Sleepless In The Bahamas
Believe it or not, the Bahamas are not warm in December. Okay, if you compared it to say, Michigan, Maine or Montana in December, the Bahamas would be downright toasty. But I’m comparing the Bahamas in December to the Bahamas in June (which I assume is warmer).
If it’s not warm enough to wear a bathing suit, it’s too cold. Normally, this fact wouldn’t bother me one bit. But after one spends a wad of hard-earned cash on a cruise to the Bahamas, the least they could do is provide a bit of warmth when you get there.
At least the water was as blue as the commercials say. I was slightly mollified. It was as if they were saying “You can look, but don’t you dare fling your body into it!”
Wandering around a foreign country with my mom and my daughter was an eye-opening experience. My mother, being the oldest, certainly should have been the wisest. All I can say is that if she ever travels abroad on her own, I will have to attach a homing device to her bra. The lady couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag, bless her heart. It is a good thing that these were islands we were visiting. You could only go so far in the wrong direction before you hit water and had to turn around.
I finally decided that taking directions from my mom was like listening to fashion advice from my color-blind sons.
After we found the beach and discovered that it was too cold to swim, we decided that the only way we would be able to wear our bathing suits was to use the steam room onboard the ship. Every evening we’d stuff ourselves silly in the dining room. Then we’d put on our bathing suits and the complimentary bathrobes stashed in our cabin, and shuffle up to the steam room. There, we’d baste ourselves like a Thanksgiving turkey. It felt so good that I was sure it wasn’t healthy for you. But I didn’t care because it made me sleep like a baby.
The hardest thing about sleeping in close quarters is that there is always that one person that doesn’t sleep properly. They snore, sleepwalk, sleeptalk, or have insomnia or a weak bladder.
My oldest son once slept in the room across the hall from a friend who had night terrors. After hearing an ear-piercing scream, my son spent the rest of the night crouched in a closet clutching a baseball bat.
We had no night terror issues, but, on the third night of our cruise, Mom woke me out of a very sound, steam bath-induced sleep.
“Hmph…huh?” I wasn’t sure where I was or what I heard. She didn’t answer.
Just as I was dozing off again, “Laura!”
“What?” I asked irritated.
Again, she didn’t answer. I punched my pillow and went back to sleep. A few minutes later:
Startled again, I asked, “What do you want?” She didn’t answer.
For the love of Pete! I thought. This ship had better be sinking the next time she calls me or, so help me, I’m throwing her overboard!
I love my mom, but when I am deprived of sleep, I start thinking evil thoughts.
The next morning my daughter asked why Grandma was calling me last night. “Grandma” looked surprised.
She looked straight into my tired, blood-shot eyes and said, “I didn’t call anybody… did I?”