Everybody Loves Florida, Except Me.


I’ve been traveling to “the place I don’t want to be”, Florida, for the past 12 years. My parents and in-laws have condos, which are within ten minutes walking distance from each other. When we go on vacation, my husband, kids and I stay at my parents’ condo and the in-laws stay in theirs, of course. My parents’ vacation and ours do not coincide.

My husband has only one fault: he loves his parents and brother too much. They own a family business together, we live on the same street as the brother, and we all vacation together. My husband says, “We have to do things together as a family.”

I detest these family vacations! Why can’t it be just the four of us? Why do we always vacation with them? They’re nice people, but I don’t want to spend every waking minute with them! I always have to do what they want! Also, because it’s a condo, not a hotel, I have to cook, clean and wash the dishes. I don’t want to do housework on vacation, I do that at home! Why do we always go to Florida? I want to go somewhere else!

Below are highlights of our adventures:

Traveling on a plane - our twins were eight months old. Their ears were clogged, they were shrieking in stereo, and the passengers were exasperated. Upon arrival, the in-laws wanted to have lunch at the mall. At home, when I wanted to go to the mall, my husband said no because of germs. The in-laws say let’s go to the mall, and suddenly it’s sterile. We took the bus since we had no car. I thought we’d return to the beach after lunch, but the brother’s wife wanted to shop. We spent the afternoon at the mall, and missed the perfect weather. Finally, we took the bus back. There was an accident; we spent three hours on the bus with eight-month-old babies!

Our big happy family traveling in a van. The departure was at 7am, the in-laws arrived early, started rushing us, and stressing me. I was ready at 7:15. The brother’s family wasn’t. We left around 8am. The moment we departed, my mother- in-law started offering food. She does this every five minutes. Annoying! She even called the granddaughter on the cell phone to offer her an egg.

Meeting for breakfast at 7am at the hotel, departure at 8am. We were on time, but the brother wasn’t. We called at 7:15, no answer; 7:30 no answer. We knocked on the door at 7:40. They just woke up! This happens all the time! We’re always waiting for him and the in-laws rush me! One time, the brother and his parents missed the plane to Aruba because he’s so slow.

It was my children’s birthday that day. They wanted to stop for a fancy lunch. Nobody else wanted to; everybody wanted to get to the beach. I convinced the kids we’ll go to dinner, and for lunch, we’ll eat burgers. Upon seeing his cheeseburger, my son said “I don’t want cheese. I hate you, Mom.” The brother and his wife were smirking. My mother-in-law laughed. I wanted to cry, and to suffocate them. They shouldn’t be witnessing my family drama. I loathe having them around all the time!

Going to a show at the boardwalk. The brother wanted to take a walk instead. After the show, we found them dining at a restaurant. I have to do things together with the family, but they do what they want! The slow-poke has no consideration for his parents and brother! While waiting for them to finish, we went walking. Twenty minutes later, my husband received a call, and announced, “Let’s go, everybody’s waiting for us.” “We waited for your brother!” I hollered furiously.

I cooked every day. Finally, his parents wanted to go out to a restaurant. I asserted I want to go somewhere else. My husband replied, “My mother wants to go to this restaurant.” “What about what I want? I don’t ask you for anything. I want to eat what I want after cooking and doing housework on my vacation. Why is your mother more important?” However, I didn’t say that; I just walked away. Tears were suffocating me. I gazed at the luminous sunshine, the cerulean lukewarm ocean, the cushiony café-au-lait colored sand. I detested, abhorred and loathed it all! I wish I had more than 750 words to express how I felt.



H Boyarsky

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