The Vacation, Bookended By Hell

So, last Sunday I packed the family off for our annual week in Montauk.  We started out by hitting my sister's house to say farewell to my niece who is headed off  to college.  While we were there a storm of biblical proportions moved into the area.  It poured for hours.  So, we decided to ride it out a bit.  Figured we'd hang at my sister's until it let up a bit.  Around 11 the insanity lightened up to a downpour and we set out for the next stop, my parents' house, where we'd crash for the night before making the trek to Montauk.

About 20 minutes into the drive, the ridiculous rain resumed and my wipers apparently couldn't keep up with the rain.  A blade came loose, the other blade overlapped with it and suddenly my wiper blades were bent and useless.

So, I called BMW roadside assistance and my wife called AAA.  Since we were on a highway, we had to be towed. 




The tow truck took forever, nobody was open to repair the wipers and my kids were freaking out.  The rain let up a bit and I managed to move the car from the highway to a temple parking lot in a not so great neighborhood and we waited.

And we waited.

And we waited.

Then we waited some more.  At 2:00 AM, AAA called to tell us a truck was coming and that was when we found out that they couldn't take all four of us in the truck.  So I called a cab.  The cab showed up at 2:30 and my wife and kids hopped into it.  $150 to get them to my parents' house, about 50 miles away.

The truck showed up shortly after that.  I was fucking thrilled.  Then I found out that the hitch to pull my car onto the flatbed is located in the spare wheel well.  That well is located in the floor of the back compartment.  You know it.  That's where you put your fucking luggage when you are travelling.  So, in the Noah-esque flood, I unpacked our bags.  We're talking a month's worth of clothing because my wife figures it might snow at some point and my kids will go through 12 outfits a day. 

We finally got the hitch out, I repacked the car with all the soaked bags and the tow truck driver got us out of there around 3:30 in the morning.  A short ride later we pulled up to my parents' street.  I had the driver put the car down away from the house so as to not wake the whole fucking neighborhood and I pulled the car into the driveway shortly before 4. 

Around 5, my son starts crying in his sleep.  "It hurts, ouch, daddy" and so on.

I woke up at the crack of dawn, got the wipers fixed, hit the bank for some business that was necessary and then returned home to check on the "ready" status of my family.

My son woke up and ear was killing him and off to the local doctor we went.  Turns out he had an ear infection, which was finally diagnosed around 3 PM.  We picked up his medicine and headed out to meet our friends in Montauk shortly after 4.  The whole first day of our vacation shot and his days of swimming were limited.  Fortunately, the weather was shitty on Monday and wasn't expected to clear up until Wednesday so the lack of swimming wouldn't be complete torture for him.

For the first part of the trip, friends of ours were staying at the same hotel and we hit the town, showed them around, hit the shops and ate like fiends.  The kids hit the indoor pool on Tuesday and then, on Wednesday, we decided to hit the beach, ignoring the ugly clouds covering the sky.   The air and water temp were both around 70 and the girls were dying to ride the waves so the dads, being total sports, sucked up their nuts and waded into the chilly waters. 

The sun started making an appearance shortly after 1 and by 3 it was a gorgeous day, albeit a bit on the cold side for the beach.

Another family was supposed to meet up with us on Wednesday but, due to the ugly weather (worse by them), they asked if it would be better if they came on Thursday.  I said yes and then I called my mother and told her that my sister and the rest of them should come on Friday instead.  Now, normally, this would be a totally dick move but my sister stopped by my office to see my dad the week prior to my vacation and on her way out she informed me that she was coming, with her kids and my parents, to Montauk to intrude on our vacation.  They didn't actually ask if any day worked or if we cared, they simply said they'd be there on Thursday.

So, when our friends called I opted for what would definitely be better for my family. 

Anyway, the other family came out Thursday, we took them to the best beach in Montauk, which was only possible because we managed to snag a second parking pass, and we rode waves, built sand castles and had a blast.  We went out to dinner with them and they headed home late Thursday night.

Friday was better than Thursday and Saturday was supposed to be even nicer so I extended the hotel for one more night, avoiding the long ride home after a day at the beach.

Everyone was thrilled.

We packed up and left Sunday morning.  We stopped in East Hampton for lunch and some wandering around and we finally arrived at my parents' home around 3 in the afternoon.  My sister was there, without her kids (that situation is stranger every time I see her) and the kids went right into the pool.  My son, who turned 5 in June, was convinced to try a back dive.  He's impressive with his regular dive and my dad, somehow, got him to do what none of the other grandkids would try.  He wasn't bad but a couple of bad back flops resulted in his giving up for the day.  Then he convinced my 76 year old father to show him how a back dive looks.  My old man walked over to the edge of the pool and banged it out like a 20 year old.  Dude's impressive.

More so since he promised my son he'd show him a flip off a chair next week.

As to the back dive, I have the video. 

A client and his girlfriend stopped by around dinner time and my son fell head over heels in love with the girlfriend.  The boy has good taste when it comes to looks but he's got to learn that a brain is as important, if not more, when it comes to women.  The girl was 23, great body, big boobs, which he loves, and extremely pretty but, when you spoke to her, you came away shaking your head.  The client is a doctor who also picked up a law degree, all done by the time he was 23.  He's a successful dermatologist and he's working on a deal for a reality show to go along with all the other crap he does.  Real smart kid.  What he's doing with a holistic healer/actress wannabee who never went to college is a total mystery, even if she is a real head turner.  My only guess is that he's gay (which we all think is possible) and this is his attempt to look straighter than straight.

My son scored her phone number with the promise of a babysitting date.  He added her phone number to the list of numbers he scored from my niece's friends who all came by for her sendoff party the prior sunday.  The kid's a total fucking stud.

Before we left, my mother decided to give my wife an earful for cancelling their plans.  My wife, having learned that she shouldn't hold her tongue when it comes to my mother and my sister, fired right back.  The whole ride home was a wonderful discussion about how much we can't stand my sister, my mother and the dramatic shit stirring they revel in.  This conversation, the accusation that we blew off my family for friends, thereby ruining their week, and the accompanying guilt, put a dark cloud over, what had been, an amazing vacation.

When we pulled up to our apartment, my daughter woke up and said she couldn't wait to get to her bed, cuddle up with Met's Bear (her teddy bear) and sleep.

My wife looked at me and mouthed "did you pack met's bear?"

I hadn't.  Normally, I'm the responsible one.  I'm the one who makes sure the nintendos are packed, the chargers, ipods and game cartridges all stowed away. I'm also the one who reminds the kids to grab their sleep gear.  My son sleeps with some old, ratty burp clothes.  He calls them mlamla's.  (don't ask)  If he doesn't have one, he doesn't sleep.  It's a total disaster.  For my daughter, it's the aforementioned Mets Bear.  This is a bear my niece gave to my daughter when she was a baby.  My niece comes from a Yankee family and, knowing my daughter would be following the Mets, like her dad, she passed along the bear.  She doesn't bring it with her on sleep overs and she's gone without it before but, the prospect of the pink clad bear being lost in Montauk was too much to bear.

She burst into tears upon hearing that we might have left the poor bear behind.

We called the hotel but housekeeping was gone for the night.

Now we wait.

And I feel guilty as hell.  This was my fault.  I'm prepared to drive the 3 hours each way to get it if that is what it takes.