Some of my friends call me a sun goddess. I love to bask in its warmth, catching the golden hue that is emitted from its rays. Imagine my jubilation last Friday when I realized my vacation from work had begun and in two days, I would be bikini-claden and once again lying in a place I feel as though I belong. Feet in sand; hair tossing in the wind; a slight smile on my lips and a good drink in my hand. That was what my forthcoming week promised to hold.
However, sometimes life throws you lemons. Lemons so stark that you just sit and look at them in amusement. It’s at this point that I feel instead of even making lemonade, these lemons are just too sour to do so. Instead, I throw them out.
Vacation, needless to say, was not what was promised. I was not lying on a beach in the Outer Banks sipping on espresso-infused vodka made from scratch. I did not get to cook for a house full of boys all week, either. Instead, our plans completely changed—and possibly for the better.
By Sunday afternoon we decided to go off and do our own thing—just the two of us. We drove out to Chincoteague, an Island on the northern coastline of Virginia. It’s about a three and a half hour drive. After getting there, checking into our campsite (yes, we camped the entire time), we decided to go and grab dinner on the shoreline somewhere. We stumbled upon the Chincoteague Inn. It was here that we found the locals were not city folk by any means whatsoever. In fact, you could almost call them rednecks, and that’s saying a lot, coming from a girl who lived six years in West Virginia. The music was loud. The service was slooooowwww and the food was mostly all fried. The bikers were spilling beer down their jean pockets, the women were missing more than their fair share of teeth, and the beer bellies were stocked full that evening. The mosquitoes were no laughing matter either. After a rather frustrating evening out, we headed back to the campsite. Should you venture to this place for an evening dinner, I suggest eating indoors. It was much nicer inside and a hundred times cleaner. But alas, hindsight is always twenty-twenty, isn’t it? Upon arrival at the campsite, we set up our hammocks, cleaned up for bed and relaxed while reading our books by night light.
That night was some of the worst sleep I had gotten in a long time. Not only were the bugs unforgiving in their quest to venture onto my skin in my hammock, but we were also right next to a waterfowl park. Yes, you heard me right. Birds. And lots of them. So many, in fact, I was wondering when (or if) they were ever going to shut up. It was almost as if they were sitting right next to us, wailing and honking next to us. Then the colicky baby started. While I know this is a hard thing for babies, and most certainly not something they can easily overcome, the crying got to me. It was after midnight, and I just wanted to sleep. Once the baby started to cry (and they were obviously tent campers, not RV’ers), the dogs started to bark. This went on for hours. Finally, I was able to drift off to sleep . . . only to be awakened a few short hours later to the sun glaring in my face and the rednecks next to us talking loudly and slamming things around to get packed up.
However, once the sun hit my face and we got up and got the coffee I needed to survive the day, I realized once my feet were in the sand at the beach that my problems would fade away . . .
To be continued . . .
