A territorial fight over hush puppies was one of the better moments of this trip.
It’s not surprising that I survived the worst trip ever. What is shocking is that I became a travel writer after the worst trip ever rather than running howling into my home, never to emerge again, except for necessities such as M&Ms, Cherry Garcia yogurt and the occasional Chick-Fil-A sandwich.
While details of the many lovely trips I’ve had since may have become a little fuzzy and are remembered through a sunscreened, Margarita-induced haze, every moment of this trip is etched in painful pinpricks in my brain.
For the sake of space and my ever-doubtful hold on sanity, I won’t share all those details. I’ll just relive it in an abbreviated way, how I would have told it if we’d had text messages back then.
Day 1: Island gorgeous, food awesome. Catherine 8 2 much at buffet, threw up massively in various shades of pink in back seat.
Day 3: Lft island paradise. Car died, needs transmission. Stuck at Bates-like hotel, playing dot-to-dot with cigarette burns on bedspread. Read the full post »