The Trip

As my anniversary is fast approaching, I recall another anniversary in which we took a large trip. Since we had been married for ten years and we had 3 children under the age of eight, I thought it would be a good idea to get away for a long relaxing vacation and rekindle our romance.

As many of my trips begin at the Dallas/Fort Worth airport, this one was no different. I have not always had the best luck with airport security. Those of you who remember my Breast Milk Episode of ’03 incident can understand. This time the security woman informed me that my lip plumper/gloss could not be taken aboard the plane in my purse. When I flew a month earlier, the lip plumper/gloss was allowed to be carried on in my small clear make up case. No longer, Missy. I needed a Ziploc, which they did not have available. Never mind that the Ziploc was the same size as my clear make up case. I understand the need for airport security and want to be safe while in the air. All people need to be protected from terrorist while traveling. That being said, I know that bitch took my lip plumper/gloss home.

After my husband convinced me to forget the lip plumper/gloss and move on, we were off to the British Virgin Islands for our catamaran cruise. The islands were beautiful, lush, and quiet. I was ecstatic as we climbed on board and met our other guests, our cook, maid, captain, and first mate. I emailed the crew a month or so before our arrival to let them know I would be eating a low fat menu for the week. I did not want to return from my vacation and have to worry about losing weight. They said that would be no problem. We had a wonderful dinner on the ocean and then retired to our cabin. The boat was not air conditioned, but our captain told us all we would need was our hatch open to catch the ocean breezes.

He needed to be a little bit more detailed as we did not know the hatch needed to be open at a certain angle in order to catch the breeze. I have never been so damn hot in all my life. It felt like Guam in that cabin. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to have a good time on this trip. I was in need of a week of huggin’, touchin’, and squeezin’, but this was not how I wanted to end up naked on top of the covers decorated in sweat. Regardless I tried to make a move in the middle of the night since we were both wide awake. Barely did I get the words “wanna mess around?” out of my mouth before I was told, “No. Get off of me you are burning up.” I scoped out our bathroom thinking maybe it would be cooler. Thankfully it was cooler, but it was the size of a phone booth. There wasn’t enough room to flirt in there, much less anything else. Fine. I will just move on to snorkeling.

I am not the best with water. Water and I had issues for many years. We snorkeled over a shipwreck. Snorkeling over a shipwreck is like having a picnic in a graveyard. Our captain told me some people use a mantra to help calm them down while in the water. Repeating the word “serenity” would be a good mantra according to him. Mine was “vodka tonic”. There were also barracudas in the water. Yes, I said barracudas. Our captain told us they are usually very docile, unless they see food. I am usually very docile myself unless I have been on a low fat menu for a week. I would have punched a barracuda in the mouth for a piece of fried chicken.

We did truly have a wonderful time while on the trip. We found the perfect angle for the hatch, and learned how to enter the bathroom without knocking the other person into the closet. We hated to leave the islands, but before we knew it we were at our layover in San Juan. While I have a problem with airport security in DFW, my husband has a problem everywhere else. He always gets his bags inspected. He usually gets pulled out of line to have the wand ran over him. This however did not prepare me for the welcome we received in San Juan. As soon as we received our luggage we were not allowed to follow the other travelers to customs. Oh no, we were asked to step to the side and follow the quasi-military uniformed man. I discreetly asked my husband if he had a secret mission to overthrow Castro or something. This just didn’t seem right. We were sent to the agriculture line, the x-ray line, the line where they physically looked through our bags and then scanned us. I asked my husband, “Do you have a pig in your carry on?” After they thoroughly examined our passports for about an hour and discovered we were not carrying a kilo of smack, we were finally allowed to enter normal security at the gate. I made it through the security point just fine, but looked back only to discover my husband had been whisked away for a formal search.

I am forever grateful I did not say what I wanted to at that moment…”See how the ‘get off of me you are burning up’ line works on him”. I love that man. I really do.