Fine... Honesty blah blah

So I guess I have to finally share some stories from the cruise...

I have been putting off writing too much about the cruise because I have this annoying little habit I blame on my parents of being all honest and stuff. It is highly over-rated, especially when I have to admit that I am not as cool as I like to think that I am. But, let's go with a chronological story fest from the cruise... Forced honesty will likely bubble to the surface towards the end.

I don't think I am going to bother trying to keep things brief. I like rambling on and on and on. If you hate reading people ramble on an on and on, you are likely already a little annoyed and I am surprisingly ok with that.

If you scroll past this crazy long post you will see a few pictures, Angelas blog has some good ones also.

You may need to take a lunch break, or a nap, to be able to read all of this... good luck.

I found out as the boat was pulling off the dock in Tampa that things were not going well back in Lehi. My poor Co-coach was left to deal with the ballroom team all on her own. We have been getting our big competition pieces ready all year long. Nationals is this coming week, but while I was gone they went to our first competition in Idaho. There was some teenager being a teenager that was causing some issues. I felt bad that I wasn't there to help. As we pulled out of the canal of Tampa my phone battery was starting to go dead and I knew that I didn't want to incur international charges, so I intentionally turned off the phone, put it in our cabin and didn't recharge it. I didn't trust myself.

I've only been on one other cruise, and everything felt perfect. SO it made sense that I was going to be comparing the two different experiences. Now, don't get me wrong, I have very little interest in the gums of a gifted horse. We were away from work and school and snow on a big fancy boat and a big chunk of the cost was averted, so I know when to be grateful. However, I must say, Royal Caribbean will trump a Carnival cruise every time.

One of the highlights of the cruise was on that first day. We had been trying to get Greydon's hair cut before we left, but could never make our schedules work. So we took him to the on ship salon and they did a great job. They fawned all over him. They were all single young ladies from all over the world playing and talking to him the entire time. It was so fun.

We met our server the first night, a really nice guy from Bolivia named, well pronounced, Lubo. He would always bring multiple dishes of things that looked good, so that was fun. The cruise director and her staff on this cruise were amazingly bad at their jobs. They all seemed grumpy all of the time. But again, it's hard to remain disappointed for too long when you can walk up on deck nine, get a free ice cream cone and watch the water almost notice your passing.

Our first stop was supposed to be Grand Cayman. We were going to go back to see the Stingrays again just so Greydon could see them. The weather was bad enough that the port master didn't think it was safe to take the required little tenders from the big boat across the bay into the docks. So, we missed that and had an extra day on the boat.

Our first stop ending up being Cozumel, Mexico in the middle of a huge rainstorm. By the time this day was over I was looking around corners and underneath anything that could be concealing a hidden camera. Belize was to be my first salt water scuba dive. This is what I had been waiting for all along.

I got my dive bag all packed up, put on my swim shirt and a t-shirt over it, since it is designed to be a little tight, and headed off down the dock. I met up with the tour guide company amidst a drizzle and ugly skies. I asked them if this weather was going to permit us to go ahead and take the dive. I knew we had to board a small boat to go out to the dive site. They said, oh sure, this was just a little cloudy, no problem. We walked over to the tax stand and the three of us who showed up loaded into the van to head off to the dive shop.

Ten minutes later "cloudy" was pelinting off of the windshield as our death defying taxi driver tried to set a new land speed record through big roads, little roads, paths, and driveways. We ended up at a resort out of which the dive shop operated.

We got out the van and were pointed down a brick driveway in the general direction of a number of small buildings. I had cloudy now running into my eyes and was walking through puddle of clouds that were ankle deep already. The tour company works with more than just the cruise lines, so there were some other guests under a small awning next to the counter of the outside dive shop standing around. We were told to go around the back of the building, to get our gear. THe gear seemed in pretty good shape, but there were no ceilings or roofs anywhere. I was soaked to the bone. It was honestly just pouring. I kept wiping my forehead off as the water streamed into my eyes, trying to see where I was going.

As I made it back to the counter were other potential divers huddled I glanced down the rocky meandering path that eventually ended abruptly at a small dock which housed a pitching and rolling.. skiff?... skow?.. the honor of "boat" just seems to grandiose of a title. There was a 5x5 sheet of blue tarp elevated over one end that was certainly not going to offer any protection from the elements, "cloudy or not". I stood there wearing my back pack of gear, holding my dive vest in one hand and the regulator in the other as my hair product leaked into and burned my eyes with my t-shirt just plaster to my body and water pouring off of the bottom of said t-shirt, shorts, nose, anything that had a bottom for something to run off and thought to myself "really?" I think I mumbled something close to "Welcome to paradise."

The other two divers, more experience older guys, had already made their way towards the boat, and being inexperienced I was guessing I should do the same, though this didn't feel right, or fun for that matter. That's when I heard the dive masters talking to the guests of some surrounding hotels rescheduling their dive, tellin gthem it would be miserable to dive that day and no one would want to dive in this kind of weather. That's when I turned away from the rocky path leading to the pontoon of doom and asked to be taken back to the ship.

They passed me off to one guy who informed me that it was still pretty underwater, but he was pretty nice about it, I think he had a hard time sounding that convincing. They walked me back to the front gates of the compound and we started waiting for a taxi again. There was no point trying to find shelter, I couldn't get any wetter, even if I had actually dove. The first cab, another van, left without me saying there was only one of me and he didn't want to get his seats wet. Another 15 minutes later two taxi cabs came revving and zooming into view. The old chevy suburban cab driven by a very angry older woman intentionally skidded in first to block the path of the newer minivan cab driven by the incredulous 20 something year old. I don't speak their language, but some things transcend language barrier. She was chewing him out driving forward and backward across the driveway not letting him in. After he drove away she rolled up her window ,yelled into her radio for awhile, ignoring the two staff members from the hotel who went to talk to her, and then zoomed off, without me.

The employees just shrugged not knowing what that was all about, and we started waiting again.

Another employee came by carrying some money bags and gave the guy working the front booth a huge roll of cash... and then shlumped away down the gravel drive.

Another minivan cab came up eventually, and as the hotel employee gave him a twenty and told him which pier to take me to, I glanced around for the hidden cameras before getting into the back.

There was one point where the minivan took a turn down a surprisingly small and unkept road and I thought to myself, great... my mother was right, I'm going to be mugged and dumped. But it was just a short cut back to the main road.

Of course by the time I was getting back to the ship the rain started breaking, but didn't stop all together. I eventually convinced the excursion desk that I deserved a refund, they refunded everything except for the taxi rides.

Paradise Dive No. 1... not so much.

The next day we pulled into Belize. It was still overcast, but not raining. This was not supposed to be a dive day. We had planned to just go into town and see what there was to see.

Belize is actually below sea level, but they are protected by a very large barrier reef. This means that the cruise ships can't get very close and we had to take a 20 minute ride on small boats called "tenders" to get to shore.

I love Kristen. Kristen was raised in the desert. Kristen does not like big boats. Kristen really does not like less than big boats. This boat held around 50 people, so it wasn't exactly tiny. Through choked back tears she asked me to try to explain why she was so terrified, I made a couple of attempts but let her just ball up in panic and tears until we got to shore. Now don't get me wrong, I would've been happy to suggest we stay on the ship, but this was out of the question, and being the strong person she is, she knew she would just bite the bullet and do it.

When we got off the boats there was not much to see. You had to take a taxi to town, or take another boat to various smaller islands for the day just off shore. As the other members of the party were discussing this possibility with the different hawkers trying to get us to go to their private beaches I kept telling them it was not an option for Kristen to get back on ANOTHER boat to go someplace else. But for the sake of the greater good Kristen found her self volunteering to be boated to a private beach and snorkeling since the main land, being below sea level really didn't have beaches and she wasn't interested in shopping in town.

Do you remember how desert girl doesn't like less than large boats... now she was stepping off of the pier into a small boat. Open, just an outboard motor and a guy standing on a milk crate to see up and over the bow. There were twenty of us who paid to go to the private resort, and most of us paid a little extra to use the snorkeling equipment.

For the ride over we put on Greydon's adorable little life jacket and I held him as Kristen hid in the back of the boat because she didn't want Greydon to see her being scared.

15 minutes later we pulled up to the private... well, resort? It was humorously rustic, but was beautiful in it's own way. The small pink building housed a kitchen they called a restaurant and a lady offering to braid your hair was stationed on the porch. A speaker was playing a crackling music station louder than it was designed as the less than fresh chaise lounge chairs lined a little lagoon on a little burp of sand.

We only found out once we got there that those of us, Kristen included, who paid extra to snorkel would be getting BACK on Kristen's least favorite method of transportation ever to be tendered out to the barrier reef to snorkel. We left Greydon with Grandma and Kristen walked to her doom. Let's just say that the Germans were staring at the balling girl in the back with terrified and startled looks in their eyes.

Snorkeling was fun, we saw little fishies galore. Kristen breathed herself into calmness and enjoyed it by the end. It was fun to swim around holding onto hands with her as we pointed out little thises and thats. She didn't cry on the way back to the private resort for an hour of playing in the lagoon with Greydon. He LOVED it. And no tears on the way back to the mainland or back to the ship.

Unfortunately we foundout we are horrible parents and didn't put on enough sun screen and baby got burned... he never really complained, but we felt judged the rest of the trip as everyone apparently felt the need to comment on our poor little lobster baby. He only peeled a little on his nose. By the end of the cruise we were happy that he just looked like he had a birth mark. It's all better now. Kristen and I are still peeling.

Ok, back to stories.

The third day was supposed to be my second dive. This was the island of Roatan, Honduras. As I walked off the ship, onto a dock. My breath was taken away as I stepped into the most beautiful place I have ever been. We were in a private bay of an island covered in hills and trees that melted into white beaches lined with paln trees. I said to no one in particular, "now THIS is what I signed up for." I met a different tour company with more divers and went to the taxis stand. We had a lovely drive through this magnificent place full of poverty next to lavishness amid a Tropical Eden.

We went to a resort that actually looked like a resort. It was stunning. Next to the docks were bungalos on stilts in the crystal blue water. We got onto our nice big dive boat and got all of our equipment ready to go. Some of us jumped off the back of the boat to make sure everything was working properly before getting out to the dive site. The water was only 6 feet deep but I none the less got surprisingly concerned as I jumped in. my heart is starting to race again just thinking about it.

I forced my self to go underwater and test out the weights in my vest. They didn't work properly and I added more on the way out to the dive site. It was a very short boat ride. As we got there, just off the shore on a reef I stopped noticing the postcard setting and really wanted the boat to stop rocking as my stomach started doing churning flip flops. They threw a bunch of chum of the back of the boat and 3 foot long somethings churned the water enjoying the treat... they were harmlesss.

As I jumped in the water that was a color that belonged in a box of crayola my heart went crazy, my stomach tried to get out of my mouth and my lungs shrunk to the size of peanuts. I could barely get myself to look down into the water through my dive mask, the regulator felt foreign and misfitting and I wanted to run away. I couldn't do it. My heart kept racing faster and faster.

As everyone started their descent I just bobbed their in tears. This is where I wish I felt good about telling lies. I never got over it. Someone else started freaking out also but ended up diving only 20 feet down instead of 80. I couldn't bring myself to push the button that let the air out of my vest and would make me sink. There was no boat to come and get me so I just bobbed there instead I eventually started throwing up and calling for sharks to come and eat me.

I felt like an idiot. I had always wanted this, I was thrilled to take lessons and get my awesome equipment. I was in the most beautiful place in the world and couldn't push a half inch button to release a few pounds of air. I am not sure of this was the low point or if it was the night before when a stranger convinced me to try and Karoake and I realized I sucked at that to.

About 45 minutes to an hour later, the dive group was back and we loaded up the boat and went back in to refill up the tanks. I did not get back o nthe boat and took another cab ride of failure back to the ship.

From here we headed for home on rough seas. They are already talking about the next cruise... I looked around for another hidden camera.

We had time to waste in Tampa before the flight left so we took an historical trolley to a recommended historical little portion of town nearby called Ybor city. Apparently it is still owned by Cuba and used to be the center of cigar manufacturing in the world. It fell on hard times and is now being revitalized with shops and restaurants. The trolley driver suggested a place to eat called Hamburger Mary's. The is where we started to figure out who had been revitalizing the area of Ybor. The waiters were all surprisingly.... not macho... the entire interior was purples and feather boas, the names of the dishes on the menu were all very clever and would have made my mother blush and the bill was brought to us in a red patent leather pump. It was great food. We passed a poster on the way back to the trolley that boasted "GaYboy City" amidst a rainbow triangle... So much for Trolley Car Driver's recommendations...

The plane ride home was... interesting. We had hoped to be bumped to get some more free tickets. At the Tampa airport they said they were overbooked and would likely need volunteers, but at the last minute changed their mind and we all rushed onto the plane... before potty breaks. We were barely in the air and I made a dash to the potty before the seat belt sign was turned off. That wasn't really reacted to much. But I had the same need as we started our descent. Apparently if you try to use th potty at that time you get yelled at. They were mad, I yelled back telling them not to talk to me like that. They made me stay in the bathroom until we landed. I then regretted "staying hydrated" all week long. Luckily they didn't call the air marshal, but I felt pretty stupid again. This trip was NOT helping my cool-o-meter in any way.

Well, if you are still reading this you have too much time on your hands, or have come back a few times to finish. We made it back. Teenagers got worse before they got better nut my co coach handled it, though tears were shed, and not by the teenager. I have a million things that feel all backed up and deadlines that are breathing down my neck. But I think by now most of it is all worked out.

My students did great in Idaho, I haven't failed out of any classes yet. But I'm going to push for a good old fashioned plane ride that lands next to a beach for the next trip. I wasn't raised in a desert and even I have seen enough water to last me for a little while.