Ok, so I just got back from an amazing trip to Punta Cana, Dominican Republic. And I must say that every time I travel there is a tale to tell. This trip is certainly no different. Let me start by saying that I get super stressed out when I travel. Well...I get stressed with the getting there and getting home. The "in the middle part" is generally relaxing and enjoyable. But I digress. Getting to PC was uneventful. However, the arrival was interesting to say the least. I have never felt so much like cattle as I did going through customs upon arrival. Actually it wasn't to bad. Just hot (open air facility in 80 degree weather with hundreds of your closest strangers gets a bit warm). The approximate 1 hour bus ride to the resort was good and check-in at the resort seemed to go smoothly. UNTIL...we went to what we thought was our room to find that, not only did our key card not work, the room was already occupied. OOPS! No biggie. Just a trip back to the front desk to get the proper room and key. We get into our room and the vacation begins (my vacation anyway). Fabulous couple of days. Spent quality time with my honey, hung out with some great friends and saw my sweet husband play two incredible ZBB shows.
Now, let me back up for a moment and say that we have been in a tropical paradise complete with palm trees, sand and sparkling blue ocean. This would have been awesome except for the fact that we both burn so easily that SPF 1000 doesn't keep us from becoming very crispy within minutes. So, even though I love the beach, the sun hates me. It's an ongoing battle or love/hate relationship. However, I couldn't be so close to the ocean and not at least stick in a toe. My dear trooper of a husband walked with me to the beach where he dutifully stood under a palm tree (fully clothed mind you...jeans, t-shirt, tennis shoes) and says to me "go ahead I will wait right here." I literally walked to the water's edge, let a wave wet my feet, took a few pictures and walked back to the shade were my rapidly melting husband stood patiently waiting (I'm fairly certain that I heard his skin sizzling just a little).
On to the departure. The airport was very busy but that's no surprise. We get in line to check-in and check our luggage and end up behind this family that clearly had no idea that they were not the only people traveling. The teenage kids looked completely disgusted, the dad was oblivious and the mom was a control freak. She kept asking questions and chatting with the guy behind the counter. Totally held up the line. As if that wasn't bad enough, it turns out that they were on our flight. Four hours later I discover that the cosmos must hate us because we wound up behind this same family again going through customs in Atlanta. HOW did this happen?!? We had less than an hour to get to our connecting flight and this lady was chatting up the dude checking passports. WHAT?!? At this point, Chris had already been whispering some things in my ear that had me laughing so hard that I was in tears. So when he sees this same family in front of us that had been in front of us leaving PC all he can say is "oh lawd, she gonna chat up the passport dude so much that Homeland Security is going to take her family in the back for complete cavity searches." I was howling!! I'm surprised that I wasn't the one carted away. Those who know me well know that when I get really amused I will laugh to the point of tears. A friend of mine once told me that she had never met anyone who could laugh and sob at the same time.
We made it to our connecting flight just in time. YAY! Made it to Birmingham, got to the luggage carousel and people started to gather to wait for their luggage. In all of my years of people watching there is one thing that remains constant. When waiting for luggage people seem to think if they hover over the conveyor that in some way it makes their bag come quicker or maybe they can will the baggage handler to pull theirs from the plane first. One thing is certain, the people standing so close to the conveyor look like they are staking claim to that little piece of real estate for queen and country and would defend it to the death. And don't you dare try to get around them to get your luggage. So, Chris and I are standing back waiting with grand anticipation for our luggage to appear...and we wait...and we wait. My luggage finally appears. We thought for sure that Chris' luggage would be right out after mine. But no. His luggage decided that it wanted to ride on the flight after ours. At least we know it's on it's way.
There are so many more things I could say/write but it's late and I'm not up for writing the next volume of War and Peace.
Until my next adventure...
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