Well, sort of. My sea legs are finally planted on firm ground. Unfortunately, that ground is the filthy carpet at the airport as we await our fight out of Florida. That same flight which will only get us as far as Chicago and we won’t arrive home until well after midnight. After almost 13 hours of travel. Frequent flyer miles are good for a lot of things but not direct flights.
And so I thought I’d post now due to the inevitable craziness of our return into the Real World: Denver. Where the snow is deep and the kids and I are still sick. Where those days of blissfully sunning myself in the tropics will only be a distant memory. Oh wait. They never existed. OK, the good ol’ days of sunburns and heat rashes will be a thing of the past. This is me we’re talking about.
Our cruise was fantastic and I will expound upon it later when I can carve out some time to download accompanying photos. I am pleased to report the only dancing that occurred (of the Conga) was completely voluntary and done under the influence of ice water that had likely been spiked.
Our plan today upon debarkation was to rent a car with Ivan and Karla and hit the beach before our flight. Sound foolproof and fun? We thought so. Until we discovered Miami is hosting a little event some of you may have heard of called THE SUPERBOWL. And that we had to mortgage our house in order to rent a crappy Taurus that barely fit all our crap. At least Ivan was a good sport about being strapped to the roof.
We headed up to Fort Lauderdale with the intention of hanging out on the boardwalk, grabbing some food and soaking in the rays. Yeah, right. One would think the beach and the boardwalk would not be difficult to find but they (not we, of course) got lost. Oh, and did I mention it was down pouring and cool the entire time? When we finally did stumble upon the boardwalk, we only had time to stuff our faces (after getting an are-you-insane look when we tried to order hot chocolate) before darting off the airport where we’ve been waiting ever since.
I knew the only thing that would get me through the next several hours would be a good book, something I’m not often able to indulge in. As I poured over the selection at the airport, Hunky Hubby stood disinterestedly nearby. Even though he was bored, I knew I couldn’t tempt him. The reason being his prolific response earlier in the trip when I asked him if he wanted to buy some reading materials.
“It’s not that I don’t like books, Amber. It’s just that I don’t like reading them.”
It should be a long trip home.
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 