Vacationing with Kim's Family

After a short hiatus, I was once again a traveling man. This time for "pleasure".

The plans for this dream family vacation were slow to get out of the gates, but enthusiasm can be contagious, and before long, my brother-in-law, Tony was e-mailing me a Jet Blue itinerary. The idea was to take my Mother-in-law, Carol, away for a warm holiday. Together, Tony and my wife, selected the Bahamas as our destination. At first Carol balked, but soon she joined Kim and Tony’s girlfriend Krystal in the blitzkrieg diet and exercise routine which ordinarily portends any vacation involving bathing suits of course.

As the next few weeks passed, Tony, Krystal and I began planning events like Jet Skiing and Scuba Diving, which, as we all know, are probably the number one and number two most popular Senior Citizen holiday activities. I’m pretty certain Carol will join us for the cliff diving too… after all, how much of a splash can a slimmed down version of my mother-in-law make?

The trip got off to an exciting and unexpected start. Tony arranged for a limo to take us to Logan Airport, and we all gathered at her Mom’s house to await its arrival. We surmised that, given the size of our party and the number of suitcases required to cover three women for four days, we’d need a van with the displacement of the Maersk Alabama. Instead, a gleaming stretch Hummer drew around the corner and pulled to a stop in front of the house. Squeals of child-like delight exploded from our party and my proximity to Tony garnered me a few unearned, but welcome hugs. Gotta Love Italian Families!

After a quick stop at Carol’s workplace, to show off the limo and her doting children, we turned toward Logan. We were naturally curious about our ride’s amenities and clicked or flipped every switch within reach. At one point, we decided to test the TV. There was a phone that was a direct line to our chauffeur, Lee. I picked up this Bat-phone and asked him if the TV was working. Lee replied, “Sorry, but the cable just pulled out!” I wonder how many times he’s used that line.

Everything went smoothly at the airport, and we spent about an hour touring Terminal C, while staying close to the doors so that certain smokers in our party could get their fill. Eventually, we made our way to the gate and boarded, expecting to occupy the entire row 18. Unfortunately, we found a couple of young women sitting in 18C and 18F. Somehow Carol and her boyfriend Peter were assigned seats further aft in Row 24. I always believe in the whole "making lemonade" thing, so I asked the Flight Attendant refused to explain to my Mother-In-Law that First Class is in the back of the plane. He refused, and so everyone froze in place and chatted on and on about what to do. The queue up the fuselage started to back up like a busload of Senior Citizens at the Christmas Tree Shop the day after social security checks arrive. Finally, the two ladies relented and offered to move… ostensibly to be nice, but I bet they simply wanted to get as far away from us as possible.

Aloft, we learned that the only non-functioning headrest TV’s on the entire plane happened to be ones facing Krystal, Kim and me. The slightly effeminate Flight Attendant explained that this inconvenience had earned us free drinks. The ladies quickly ordered up two Vodka and Cranberry Juices, while across the way, I caught Carol trying to sabotage the wire connections to her own screen. The overly attentive flight attendant may not have been as gay as I thought, because he frequently paused to offer the girls additional nips.

A few hours later we landed in Nassau and Kim was tickled to get her virgin passport stamped, or perhaps this was simply the vodka settling in. From there, we took a ten minute taxi ride to the Sheraton Resort at Cable Beach which lightened my wallet by $36. There seems to be a horrible shortage of shock absorbers on New Providence Island as each bump in the road loosened my fillings and threatened to dump us out of our seats.

Check in placed us all on the second floor, one down from the lobby. I was a little worried that we were in the basement, but Carol & Pete’s room had a lovely view of the pool and ocean front. A bit further on, Tony & Krystal’s pad had an equally good perspective. Only then, did Kim and I realize that our room was the only one with an odd number. Sure enough, we opened the door and peered at the façade of a building right next to the hotel with several piles of building materials filling the gap in between. Just freakin’ lovely!

We spent the rest of the afternoon jumping in the ocean for a swim, and exploring our new digs a bit. The water was all wrong though. First of all the color’s off. Whoever heard of teal seawater? As I plunged into the surf I was stunned not to feel my skin shock chilled as if immersed in liquid nitrogen as proper ocean water like what you find off of Cape Cod. It was… well… warm! In fact, by comparison, the air was a bit bracing.

Later, we gathered in the lobby to debate where to eat. The Café was deemed too expensive of a buffet, the Italian restaurant menu proved to be even more startling priced. We asked a bell hop for his suggestion of an inexpensive place to eat, located nearby. He quickly offered up the “Fish Fry” and summoned a cab for us. The woman driving the van handed a fin over to our restaurant advisor and we all piled in. About five minutes later we were unceremoniously deposited in a square of small ramshackle pubs and diners. Our van driver led us into the Fish Fry and spoke to the guy running the bar. My guess is that she bribes the hotel guys to get her fares and then, in turn, gets a kick back from the establishments wherever she delivers the unwary tourists. This short ride cost another $40 but dislodged several kidney stones.

It took thirty minutes for the staff to deliver our complicated drink order consisting of four bottles of water, a bottle of beer and a can of cranberry juice. My guess is that they couldn’t afford the taxi ride to a convenience store to pick up our drinks and had to walk. The meal took even longer. Despite Pete haranguing every waitress in the place, our plates didn’t make an appearance for over an hour. In total, we took up residence at the Fish Fry for about three hours. It took longer to consume dinner, than it did for us to fly to the Bahamas. Had I known, I’d have ordered ahead while Carol and Pete re-dosed with nicotine outside Logan’s Terminal C that morning.

We pooled our money to rent another bone-crunching ride back to the hotel and resolved to learn the bus system on the morrow.