Opinion: Vacation stress, Part II
Commentary by Danielle Wilson
For the second leg of my 2017 Summery Vacay Series, I spent a week on the Carolina coast with my family. We were 25 people ranging in age from 1 to 75, sharing a single house with untrustworthy toilets and a kitchen sink literally too small to wash dishes.
In retrospect, the trip went about as smooth as possible. My two “party” sisters kept it in check this year, and because we traveled in June, the normally oppressive heat wasn’t a factor. But you can’t put that many souls together without a few snafus, although there was nothing as exciting as my 2015 accidental attempt to OD my brother-in-law with Advil that was actually Ambien. Sorry!
For starters, someone sabotaged the rib dinner my twin and I made on Monday. After two hours of supposed cooking, we discovered the oven had been turned off. Needless to say, that meat did not fall right off the bone. And of course, most of us are pasty-white gingers who have no business being in the sun, let alone on a beach begging for “just a little color.” No blistering or vomiting, but we did have a few aloe-requiring burns.
The most fascinating “failure” of the trip came while we were all on our way home. Somewhere in Kentucky the first of many text messages pinged: “House worst condition cleaning crew has seen. Security deposit forfeited. No re-rental.” This was incredibly surprising because we hadn’t broken or damaged anything and had emptied the fridge and done the dishes. True, we did leave two toilets clogged (remember the sub-par plumbing?), but in our defense, there were no plungers! Attorney Sister . . . Activate!
On deck for Summer Vacay is Dance Nationals in Sandusky. Pray for me.