This One Time, In Key West... (PART FOUR - HEADING HOME)

We woke up early on our last morning, so we could grab a quick breakfast and stop into town to pick up some giant cookies for the plane ride home.  Our flight was at 5:30 later that day, but we were out the door by 9:30am.

We drove to Dunkin Donuts for what we anticipated to be a speedy on-the-go meal, but ended up being there for half an hour as the two slowest women on Earth took our orders and messed up Claudia's food three times.  When we went into town the first store we needed to go to was closed, and the cookie store didn't have the kind that Jil wanted.

"Let's just go home, I think we're done here" was the general consensus.

We drove to the airport, this time not in rush hour traffic, and also this time in the daylight.  We could see the beautiful water as we drove over bridge after bridge, and the big mansions that Oprah and other celebrities had as vacation homes.  About a third of the way into our drive, we stopped in Islamorada for a pee break (I wasn't lying when I said I always have to pee), and Jil showed us the beautiful spot where she had wanted to take us on our way down for dinner and drinks.  It's a shame, it would have been an amazing start to our trip had we not been delayed for ten years of our lives.

One last group pic with our best friend, the selfie stick

The one thing that was not so amazing about Islamorada; there was water beneath the bridge that was filled with tarpons.  For those of you who aren't familiar, they are fish that are roughly the size of a basketball player.  These things are HUGE, and they jump straight out of the water to catch food and their eyes are half the size of my face.  It's not ok.  More ok than the iguanas, but still...not great.  Also with them were sharks.  Because nothing is more comforting that looking down at fish half the size of a football field, only to have a shark mosey on by.

The monster to the left of the shark was easily 6 ft long.  WHY ARE YOU SO BIG, FISH?

We got back in the car and drove and drove and drove.  Luckily, it was sunny, beautiful weather.  We stopped to get gas and stock up on beef jerky for the plane (protein kids, it's all about protein).  We arrived at the car rental place, dropped off the car, grabbed our bags, and walked into the airport.  They weighed our bags after telling us that if they were over 40 lbs we would have to pay an extra $30 fee.  The suitcase that Jil and I had split was 39.5 lbs.  Carol and Claudia's suitcase was 42 lbs.  Carol opened the bag and, understandably frustrated, took out a bunch of clothes and threw them in the brown paper bag that had held our giant cookies.  The part that was annoying was that we had exactly the same amount of stuff in our suitcases as we did on the way down.  And remember when I said Carol hates carrying a bag?  This was not her favorite moment.  We walked to our gate, sat down, and that's when the rain came.  The sky was black, it rained down, it rained up, it rained sideways.  It was like that scene in Forrest Gump.  Jil pulled up a weather map on her phone and we saw Hurricane Harvey coming from the west and a new hurricane coming from the East.  Right down the center was a clear path that luckily included Atlanta, which we had a layover in again.

They boarded us 30 minutes late, and then we sat on the runway (Tarmac? Airport driveway?) for a full hour waiting for the rain to let up.  We then noticed that none of the seats had air sickness bags, so I started doing inventory in my head of how many random plastic bags I had in my carry-on that I could give to Carol if need be.

We finally got off the ground and again we had turbulence.  Not as bad as the trip down, but enough for us to grab the seats in front of us again.  We landed in Atlanta and they told us we had 10 minutes to get off and do whatever before we had to board again.  We ran off, peed quicker than we had peed before, went to board the plane, and were told it would still be about a 20 minute wait.

So we just threw our bags on the ground and sat where we stood.  Chairs be damned, they were a full two feet away.

The second leg of the flight went so smoothly that I thought, "If every flight was like this, I would fly all the time".  Literally the SECOND that thought left my mind, our plane started shaking again and the pilot came on and told us there would be some turbulence.  At that point, I was so exhausted I literally don't even remember what I was thinking.

At around 10:30 that night we landed, and by 11:45 we were home.

Although the travel to and from was hell, the trip itself was amazing, albeit exhausting.  I'll tell you one thing though; as I sat in my apartment the next day, with the temperature outside barely reaching 60 degrees as it poured for 24 hours straight, I desperately longed to be back in those muggy, sunny, iguana filled Florida Keys.

The EP Ladies

This One Time, In Key West... (PART THREE - IT'S RAINING POOP)

Sunday morning.

Beach Day.

But first, breakfast.

We went to Blue Heaven, as Jil had been there before and I had a couple of people from work suggest it.  It's a really cute outdoor place with a rustic, islandly feel and chickens and roosters walking around.  In fact, there were roosters all over Key West- they're its version of squirrels.

We sat and we waited.  We finally ordered our coffee and we waited.  We finally ordered our food and we waited.  The food was good, but the rest of us should have taken Claudia's advice and just substituted the various omelet fillings with more meat and cheese.  We were about halfway through our meal, when we noticed something wet drip down from the sky, straight onto the chair in between Claudia and I that held our purses and sweatshirts.  Then more stuff came down, a little more forcefully and with a slightly brownish tint.

"Is, is that...poop?"

No sooner had this question been asked then a GLOB OF CHICKEN DIARRHEA FELL FROM THE HEAVENS AND SPLAT DOWN IN BETWEEN ME AND CLAUD'S COFFEE MUGS.

Everyone stopped.  Everyone stared.

"Did it get on our stuff?" Jil asked, almost afraid to say the question out loud.

I looked over and saw brown spots on everything.

"YUP", I yelled and stood up, frantically looking up and around for a safe place to stand.

We tried to get our waitresses attention but she was awful and just kept walking past.  Finally Claudia was able to grab her eye.

"Hi, yes," Claud said as the girl casually sauntered over, "Yes, um, we just got SHIT ON".

"Oh no," the waitress said, looking down at the glob of pure poultry evil spreading across the table, "Did it get on you?"

"It got all over our stuff." I told her.

"I'm so sorry.  I'll send a busboy over right away."

It took the busboy about ten minutes to show up, and he lazily threw some napkins on the table.  Then the manager came over and literally chuckled and said, "Well that hasn't happened in awhile".

In awhile?  IN AWHILE?  If we wanted to get shit on we would just stand outside in Pennsylvania and let a pigeon's digestive system have its way with us.

I went to the bathroom to reevaluate my life, and when I returned the girls informed me that they took some money off of our check (which didn't matter because they overcharged us for other things), and apparently we were each going to get a free t-shirt from the gift shop.  While picking out our shirts, a woman came in and told us that we could only get 2 free shirts between the 4 of us, and I immediately became the kind of customer that I hate, and instructed her to go talk to her manager again because either we're all getting free shirts, or we're just leaving.  She came back and said we could all get one, so we all picked out ugly stupid shirts from their ugly stupid gift shop.

We went back to the hotel and I ran my sweatshirt underneath water in the bathtub and then hung it to dry.  Funny thing about tropical weather though- air drying is impossible.

We soldiered on and went to the beach.  I'm obsessed with palm trees and to be on a beach that had them everywhere was one of the greatest things I've ever seen.  And the water was warm.  And clear.  I never knew such luxury existed.  We lounged and read and then noticed it was starting to look like rain so we drove back to the hotel and sat in a cabana by the pool.  It was here that I noticed all of the iguanas.

Hello Lover

 Here's the thing.  Not much scares me in terms of animals.  You can cover me in snakes and rats and scorpions and it wouldn't bother me.  You could throw hypodermic needles my way and it would just be another day at the Jersey Shore.  But something about iguanas...no no no.  Iguanas will leap through the air like a Jurassic gazelle and EAT YOUR FUCKING FACE OFF.

These assholes were everywhere.  Walking by the pool.  Sleeping on the island IN the pool.  One waited for a lady to get up out of her lounge chair before strolling over, hopping up on it, and making himself at home.  There was one in the grass behind my chair that kept getting closer, and every time I made eye contact with it, I swear it grinned and licked its lips.  Carol finally had to shoo it away before I went into cardiac arrest.

Jurassic Park 6: Terror in the Keys

As per usual, it started raining again, so we went upstairs and climbed into bed.  A couple of hours later we got dressed again and went out for our last night in Florida.  Our first stop was Mallory Square, where every night there was a sunset festival.  Except for that night apparently.  There was one weird guy with a cat who had bald spots from stress (the guy and the cat), and after standing there for a minute and getting a stranger to take a full length picture of us (the one downside of the selfie stick), we moved on to dinner.

We DO have legs!

We went to another cute outdoor place for dinner, where Jil and Carol had delicious burgers and Claudia and I had dreadfully disappointing crab cakes and quesadillas.  After eating we hopped around to a couple of bars, including one that had dollar bills stapled all over every inch of it.  There was an alligator in a glass case at the back of the place, so we jumped up next to it to take a picture.  A foreign man with a staple gun joined in, and while I don't remember exactly what he was saying, I do remember being worried about the combination of his blood alcohol level and heavy duty office supplies.

One sneeze from this guy and we all would have staples in our heads

Then we wandered around some more and went into a bar called The Bull.  Jil went to the bathroom and when she came back she informed us that there was a clothing optional bar upstairs.  She seemed grossed out by it, but at the mention of 'clothing optional', Claudia and I looked at each other and raised our fists in the air.

"PENIS!" we shouted, with the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning.

Carol looked at us. "A guy from work said to not go up to the Garden of Eden".

"PENIS." Claudia and I said again, this time as a fact, not an exclamation.

We went up to the second floor and noticed everybody was clothed.  Well this didn't seem right.  Then Claudia noticed another set of stairs with a sign next to it that said No Cell Phones.

"This must be it", she said.

"Hooray!" I yelled, running up the stairs and preparing myself for some naked tourists.

The Garden of Eden is a rooftop deck with towels on the benches and a closed off space on the side where you can get your whole body painted.  Two middle aged women were in there getting painted and they looked amazing.  Two completely naked men were shaking literally everything on the dance floor to "Shut Up and Dance".  Every man in there was naked, all the women were clothed.  We stood and looked around, not sure how long of a glance we could give any given person, and I wondered where people put their clothes.  Were there lockers?

As I was wondering this, a guy with a Welsh accent came up to me and asked what was going on.  Apparently he had been downstairs with his mother and grandfather and someone had told him to check out upstairs.  They just didn't tell him about the clothing optional part.  He was scared and confused and I took that opportunity to ask him about my guilty pleasure British reality show, The Only Way is Essex.  After telling me that the cast 'were all wankers, every single one', we all went back downstairs and we helped his family get an Uber home.  We watched their car pull up and immediately drive away.  We watched it drive by again.  Claudia looked at her phone and it said that the guy had picked up his passengers.  They were just the wrong passengers.  Unable to cancel the trip, Claud tried calling the driver but he hung up on her.  Then Jil took the phone and texted the guy.

'You have the wrong passengers.  We tried calling you.  Cancel the trip. 
Make it happen.  We're walking.'

A moment later Claudia got a confirmation that the trip was canceled.

Boom.

We ended the night at another bar and were all exhausted and realized we had stayed out too late.  Back to the hotel we went, with Jil's and my bags still smelling faintly of rooster.

This One Time, In Key West... PART TWO - TRAINS, DRAG, & SELFIE STICKS)

So here we were.  Waking up Saturday morning in Key West, all in one piece.  After losing the previous afternoon and night to traveling, we were determined to fit in as much as we could during our remaining two days.  After an ever-nourishing breakfast at IHOP, we boarded the shuttle for town and bought tickets for a train tour.  We figured as we rode around we could pick and choose what destinations we wanted to go to that day.

One of the great things about Key West is the open container law.  It allowed us to always have a refreshing beverage in our hands no matter where we were.  You can even get a beer at one bar and bring it into the next.  This was great for those of us who don't drink a lot, as we didn't have to order a new beer at every place that we went to.

We hit a bar as we waited for the train and then poured the rest of our drinks in cups and boarded the cutest little trolley with the cutest little driver.  He took us all around and gave great commentary.  The four of us girls sat in the very back (as only the coolest of kids do), and we eventually gave in to Jil's requests to take a picture of us all wearing the paper train conductor hats the ticket lady gave us.

Oh, quick side note: Claudia mentioned that morning that she had forgotten to pack her selfie stick.  We immediately proceeded to make fun of her, and I believe I made a comment about how I would rather get back on a plane than be caught dead taking a picture with one of those things.  She tried to explain how useful they are, but we were all like, "Psssh, nooooo Claudia, you're wrooooong".  Needless to say, she went into the gift shop next to the ticket stand for the train and bought a selfie stick.  It was pink.  It was large when extended.

It was a lifesaver.

Granted, it took us awhile to figure out how to use it, but by the end of the first day we were pros.  We took this thing EVERYWHERE and used it a million times.  Please enjoy the photos below that first show Carol, Jil, and I very confused about Claud's instructions on how to use it, and then show how useful that little pink sucker was:

"Wait, what?  There's a button?  WHAT'S GOING ON?"

Cheese, suckers

Ok, back to the story.

After getting off of the train we decided that our first stop would be to Ernest Hemingway's house which thrilled me to the core because, while I think he's a shit writer (sorry every English teacher I've ever had), I was still interested to see how he lived and worked.

We entered the house, which was BEAUTIFUL, and tagged along on a tour that was about to start.  Our tour guide was amazing.  She was funny and knowledgeable and didn't hold back on telling us about old Ernie's affairs and affinity towards the glug glug.  It was amazing to walk through and see the books that he read and the glasses that he drank out of and the typewriters scattered around.  We also realized that not only was Hemingway a stone cold fox when he was younger, but he was also a silver haired god when he was older.  The consensus was, 'Yeah, I'd hit that'.

The Sun Also Rises in my pants, amirite?

There were also cats.  Oh good lord were there cats.  6-toed cats to be exact, 55 of them.  They were on the bed, napping in the sink, wandering around their little village of mini wooden houses.  They all were named after celebrities, like Marilyn Monroe and Humphrey Bogart.  Jil was beside herself with the adorableness of it all, and I was beside myself with an allergy attack.

The best part was after the tour, when we could go up and see the studio where he wrote.  It was the only part of the house that was completely untouched, and there were black, wrought iron bars keeping you from fully walking in.  But to see where this man sat and thought and wrote and daydreamed, it was incredible.  There was still a piece of paper in his typewriter (whether that was staged or not I'm unsure of, but I'm going to pretend it was real).

After leaving the Hemingway House, we shopped and we ate and we became quite familiar with how oppressively hot Key West was.  I'm freezing if it's below 80 degrees so I loved every second of it- it was sticky and muggy and sexy and I was in heaven.  Whenever we got too hot we would just duck into a store which are all air conditioned, or stand by a fan outside a restaurant.  After a few hours we decided to head back to the hotel and watch some TV like god damn Americans.

While waiting for the shuttle back, a group of youths came up and began a fight right in front of us.  They were drunk, they were yelling, the girls were trying to calm down the boys, the boys all had ridiculously bright shorts on.  Eventually the drunkest guy sat by a tree a few feet away from me and promptly began to vomit.  Claudia turned to me and suggested that I maaaaybe not look in that direction.

As our shuttle arrived the girls pulled out a plastic bag for the kid to continue puking in, which the wind immediately picked up and took out of her hands.  It flew into the street, and one of the guys ran out after it, right into traffic.  Everyone stopped and one of the girls finally asked, "Did he, like, get run over?"

He did not.

They then walked towards our shuttle and us girls looked at each other, hoping this jackhole was not going to be getting on our ride and ralphing all over our good time.  Luckily our shuttle was just for our hotel, so the gaggle of idiots got on another trolley.

After our relaxing break in the hotel room, we got ready for our first night out.  We got dressed and brushed our hair and put on some makeup.  Claudia, my fellow blonde, got this powder to fill in her eyebrows, as sometimes people with lighter hair can look like they have no eyebrows or eyelashes which is just plain silly.  She asked if I wanted to try it and I was all, hell yes!

She showed me how to put it on and I felt like a new lady.  The other three girls approved so we grabbed our bags and the selfie stick (I feel like we should have named it, considering it ended up practically being the 5th person on our trip) and walked out of the hotel to catch the shuttle.  It promptly started pouring.

We come from the school of tongues, not duck face

 But did that stop us?  No!  We had overcome the plane ride from hell and the car ride from some other hell!  We were unstoppable!  We were ready!  WE HAD EYEBROWS DAMMIT!!!

We hit a bar called Sloppy Joe's that someone had suggested to Carol.  It was super crowded so we decided to just grab some walking beers there and move on.  The girl behind the bar asked for me and Claud's IDs, and when she saw how old her were she looked at us, then back down at our licenses, then back up at us.

"Damn!" she said, as all four of us look roughly ten years younger than we actually are.

Our next stop was Irish Kevin's where we happily realized that we weren't the oldest people in the bar.  There was a guy on stage playing guitar and singing and he would bring up people who had on a bachelorette sash or a birthday crown, and pour liquor down their throats.  Then we realized that mentally, maybe we were the oldest people in the bar because we gagged just at the thought of taking a shot of anything.

We used to be cool, I swear.  We used to stay out past 10, and drink all night, and not wear sweatpants to the bar.

From there we hit the main event of the night: A drag show.

Jil and Claud have been to them before but Carol and I were downright penis tucking virgins.  We met one of the performers outside, Miss Sheeva, promptly became best friends with her, and took a picture of all of us (she even found the picture on Facebook that night and commented on how nice it was to meet us.  Be still my heart).  Her makeup sparkled like the Times Square New Year's Eve ball and she had a better rack than I'll ever have.

We went inside and grabbed seats right at the front of the stage.  While we were waiting for the show to start, the announcer and head performer came around to talk to us.  She came up to us with her microphone and began asking me where we were from when she suddenly stopped at stared at me.

"Your eyebrows are amaaazing," she said as she took a finger and firmly wiped it across my newly powdered brow.

"Don't wipe it off, they're fake!" I cried as the rest of the girls burst out laughing.

"Oh shit!" the host laughed, before putting her arm around me and saying, "Girl, I know how that goes."

I told her we were from Philly and she told us that she has a cousin who lives in King of Prussia, by that "big, crazy ass mall".

The show was amazing.  AMAZING.  We stuffed dollar bills in the girls' outfits and sung and danced and had the best time.  By 1:30am the show still wasn't over, but our tired old asses decided to go home.

She slayed, she sashayed, she wiped my eyebrows off

 We got an Uber home and collapsed into bed.  Four girls, seven eyebrows.

This One Time, In Key West... (PART ONE - GETTING THERE)

Key West 2017

The Cast:

Jil: Key West aficionado and mother to the shmooshiest little girl you ever did meet.

Claudia: Brave as hell, bruises like a peach; had the foresight to pack a power strip, medicine for tummies, nerves, sleep, etc., as well as sunscreen with an SPF so high it would prevent a burn even if you were sitting on the sun itself.

Carol: Hardcore on the outside, heart of gold on the inside.  Hates carrying a bag and loves a good steak.

Alexis: Your faithful storyteller who always has to pee.

The Tale:

We've known each other for years- the longest being 25 years, the shortest being 15.  Still, the four of us have never gone away on vacation together.  Sure, we've talked about trips; but then moving and relationships and babies and jobs began keeping us busy.  It wasn't until a few months ago when Jil and I were sitting on my porch- drowning our respective sorrows in wine- that we decided to just do it.  Jil goes to Key West every year and had racked up a bunch of airline miles and hotel savings, so we texted Claud and Carol on the spot, figured out the one weekend that worked for everyone, and before you knew it everything was booked.

Easy, right?  The sign of a stress free getaway, right?  RIGHT?!

The morning of vacation arrived.  Jil slept over my place the night before, and Carol slept over Claudia's.  As our alarm went off at 4am, I rolled out of bed and told Jil to brace herself because I was going to turn on the light.

"NOOOOO", she moaned form beneath the covers.

"It's the only way", I replied, flicking on the switch.  I was halfway through the living room when I heard Jil yell out, "GAHHHH, YOU WHORE!!!".

Apparently Carol didn't have it much better at Claudia's house, as Claud programmed her alarm to automatically turn on all the lights when it goes off.

Everything aside, Claud and Carol arrived at my apartment at 4:30 and we drove to the airport.  It has become a running joke that Claudia always gets searched by the TSA.  I'm convinced it's because they see a pretty blonde with boobs for days, but who can really say.  We arrived at the airport, checked our bags, and then walked to the end of the longest line I had ever seen in my life.  This thing zigged, this thing zagged, this thing reached all the way down to the end of the airport.  Fortunately it moved pretty quickly and as we went through the metal detectors, for the first time in a long time Claudia was spared a pat down, a finger printing, and a general caressing by a uniformed government official.  We took this as a sign that, again, this trip was going to go off without a hitch.

We were in high spirits and we grabbed some breakfast and waited to be boarded.  We watched the sun rise over the Philly skyline, and even Carol admitted it looked pretty.  As we got on the plane, Jil mentioned she preferred the aisle seat, and no one seemed to want the window seat so I happily obliged.  I've only flown three other times in my life, the last time being seven years ago.  The first leg of our trip was fine, even though we now had a layover in Atlanta because the airline we chose, while cheap, is also an asshole and changed our nonstop flight to a direct flight.  So while we had a layover, we just got back on the same plane.

The plan was to land in Ft. Lauderdale around noon and then drive our rental car down to Key West, getting there sometime between 3 and 4 o'clock.

That was the plan.

As we approached Ft. Lauderdale I remember looking out the window and thinking how pretty the clouds looked.  It was like a quilt of white, with what looked like little kernels of puffy popcorn popping up here and there.  I took a picture to remember it because it just seemed so peaceful and still.

Moments before all hell broke loose

As we began our descent, we heard the wheels go down, which is always Jil's favorite sound because she hates flying.  But then it got very dark.  The plane started shaking and for a split second I forgot that I was in the sky because I'm so accustomed to any bumpiness being from the road while I'm in a car.  On the ground.  Where humans are supposed to be.

The shaking intensified and as if on cue, everyone in the plane threw out their arms and braced themselves on the seat in front of them.  It felt like we were in a snow globe and some maniacal, shitty little kid was shaking it with all of his might.

After what was maybe 2 or 3 minutes- which is a lifetime in turbulence years- we straightened out.  Carol reached for her air sickness bag, "just in case".

The pilot came on the speaker and told us that there was bad weather around the airport and visibility was down to zero.  Air traffic control wouldn't allow any planes to land, so the pilot told us we were going to circle one more time and then land.

It felt like the plane went sideways and we circled around the storm.  Almost immediately we were caught in another bought of turbulence, only this time a much longer, much more violent bought.  I heard a woman scream and looked over to find that it was Jil.  Tears were streaming down her face as Carol stuffed her face into her barf bag.  My immediate response- due to my severe fear of anything having to do with throw up- was to put my hood up, close my eyes, and plug my fingers in my ears, as poor Carol was thrown around like a rag doll next to me, desperately trying to keep her lunch down.

The only way that I can truly try to describe the whole situation is to relate it to those scenes in TV and movies; the ones right before the plane goes down.

I've noticed that as I've grown older, I tend to feel more calm than anything else when faced with a scary or dangerous situation.  As I sat there with my head down and my ears covered, everything in my head went kind of silent and I remember trying to figure out if I was scared or not.  I remember thinking about Kirby and thinking about Matt, and thinking about how if something did happen, I would never get to get married or have babies.  I thought about who I would call if we did go down, and I decided on Matt.  The idea of calling my mom made me feel too sad.

We finally straightened out again and as I was opening my eyes I heard Jil say, "Fuck you, Claudia".  I looked over to see Claudia laughing and taking a picture of us (remember when I said she was brave?).  Here are the two pictures she took, the first of which shows the intensity of the shaking, as she couldn't even hold her camera still, and the second shows Jil mid "fuck you".  These of course aren't the most flattering pictures and by no means convey the sheer violence of what we just went through, but they give the general idea:

Still able to throw out a good 'ol Fuck You, even in the midst of a crisis

At this point we had no idea where in the sky we were, how close to the ground we were, if we were ascending or descending, or what was happening.  Nobody was telling us anything.  I lifted up the window shade just a crack and saw that we were close enough to the ground that I could actually see people walking around.  Getting in their cars, casually strolling into a store; people below going about their every day lives, with their feet wallowing in the luxury of pavement and grass.

'We're going to land,' I thought to myself as I closed the shade and wiped my absolutely sweat-drenched hands on my pants.  Seconds later, the plane began to shake again.  Not as bad as the second time, but worse than the first time.  All of a sudden- and I know that sounds like a cliche phrase but there is really no other way to put it- our plane shot straight up into the air with more force than I have ever felt before.  It felt like our backs were completely parallel to the ground and in no more than a few seconds, we went from being a couple of miles from the ground, to high above the clouds.  We all clutched onto the seats in front of us once again, as Carol and her bag resumed position.  I laid my forehead against my arm and just started to cry.  I don't often cry in public, as I am one of those people who likes to keep everything bottled up inside until I can unfairly erupt in a fit of anger and tears on some poor soul who had nothing to do with it.

I was so frustrated and just could not believe that we were doing this again.  One time was scary, two times was terrifying, three times was unbearable.

The plane righted itself and we continued on in silence, still not sure where we were going or what the pilot was doing.  There were no announcements, no available stewardesses (as they were all strapped in for dear life at the front and back of the plane), nothing.

Then it got sunny.

After what I would guess was maybe twenty minutes, our pilot finally came over the intercom and told us that we couldn't land, so we were heading up to Orlando.  UP.  Not the navigational direction any of us wanted to be going.

"I knew it," Jil said, "It got too sunny.  I knew he was taking us to freaking Orlando".

The pilot also told us that we needed to refuel, since he apparently used it all up CIRCLING THE SEVENTH LEVEL OF HELL THREE TIMES.

We flew to Orlando, landed, and were told to stay on the plane as they filled out paperwork and figured out what they were supposed to do.  Then they listed off all of the connecting flights that fellow passengers had now missed.  Everyone got on their phones to call people and let them know they would not be meeting them in Ft. Lauderdale.  The girl in front of me told the person on the other end of her phone that she was in Orlando.

"No, I didn't land in Orlando," she said in frustration, "the PLANE landed in Orlando".

We sat and we sat.  We sat for close to an hour with no announcements, no water, no food.  Everyone got up to stretch and a line for the bathroom formed, with two of the stewards manning the door.

"Just out of curiosity," Jil asked one of them, "What's the worst flight you guys have ever been on?"

"We've been at this job for ten years," he said, "and this is the worst flight we've ever been on".

Soon after, Claudia and I were talking to one of the guys.  He was pissed.

"I don't know why we didn't just fly straight back up to Orlando after the first time.  Instead he circled three times and put us through all of that".

Back at our seats, the four of us girls tried to devise a game plan.

"Let's just rent a car here and drive," Jil said, as she did not want to be on an airplane for another minute.  We considered this until Claudia brought up a good point-

"All of our shit is checked in the bottom of this plane.  If we drive, we'll have to wait at the Ft. Lauderdale airport for this plane to finally arrive with our bags, if it ever even does arrive."

"I don't care about my shit", Jil said.

Carol and I looked at each other.

"I kind of care about my shit," I whispered to her.  She nodded.  "I like my shit." she whispered back.

Our pilot of the year (although I do realize he was just following instructions), came back on overhead and told us that we would be trying Ft. Lauderdale one more time, we still just had to sit tight, but at the moment the weather looked to be clearing up.

"THEN LET'S GO NOW!" the plane practically shouted in unison.

There was a bachelorette party in front of us that was heading to Miami.  They got up, grabbed their bags from the overhead compartments, and announced, "We're making this a road trip ladies!"

As Jil urged us to make this a road trip as well, the rest of us pointed out that an hour plane ride was better than a 15 hour car ride, and what were the chances of there being turbulence again?  And if there was, we had gotten through the worst- literally the next thing would be for us to crash and die and we wouldn't remember that anyway.

We had all gotten slightly delirious at this point.

A few minutes later the bachelorette party climbed back on board the plane.

"I cornered a lady and told her it was bullshit that nobody was telling us anything, and she promised me that we're landing," said the spokesperson of the group, who still managed to have a perfect bun and face of makeup on.  They sat down as the pilot's voice appeared once again and told us that we were going to take off soon, it was going to be a bumpy ride, and that the entire crew would have to remain seated and strapped in throughout the duration of the flight.

I took out my phone and texted Matt.
'Taking off again.  Very scared to fly.  I love you.'

Just in case anything horrible did happen, I needed him to know that.  

About an hour later, and just a few small spots of shakes and bumps, we landed at our destination and the entire plane erupted in cheers and applause.

After getting off of the plane, we bypassed baggage and went straight outside to fresh air, where we saw fellow passengers from our flight shakily chain smoking.  Eventually we went back inside, got our bags, and headed over to the shuttle that would take us to the car rental place.  We just missed one as we walked up.  Then it started raining a little bit, as we waited and waited and waited for the next shuttle.  I heard the lady behind me say that never in her life has she ever had to wait for one; they're supposed to come right after the other.  Finally one arrived, as well as a line of buses behind it.  We got to the car place, and finally were on our way.  The only problem is that it was now 5:00 on a Friday on Florida's main turnpike (remember when we were supposed to be in Key West by 3:00?)

We sat in traffic.  Then we moved a little.  Then we sat.  Then we moved.  Then we realized that nobody in Florida uses turn signals, and they all think it's a jolly old time to cut people off.  Then we sat.

Finally we got off the turnpike and pulled into the first fast food place that we saw for some Road Nuggets.  We walked into Burger King and Claudia went to open the bathroom door, not realizing the cleaning lady was inside.  The lady dropped something and it made a loud noise, and Claudia jumped out of her fucking skin.  Our plane falling from the goddam sky had no effect on her, but a tiny Floridian custodian nearly did her in.

Road Nugs: Washing away the memories of aerial terror since the Wright Brothers

We got back in the car, not even caring that, according to the GPS, our 3 hour car ride was now going to be a 5-6 hour car ride.  No sooner had we hit the road than the skies opened up and more water than you could ever imagine feverishly poured down upon our poor, weary souls.  All you could see were the taillights in front of you- you couldn't even pull over because it was impossible to tell where 'over' was.

We drove and we drove.  It rained and it didn't.  We drove some more.  It rained some more.  We all wanted a beer.  Carol stated that if she didn't get a steak she was going to kill someone.

We didn't doubt her.

At 9:30 that night, we finally arrived at our hotel, after 17 straight hours of travel.  Carol got her steak. We got our beers.  Later in bed Carol started hysterically laughing, then slightly crying, then laughing again because she could not believe what we had just gone through.  That night we slept better than any of us had in years.

Welcome to Key West, bitches.

The first picture we took that day, around 5:30am or so.  Look how fresh faced and naive we were.  Fools, every single one of us

Us as we arrived in our hotel room.  Notice our near lifeless eyes and weathered, aged faces. Yay vacation?