Okay so this particular event has not occurred yet.
But it’s about to. Next week.
I swear to you this is true because I wouldn’t even make up something this perverse if it wasn’t. We’re going on a cruise to Jamaica and Haiti next week. Haiti. Yeah, let it sink in — Haiti.
But in my defense, I thought we were going to a luxurious “private island”, which is what they call it in the itinerary. So the cruise line was trying to trick me and they totally did and then I bought the tickets and then my husband decided get all Christopher Columbus and wanted to know exactly where the “private island” was that we are sailing to. Yeah. It’s Haiti.
But just so we’re all clear and I’m not throwing the esteemed cruise line under the bus, it isn’t the part of Haiti that is totally devastated. It’s another part. The part where you’re apparently not supposed to think about death and destruction and destitution. It’s the part where you can order lots of mai-tais and take pictures with parrots on your shoulder and have TONS o’ fun and fantasize about building a cute little compound right on the beach one day. And recommend it to all your family members. And the Internet.
Oh, I have so many jokes about how ridiculous this is, but I also have a heart and if I told them all I would feel bad about myself as a human being, perhaps even more than I do now for paying to go to Haiti next week on my one single romantic vacation with my man that we take away from our children every year. And probably the last one we’ll ever taken given that three kids may get us officially kicked out of the grandparents babysitting club.
But anyway, I wonder what excursions we’ll have to choose from? — STOP, Love. You promised.
Okay, I said I wasn’t going to tell jokes. So I’m not. But you’re allowed to. But I mean, really?
Okay, so I’ll be gone for a while. But I’ll write again when I get back from fucking Haiti.
Have a banner week!