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Travel, I find, is an inevitable display of one’s true self. Although I try to project a personality of calm, kind, magnanimous love towards my fellow man, a few days into a trip to anywhere and a very different person begins to surface.

I’m instantly angry at anyone who invades my personal space, a trait which reared its ugly head at the pool today. We awoke in good spirits, had a lovely buffet breakfast and then staked out a strategic place near the pool. We scored three lounge chairs together, under an umbrella, near the entrance to the pool.

But, after taking my son for a walk about midway through the morning (my husband stayed behind to hold our spot while we were gone), we arrived back to find some people had awkwardly pushed additional chairs to the end of the row, blocking the walkway.

They had at least four children in tow, all running around and invading my personal space. Not long after, the sky darkened, threatening rain. We took our cue to leave as the prime real estate we held was being invaded by shitty neighbors. We returned to our room as the storm unleashed, and a very petty part of me hoped that family got stuck out in it, unable to wrangle their monster children effectively in the deluge.

Meanwhile, we had our own hands full trying to convince an overtired toddler to nap. After much hostility and negotiating, we managed to get him to lay down and I quickly followed as the morning’s activities already exhausted me.

In the afternoon, the storm had cleared so we decided to ride over to the harborside shops. The first stop was a candy store, which had repeated card reader malfunctioning to each of the cards we provided. Even after a call to our credit card company, she insisted on either cash or room charge. It was convenient, considering neither of those transactions meant a vendor absorbed surcharge. As it turns out, my card worked just fine at the Ben and Jerrys next door.
The ground was still wet after the storm, and I slipped hard, turning my foot almost 180 degrees on itself against the wet stones. The pain was instant and excruciating. My left foot swelled and turned a lovely shade of purple. Let that be a lesson on buying those cheap Old Navy flip flops.
We grabbed the shuttle back to our room and waked for the line to die down for dinner. We walked around after our meal, exploring the inside of our hotel as the storm was returning. At the end of our walk, we found ourselves back at the harborside shops (I didn’t realize they were connected!) and stumbled upon another group of unruly preteen assholes and their absolutely shitfaced fathers.

Between their top volume hollering, commandeering the luggage carts for their children to push each other around on and constantly taking selfies, I was ready to murder all of them. Worse yet, my son was watching this chaos unfold, his mind being warped more and more by the second.

By some divine grace, the bellmen realized that putting this three ring circus on the shuttle bus was begging for trouble so they arranged a van for them to go privately. Normally, I wouldn’t condone such special treatment for such awful conduct but there’s a glimmer of hope the driver would just let the van go into the harbor and remove these assholes from the gene pool. Or perhaps they’d drop them off in a bad part of town and let nature take its course. At any rate, they didn’t get on our shuttle and we managed to part ways without bloodshed.