Day 4 - Antigua

We did much the same thing in our next port of call, Antigua It was very picturesque when we disembarked the ship, as you can see from the photo below. Buildings with bright colors. Lots of shops. I wore a different pair of flip flops, but my already irritated feet just got worse and by the end of the day, my feet were swollen and I bore the flip-flop stigmata.

This is a photo of our ship from the port below. She's a big one!

Below is a different angle of the ship. Our room was one of the first rows of portholes on the bottom level. At night, when the seas were rougher, the water would splash onto our window!

A steel drum band was outside the ship to welcome us to Antigua.

We hired a taxi/bus to take us to a nice beach and a short tour of the island. He said he'd take us to the airport and I thought, "Why?" but as you can see from the pictures below, the Antigua International Airport is gorgeous! It looks like a resort when you enter it and the grounds are like the gardens of royalty. According to our driver it was all made by some Texas billionare. The airport grounds include a cricket field, a cricket hall of fame, a golf course, and several other buildings.

Another part of the airport.

This is the Dickinson Beach which is basically the beach used by the Sandals Resort. The yellow buildings in the background are part of Sandals. Beni and I were temped to walk up the Sandals bar and order a drink. How would they know?

Frankie, our little beach bum, sat down and struck this pose all on his own.

Since Frankie wasn't too excited with going in the water, he loved to sit near his cousin Anna and listen to her iPod.

My nephews Mike and Filippo rented jet skis

That night, the seas were rougher than they'd been. I had napped through Captain Mishelle's announcement that those who had motion sickness might want to take something, so after dinner, I felt the nausea coming on and decided to just spend the night in bed.

Day 3 of our vacation - Life's a Beach in St. Martin

Once we were settled on our ship - the Serenade of the Seas, things began to look up. We enjoyed our first three course dinner in the dinning room, had a drink or two and I saw a very entertaining live show with the cruise singers and dancers with lots of songs from Broadway musicals. The sea rocked us to sleep and when we awoke the next morning we were in St. Martin. We got up

early, around 7ish, and had breakfast with most of the family in the dining hall where I ordered my all time favorite - Eggs Benedict! We rounded up the sleepy young adults and headed off the ship where we took a water taxi to "downtown" which was just a row of one and two-story shops and a couple of hotels right on the beach. This was the day Mario fell in love with the beach. Whenever we went afterwards, we couldn't get him out of the water. Frankie enjoyed the water in St. Martin, but we couldn't get him back in after this day. We stayed there for a couple of hours before taking the water taxi back.

This was also the day I wore a brand new pair of flip-flops, ordered specifically for my cruise. We didn't do a whole lot of walking but by the time we made it back to the ship, I had blisters from the straps. More on this later.

We ate lunch in the Windjammer Cafe - the ships buffet - and Mario found love #2. We knew this kid could eat if it was something he liked, but he was going back for seconds and thirds not including dessert! We would spend all of our breakfasts and lunches here at the Windjammer until the end of the cruise. The food was good, but I wouldn't go so far as to say it was amazing. The dinners were excellent, but I could never stay awake long enough to try the midnight buffets - then again, I think there was only one of those.

The rest of the day was spent in typical fashion. A little while after lunch was spent either by the adult or kids pools. Then a nap, shower and get ready for dinner. After dinner Beni or I would go back to the room with the boys since they were wiped out until Beni's dad came to relieve us. (Honestly, it was mostly Beni who stayed with the boys.) I saw a second show called "Vibeology" with pop songs sung by the ship's singers and dancers. We also played "Name that Song" in the lounge and came in second place in a game called "The Quest" where we had a team of 7 people and had to be the first to appear with anything the host requested, such as "a woman, with two bras, not being worn and one must be her own" or "a man with back hair" or "a form of birth control". It was all very fast paced and hysterical and we only lost by 2 points! Thanks to my neice Anna, nephew Michael and new-found friend Louis from Baltimore, for being such intense players!

Beni and the boys next to a real clipper ship docked right in front of our ship

Beni and Anna on our water taxi ride to the beach.

Our home away from home - the Serenade of the Seas - taken from the beach on St. Martin.

The downtown area of St. Martin and our first beach excursion.

Me and the boys.

Beni and his dad.

Nonno, Frankie, Anna, Mario and Beni enjoying the warm waters of St. Martin.

Day 2 or Better Late Than Never

Instead of waking up to the sight of St. Thomas (photos courtesy of my neice Anna who made it on board on time), the Manzella family woke up in a stinky hotel room in rainy Atlanta, Georgia. Not what we paid for. We get ready, which for me consists of taking a quick shower and putting on the same clothes I wore yesterday. Beni and the boys had a change of clothes in the carry-0n bag.

The shuttle drops us off at the airport, and not having to check in any bags, we go through security and to our gate and wait for about three hours. When an attendant gets to the desk, Beni has her check to see if our luggage was found and if it is on our flight. She confirms that yes, it is on this flight with us. Halleluia!

We board the plane, sitting in FIRST CLASS, and it takes off on time. We should arrive at 3 and we have until 5 or 5:30 to board the ship. Beni called from Atlanta to make sure someone from Royal Caribbean was aware we were coming late and would be at the airport to bring us to the ship. Airborne we could see the Florida Keys and the clear blue seas and things started looking up. In just a few hours all would be right with the world again.

Disembarking in St. Thomas was fun. We got to alight from the plane on the tarmac from one of those roll-up staircases, which makes you feel like a dignitary. The airport was tiny. We went through customs quickly and painlessly and went to the semi-outdoor baggage claim area. We saw many islanders holding signs with people's names on them, but of course, none had our name. Not a good sign. I stood and waited for our bags while Beni called Royal Caribbean yet again to make sure someone was coming to get us.

The boys were getting antsy. Mario kept asking, "Is that one ours?" and when I'd tell him it wasn't he became upset that our luggage would be lost again, and it would be all Frankie's fault. Soon, all the luggage had come and gone and - you guessed it - our's hadn't arrived. Beni found the guy from Royal Caribbean who'd been given the wrong arrival time, almost left without us, then gotten another call saying we were there and turned around and come back. He and Beni went to file a missing luggage form. A woman from New York was throwing a fit, threatening to shoot someone because her luggage was also missing. I went to talk to her to let her know we were in the same situation. She said she'd been in a hotel in NJ for two days because of weather delays while she'd been paying for a hotel in St. Thomas. Now her luggage was lost. I wished her luck, went and sat on the conveyer belt and started to just sob. Frankie saw me and came and sat next to me and said, "Mommy, it's all my fault." Now I was out of control. I was sad that my vacation was ruined, I was upset that my youngest son felt he was to blame thanks to my oldest son and I was ready to put Mario on medication to get him under control.

The RC rep decided he'd drive us to the ship so that we'd make it on board and he would come back to deal with the luggage situation and worse case scenario we'd have our luggage at our next port of call. As we rode to the port I imagined myself attending that night's dinner in my bathing suit - the only other clothes I had with me.

One would think that with all the crap we'd been through, and knowing that we were arriving and someone had come to get us, someone from the boat would be waiting to greet us and process us and appologize, but no. We had to wait in front of the boat as all the passengers from the day before passed us wearing swimsuit cover-ups and shorts and sunglasses and carrying souvenier bags, laughing and looking at us and wondering what our story was. Someone asked, "Did you just arrive?" and we told everyone we knew to boycott Delta airlines and told them of our ordeal. People were very nice and said things like, we hadn't missed anything fun and that St. Thomas wasn't really that nice, etc. All lies, I'm sure, but exactly what we'd wanted to hear.

Finally someone from the ship came and took us in and gave us our cards to board the ship. They took us up to guest services where we had to fill out all kinds of stuff, not just for boarding but to address the lost luggage situation. The boys were still ansty, so Beni gave me the room keys and had me take them to the room. On the way, we saw Beni's dad. He asked where Beni was and I told him filling out paper work for our lost luggage. He said, "Your luggage is here, in your room. It came last night." Sure enough, we opened our stateroom and there were our bags. Basically, the Delta attendant who told us our bags were on the flight with us had flat out lied! Not to mention the fact that the RC personnel had no idea that our bags had been checked in! I left the boys with their grandparents and went to tell Beni.

All this settled, we had 45 min. to shower and get ready for our first formal dinner. We were on the ship, and things could only get better, but it was the worst start to a vacation than any of us had ever experienced!

Day 1 of our vacation or BOYCOTT DELTA AIRLINES!

Here is a travel journal of our cruise vacation. I will begin before slightly before Day 1. At about 7:30 p.m. we set out for Chicago, to spend the night at Beni's parents' house which is a 7 minute drive to O'Hare airport. His parents had left that morning, along with his sister and her family and our nephew. As is always the case, I had a feeling I was forgetting something, and sure enough, once we got to my in-law's house, I realized it was my anxiety meds and my Prilosec. Beni made a Walgreen's run for the hearburn pills but I had to resign myself to not become anxious and try not to get too cranky by the end of the cruise. Fran without her Lexapro can be like Fran with PMS. Not a pretty picture. The next issue to address was the fact that Beni's parents do not own a normal alarm clock - part of the joys of retirement, I guess. He found an old travel alarm from 1972 and set that along with his wristwatch alarm and we hoped we'd wake up on time to leave the house by 5.

It was a restless night. I'd wake up every hour or so and wonder what time it was. I got up and walked to the kitchen to check the microwave at 2:30 and went back to bed. Luckily, both alarms went off and we were up at 4 to quickly get ourselves ready to leave.

My in-law's neighbor gave us a ride to the airport. We checked in and walked to our gate and were ready by 5:30 for our 7 a.m. flight to Atlanta where we'd have an hour to change terminals if necessary and get to our connecting flight. We boarded our flight on time but were delayed half an hour because Delta didn't start loading our luggage until after everyone was on board.

Not knowing where our connecting gate would be in Atlanta, we were a bit worried. Our flight was originally scheduled to land at 10:10 and the connecting flight was scheduled to leave at 11:10. When we landed in Atlanta, it was 10:30 and our flight attendant didn't have gate information for any connecting flights. We disembarked, went to an attendant in the terminal and she directed us to Terminal E. If you've never been to the airport in Atlanta, it is made up of 5 different terminals that run parallel to each other, named A, B, C, D, and E. We were in A and had to get to E. We had to go down a floor, hop a train system that stopped at D, C, and B before getting to A. We went back upstairs to Terminal E and found our gate. It was 11:02. A few stragglers were standing at the desk. We went up to the Delta employee and presented our boarding passes. Our conversation went something like this:

Attendant: I'm sorry, this flight is closed.
Beni: We just got here. We were on a connecting flight that just arrived late from
Chicago.
Attendant: I'm sorry, but the flight is closed. The doors are locked and we are not taking
any more passengers.
Me: But we have reserved seats on THIS flight!
Attendant: Sorry but this flight is closed. You were supposed to be here 15 min. prior to
boarding and since you weren't, and the flight was oversold, your seats were given
to someone else.
Me: But we were on a Delta flight! You should have seen that we were arriving late!
Attendant: I'm sorry, but I can't let you on that flight or I could lose my job. You'll have to
wait in that line to get another flight.

We turn to see a line of at least 100 people waiting to speak to Delta agents to make other arrangements. We get in line. At this point, Mario's ODD has kicked in and he's blaming Frankie
for our not getting to the flight on time. Frankie is telling Mario to shut up and the typical wrestling ensues. Luckily, a Delta agent sees us and tells us to follow her to the "special" area for "special" travelers. Here they offer the same services as outside, but you get free drinks and snacks and a comfy lounge to relax in. Beni tries to get us on the next flight, but that too is oversold. We get on as standbys. There is one more flight to Puerto Rico that day, but it arrives at 9 p.m. and 9 p.m. is when they pull the gangplank on the ship and don't let anyone else board. The next flight is our only chance of catching the ship before it leaves port. I have taken the boys to sit in the comfy seats and am trying to get them to settle down. Mario is still blaming Frankie and Frankie is livid, ready to scratch his brother's eyes out. Fun times.

Arrangements made, we head back to Terminal A to the exact gate we disembarked the plane from Chicago, which is, in fact, the next plane headed for Puerto Rico. What a coincidink! Perhaps our travel agent could have given us a little leeway and given us a 2 hour layover and none of this chaos would have happened. Nah!

As we wait in line at this gate to check in and report our standby passenger status, a woman who was on the flight from Chicago saw Beni holding the Royal Caribbean pamphlet and asked if we were going to Puerto Rico to catch a cruise. We talked a while and turns out she and her husband and another family of five had also missed the 11:10 flight and were waiting to fly this next flight standby. There went our chances. Eleven standby seats? Don't think so. Sure enough, everyone boarded and they called each standby group by name to offer the ONE available seat left on the flight.

Delta's practices and policies seem completely unethical and illegal. If you are selling seats for a flight that holds 200 people, how can you sell 220 tickets? One of the attendants we spoke to said that usually about 10 to 15 travelers don't show up, so they do that to ensure full flights. What happens when they DO show up? They get bumped.

By the time we went to the "special" lounge area in terminal A, we were ready to hit someone. I went up to the counter upset and raising my voice and of course, the attendant got defensive, so Beni told me to calm down and he dealt with the woman. They told us to go sit down while they called a supervisor down to work with us. At this point we are all bummed because we know we are not going to make it to our cruise on time and will be missing one whole day of our vacation. The kids are cranky and I don't mind. I want them to get on the nerves of all those "special" people in the "special" lounge. Maybe they'll take care of us sooner. After about 45 min. of updates but no supervisor, I go and get the boys some milkshakes and chicken mcnuggets. Upon returning, I am told by an attendant that I can't bring food into the "special" lounge. "Up yours!" I want to yell, but instead I calmly tell Frankie to go get his brother and meet me outside. We sit on the floor outside of the "special" area like homeless people (which at this point we are) and eat. By the time we're done, the supervisor finally arrives.

We are put on a flight for the following day from Atlanta to St. Thomas, which is our cruise ship's first port of call. Our luggage is still in Atlanta, but the supervisor claims it will take a few hours to find it out on the tarmac and bring it in for us, but he promises he will personally see to it that our bags are on our flight to St. Thomas in the morning. He comps us a hotel room and we walk all around the outer perimeter of the god-forsaken aiport to find the shuttle that will take us to Wellesly Hotel.

Turns out it is really a Comfort Inn. Its front doors are locked shut at 4 in the afternoon. Very welcoming. There is a line of about 20 other stranded Delta passengers also checking in, so more waiting. The hotel - which claims to be non-smoking, smells of stale cigarette smoke and mold. Lovely. We go to our room, make some calls, and go to a nearby Italian restaurant named Giovanna's, for dinner. A recommendation - don't eat Italian food in Atlanta. It wasn't inedible, but it wasn't good. The 19-year-old waitress talked too much about her personal life and Beni's seafood pasta had Ragu sauce. We went back to our room to go to bed and hope for a better day tomorrow.

Later, settled happily on the cruise, the Cruise Director made a joke one night during one of the shows. "Delta? Do you all know what Delta stands for? Don't expect luggage to arrive." I think I was the only one applauding from the audience.

Where can I get one of those?

Over the past two weeks, I have witnessed fashion trends at my school that should be arrested by the fashion police and condemned by the judges of good sense. I wish I could include photos of these items, but I could not find images on Google of such atrocities. I'll try to describe them as best I can.

The first item was worn by a grown woman who walked past me in the main hallway about a week ago. She was with a teenage boy, so she must have been the proud mom of one of East High's finest. She wore a knee length pancho. But it wasn't any old pancho. It was a blanket pancho. You know those fuzzy blankets you see Chicago Bears fans wearing at games when it's 7 below? Well, imagine a pancho made out of one of those blankets. It gets worse. On this lovely piece of outerwear was - I kid you not - an image of Al Pacino as Scarface, on the front and back! The image was so large it resembled a movie poster hanging in a movie theater. Ridiculous. I can't even venture a guess where one might purchase an article of clothing such as this.

Conversely, I CAN imagine where one might purchase the next item. Today, in my last class of the day, a young lady strolled in wearing a Robert Taylor Projects t-shirt. For those of you who do not live in the Chicagoland area, let me tell you what that is. It is exactly what it sounds like. Projects. As in housing projects in Chicago. The shirt was black with a graphic of the building and proud white letters above and below the image. The young woman, wore it with a flourish, the collar had been cut a la Flashdance (but not so 80's) and it was tied at the waist in a cute little knot. I assume I can grab one of those at the Robert Taylor Projects or one of it's many surrounding souvenier shops since it is such the tourist attraction. Proceeds go to support the children of crackhead mamas and help supply bail bonds. I think when I go, I'll get the version that says, "My extended family live in the Robert Taylor Projects and all they brought me was this dumb-a** tshirt."

Ay Caramba!

On Tuesday this week, I had to take my students to register for the classes for next fall. We did this in the main hallway, outside of the counseling offices and the counselors came out and called the students in one at a time. Most of us were sitting there in the hall on folding chairs for the better part of the class period. During a couple of the classes, I started up a game of 20 questions to pass the time. We played a few rounds of this until most of the kids got bored. One young man wanted to continue playing so he asked me to think of something and he'd ask the questions. There was one rule with which he wanted me to comply - "They have to be Mexican, Miss. Do you know any Mexicans?" Puhlease! I told him I had someone in mind and the game began.

Seeing as most Mexican or Mexican-American students see the east side of Aurora as Little Mexico, his questions seemed to be assuming that this "Mexican" I had in mind was in our school, when he was, in fact, actually in Mexico. I took the liberty to say that, no, this person was not from Aurora. He looked truly puzzled. I decided to give him another hint:

Me: Where is the largest Mexican population?
A: Florida!
Me: No. The largest population of Mexican people in a country other than the United States?
A: Honduras? Guatamala?
Me: (Stomping my feet) No, no, no! How about Mexico?
A: Oh, I knew that. Is it Vicente Fox?

Yes. It actually was.