Vacation, Day 1

Saturday afternoon, we pile in the car. Resolved. Resolved to put the packing process behind us. We are going to forget S carrying a VERY expensive camera case around. We are going to forget about how he dumped out my purse and hid my credit & ID cards. We are going to forget how we asked E to help and all he could do was whine. The vacation has begun. THIS IS FUN.
We are on the road. We decline S’s kind offer to share his music class CD. I can’t take it. He offers to sing a collection of his favorite TV shows’ greatest hits. Terrific. Wonder Pets save the Triceratops. “Pushy in the tushy. Pushy in the tushy…”(only S can’t say “sh,” he says pus and tus). “Thank you, dear. That is lovely. Oh, yes. I’m so glad you’re adding a rhythm to it. The dance remix. Super.”
We’ve gone 8 miles.
We get to the ferry line 10 minutes before the ferry departs. I am so pleased with my timing. I am so pleased that I am taking my family on this adventure instead of just driving to the beach. We park in the first available slot, #55. The sign says “ferry holds 18 vehicles.” I do the math. We’re completely screwed. A suped up pick-up is in front of us. Black, roll bar, over-size nubby tires. Two guys inside with I.Q.s less than retarded dolphins. One guy is sitting on the ledge of his window, underwear hanging out, no shirt, no shoes, Miller Lite cap, cigarette dangling from his mouth (already filled with chewing tobacco), angry stretch marks mapping his overweight torso. He’s drinking beer as his buddy sits in the truck listening to pounding music. He’s cursing and rude. He gets on the next ferry. We do not. At least our surroundings improve. The ice cream truck drives by. This guy has world’s easiest job. 65 cars lined up in a row, hot, bored, and miserable. The kids get some unnaturally colored Popsicle-type product. S has day-glo blue all over his face, shirt, hands, legs. E drops his off the stick into the grass. We all got problems, kid.
Two hours later…HOORAY! We are on the ferry. The breeze is refreshing. S loves it. E doesn’t really. I am deflated about my idea to bring the kids on the ferry. Should have taken the flippin’ bridge.
We unpack the car. The groceries I bought are dragged up 3 flights of stairs. S has done his best Lord of the Dance impression on the 2 loaves of bread I bought. They are about an inch and a half tall now. We open the door and through a narrow hallway, I see it. Majestic movie music swells in my ears. I stumble, seeing nothing but the light at the end of the hallway. I emerge on to the balcony, TRIUMPHANT. Our condo is front and center to the beach. The view is magnificent. The journey is forgotten. Our family vacation begins. I have arrived. Now, where’d we put the booze?