessly to poles and some fell to the floor.
The comedian standing on stage attempted to make light of the situation by joking. "Welcome to the Poseidon Adventure, starring you the passengers," he said, and as he spoke, his body was thrown from one side of the stage to the other. Like the passengers who attempted to walk, he grasped a pole for support. Some passengers were crying, and others appeared to be in prayer. By now, I don't believe a single glass remained on the shelves. I wondered about the expensive bottles of perfume available for sale, as well as the many bottles of liquor, had they, too, smashed to the floor? We were on an old Panamanian ship, we were told, one without baffles to prevent the rocking of the ship. I must be crazy, but I wasn't afraid. We were forbidden to go up on the deck, but if we hadn't been, I would have loved to witness the waves I knew must be tremendous.
At long last, and in one piece, we reached the parking lot where our car waited to take us home. "Will you get my afghan?" I asked, as my husband placed our suitcases into the trunk of the car.
"What afghan? Only my shoes are in here."
Whoever found the unfinished afghan, the one my husband didn't see resting beside the wheel of our car, I hope he or she knew how to crochet.
There's no place like home, but if you travel, DON'T FORGET YOUR SHOES.
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In My Own Words: Out-of-the-Ordinary Experiences
