Date: August 7, 2011
To: Travel Gods
CC: Karma Masters
From: Fordeville Vacation Planning Headquarters
Subject: Vacation Illnesses
I’d like to take this opportunity to inquire about the apparent Fordeville Vacation Vomit Policy that has been implemented without my knowledge. As a key planner in all Fordeville vacation destinations, timing and itineraries, I would very much appreciate a copy of this policy so that I can prepare accordingly.
You see, at first I thought it was a fluke when my daughter came down with a stomach bug during our drive to North Carolina last month. But after the events of this past weekend, I began to take a good look at things and feel an explanation is in order.
It started Thursday afternoon, the day before we were to depart for a much-anticipated weekend trip with good friends. Not only were we looking forward to everything about this — the resort, the time with friends, the ocean — but I also found it to be an excellent distraction from missing the BlogHer conference out in San Diego.
Anyway, Thursday afternoon, my daughter — the same child who puked her way to North Carolina a mere month ago and who, I swear, had not been sick for a year prior to that point — had a definite fever and stomach issue on Thursday.
And Friday morning.
By lunchtime, she seemed decidedly better, so we pressed our luck and got in the car. Yes, that was a little risky. But by the time we finished cursing out the I-95 North corridor and arrived in Rhode Island, she seemed totally fine. All was well. There were clambakes to attend. And spa appointments to savor. And cocktails aplenty to consume. And unmatched ocean views to take in.
Life was good. We had dodged a bullet. So we naively thought.
Until Saturday morning. When my husband could not get out of bed. Could not. All day. All evening. Not until Sunday.
In between keeping my kids occupied/out of the room all day and wondering if we should get the man a doctor, I started to get visits from the Ghost of Fordeville Vacations Past.
First, the time we went to Turks & Caicos a few years ago. Our son, then age 1, and me, then four months pregnant, came down with food poisoning. Oh yes, those calls to my OB back home about potential Caribbean hospitalization were great.
Then, memories of another trip to the Caribbean, when just P and I went on our own about a year before. That had been our first getaway since our son was born. And we spent it with my husband sick in bed.
Then North Carolina.
The poor guy. He was. So. Sick. It’s a good thing we had a beautiful room, because it’s the only thing he saw for 24 hours.
Are you thinking what I was thinking? Could the spin of the Salmonella Roulette Wheel on Taco Night have been his downfall? Or was it the bug my daughter had? Or a rogue mussel from the clam bake? I don’t know. My money is on option #3 right now but it doesn’t really matter. Well, it will matter if the rest of us get sick.
But here’s the point.
You may not believe this, but we rarely get sick. At least not at home. So this is getting sort of bananas.
I’m starting to think it’s karma. For all the times I cut class in high school. For cursing like a sailor on a regular basis. For being snotty about the suburbs when I lived in the city. Yeah, I think it’s small-scale karma.
Or a family allergy to leaving the tri-state area.
I can’t even speak out loud about the travel plans P and I have in September. I can’t. Because then I’ll get Bubonic Plague.
So, until I get a copy of the policy — including the cause, timeline and potential remediation — we’ll just stay here.