Four Tickets to Paradise

So, this is paradise.

That was my thought twelve years ago when we went to Cancun with friends. In our late thirties at the time, Doug and I promised we wouldn't let our passports expire. Never! We were gonna travel the world! But then, you know... life. We discovered quickly it was much easier to travel domestically with kids. So, now, with the kids nearly grown, we decided to return to that beautiful place where rum flows like water. Good water, not from Mexico.

The adventure really began in the airport. Before going through security, I asked Cole (several times) if he had any liquids in his bag. "No! No! Of course not." Then he got that questioning look on his face. "Wait. Is toothpaste a liquid?" We chuckled and assured him he would be fine. I was actually impressed he remembered toothpaste. Then we went through, shoes off, electronics and bags in the trays, and waited for our stuff. Cole's duffle bag was being held back. We watched as Mr. TSA pulled out a full bottle of shampoo. Then a full bottle of body wash. Cole tried to explain to Mr. TSA, "Oh, those are really old." Yeah. The argument didn't hold so well. TSA guy tossed the bottles, with a sly smirk on his face. Well, at least Cole wasn't paged over the loud speaker to retrieve his boarding pass that was found on the ground. This time.

Alex's screening wasn't exactly smooth either. She began to tell me the story. Not having seen our daughter for nearly two months, I was struck how her sweet, rosy cheeks reminded me of her innocent toddler days. She continued her story. As it turned out, she was asked if she was wearing any metal in (ahem) a delicate, bra-line area. Her mother told her that no good would come of that type of piercing. But it did bring us a good laugh.

They grow up so fast.

waves crashing

Then the adventure continued.

I discovered quickly that the trick to mastering Zumba is to perform the sexy dance moves in water. I was actually quite good. Well, I felt like I was quite good. My confidence was quickly dismantled during a heated game of keep-away in which I pulled my Achilles. I had to drop out. I slunk back to my beach chair and read with the other moms while the other fathers played with their kids in the pool.

Not only did I excel in Zumba, but I clearly mastered the art of sunscreen... unlike the rest of my family. While Doug might be a pro in the game of keep-away, he's challenged in the area of sunscreen. In his defense, the sun in Iowa isn't nearly as powerful as the sun in the Yukatan. Hardly ever the self-conscious type, he was very concerned by the streaky burn on his chest. I assured and assured and assured him that it didn't look bad. Then some old lady came up to him and said, "My God! Don't you know how to apply sunscreen?" Doug laughed politely and said, "Yeah, I missed a few areas." Then, she disgustedly replied, "Well, I guess so."

But old, crabby ladies couldn't possibly ruin the vacation at the luxurious Dreams resort. (Shout out to Four Seasons Travel!) We dressed up every night to enjoy fancy food at fancy restaurants. We ate squids and snails. We listened to great live music. We took a cocktail class where we didn't learn a thing, but thoroughly enjoyed seven beautifully-poured shots with names like "Shit in the Grass." We played beach volleyball in which we middle-aged parents beat our athletic kids as pretty twenty-somethings watched in amusement. We took periodic breaks from the sun after discovering the "Core Zone." We played endless games of ping pong in which Cole clearly dominated much to his father's dismay. We played pool in which Doug clearly dominated much to his own delight. We eventually got kicked out of the gaming area, not realizing the Core Zone was only for ages 13-17. But just wait. We'd show them...

On the night before our departure, the resort held a Family Trivia Night. I insisted. As we poured into the theater, my family quickly observed the number of really young families with really young kids. So, I double-checked with the staff. "Was this event for all ages?" Absolutely. So, I grabbed the clicker and instructed the Kramfam to take seats. The game began and it was quickly evident that our ages had some advantages. Halfway through, they flashed the scores. We were slaying it. A little embarrassed, I leaned over to Doug and asked if he wanted to leave. "Screw it. Let's take it to them." Always the competitor. After 25 questions, the game ended. We had a feeling we had kept our lead up, but we had missed a few toward the end. So, we'd have to wait. However, you see, it wasn't just a simple announcement of the winner. It was a ceremony. The emcee built excitement by announcing third place winners first. A sweet little girl came up to get their family's prize. Then the second place winners were announced. Another sweet little girl came up to get their family's prize, at which point Alex skedaddled to the bathroom which was bullocks because she answered most of the questions! Then... it came. The announcement. Team Kramer had won. No one in my family would go on stage. I had to do it. Like moms do. So I sheepishly walked to the stage to collect a plethora of gifts. Maracas. A pouch. A key chain. A t-shirt. A bracelet. A pretty painting from a handicapped artist. I did end up giving most of the gifts away to kids in the audience. Except the painting. Dammit. We earned that.

Getting home was another story. Without belaboring it, we missed a connecting flight in Houston and had to stay over another night. It was a long 24 hours, but we finally made it back to Omaha. We were following a group of men that we had seen clear back at the beginning of our journey from Mexico.We were all tired. A bit delirious. Suddenly, I hear a loud "PPPPPPHST." Did that man really just break wind on us? Or, to be more accurate, did he just drop an atomic bomb? I didn't trust my hearing by that time. But I did trust my sense of smell. I looked at Doug. He looked at me. We tried like hell not to laugh. The poor guy was probably exhausted as well. Or maybe he just got really comfortable with us by that time.

So, despite the hiccups at the end of our travels, it was a top five vacation. I'll admit I was a little sad to leave. I guess that's the thing about paradise. It doesn't ever get old.

We dressed up every night. There seems to be no evidence. All beach/pool photos.