Cruising for a Bruising

Happy New Year, Devoted Readers!  I hope you all had a festive holiday season.  On this, the 11th day of Christmas, I am giving you a glimpse of my family's recent vacation to the Caribbean.  (I know; I shouldn't have.)  What I should do is disclaim this post by saying that we really did have a lovely time overall, but this post must serve to demonstrate the moments in which I did not think Herr Travel Planner Extraordinaire, Mr. Christopher Lund, should be allowed to plan shore excursions unsupervised.

On the first day of Christmas, my parents, my in-laws, and the three of us all convened in Orlando, Florida to celebrate the birth of Christ by eating prime steaks, medium-rare, before driving in a comically large transport van to Port Canaveral to meet our cruise ship.  This process resulted in the first bruise of the trip, as my derriere slammed into a seat belt buckle when Christopher's foot slid off the brake as I attempted to close the sliding side door in the Ruth's Chris parking lot.  Luckily, the restaurant provided me some USDA Prime ice in a plastic bag for my Grade A rump roast, and I was merely tenderized for the next day or so.

We had a lovely first two days at sea in the Taurus Suite of the Norwegian Spirit, whereupon my husband attempted to both eat and drink his way through the unlimited dining and beverage packages that were included as incentives.  Eliana learned about rubbish, as all of the trash receptacles were labeled "rubbish bin," and I learned to dry my hair with a reverse vacuum wand that lost most of its heat through its connection hose and was branded the "WANDHAARTROCKNER." 

This, plus the lack of conditioner on board made for some classic hairstyles.

Our first port was Costa Maya, Mexico.  Upon disembarking, I was told that we would get a cab into the town, which was about two or three miles away.  Having been to this port before, and knowing that we would be in and out of shops, I did not slather myself in sunscreen-- FOLLY.  My adventurous spouse decided that it would be "fun" to ride a street legal golf cart (read: no UV protection for this fair child) those two or three miles to town over the course of three hours.  We did have fun.  We did fear for our lives when going over make-shift rope speed bumps at speeds in excess of what is reasonable (guess who was driving).  We did see amusing road signs.  We did get Eliana a tropical smoothie served in a pineapple. 

We did make my left arm medium-rare, but just below the sleeve line.  I am now an exotic striped creature of unknown origin.

Our Chariot

On the day when some might receive five golden rings, I received "Turtles and Stingrays Land and Sea Adventure" in Grand Cayman.  Things started off well, with a knowledgeable tour guide who literally drove us to Hell, which if you are wondering, is a burnt-looking rock formation and a general store.  Turns out Hell was better than what awaited me in the middle of the sea. 

Hell, Part One

After we tasted rum cake and played with sea turtles at a turtle refuge,

A happier time...although these turtles do slap

I soon realized that the whole day had been a ploy to desensitize me to what was to come-- swimming on a sand bar in the middle of the sea with deadly stingrays.  Now, if you have known me for any length of time, or are married to me, you would know that this is pretty much my worst-case scenario.  This activity promised no fewer than eight of my peeves/anxieties:  1) Public appearance in a swimsuit,  2) Photography of self in a swimsuit, 3) Close proximity to deadly creatures, 4) Being barefoot on unknown surfaces, 5) Tourists who don't listen to safety warnings, 6) Swimming in unknown water depths while unpredictable things also swim around, 7) Limited access to reliable public restroom facilities, 8) A large cooler of artificially-flavored fruit punch that is irresistible to a seven-year old.

This drink really extends her gums.

 It took a while for our boat to find a spot on the sandbar that was adequate for us to sit and allow us to climb down (anxiety 9) rickety metal ladders) into the water.  We had been told that the rays would come to us when the calamari was put out for them.  (Rays are like Mario Batali in this way.) I soon learned that my primal fear smells like Italy's favorite appetizer.  I had rays swimming near my legs, stroking like barbed kitty cats of watery death, try as I might to swim away from them.  All I needed to do was get to my family.  They were tens of yards away, and those rays just kept circling. 


Once I reached my group, the guide thrust the enormous ray into my outstretched arms.  No one else seemed to hear him when he asked for someone to take the beast.  I have always been too obedient for my own good.  The photographer took some truly unflattering shots of us, but I am never ever doing this again, so we, of course, bought them to document the horror.

The sheer terror is evident behind my sunglasses.

Still smiling; thanks, Stanislavski

Once the pictures were finished, I swam back to the boat, giving a tiny share of concern for my child, who was swimming for her life because the three cups of Red #40 were catching up with her bladder.  It was then that we learned that the restrooms were out of service, as the British children on deck were writhing in pain.  I sent Eliana back to the water to give the rays something to remember her by, but despite my mother-in-law's best efforts, she would not find relief in the water.  Ah, memories to last a lifetime.

We made it back to town in time to catch the last tender back to the ship.  The friendly staff loaded the ficus trees, tables, and people's rum purchases before allowing us to board the tender.  That, my friends, is the power of inclusive gratuity.

Yes, this day was one I won't soon forget.  In that way, Travel Planner Man has done his job well.  Without his grand scheme, I would never know that the Caymanian sand feels like plush carpet underfoot as you scramble away from certain death.  I still wanted to bruise his backside with a seat belt, though.  Little did I know that the next day, in Jamaica, we were set to climb rock faces to a waterfall, another Kelley-friendly activity to be sure...