Skiing is one of my favorite things in the world, though it is sometimes repetitive. The cold weather, high altitude, and radical snowboarders sometimes get to you. Therefore, for years I have been begging my parents for a tropical vacation free of snow machines and ski lodge food. Finally, this summer, I set off on an adventure to the beautiful islands of the Bahamas. The trip looked stress free, a pleasant experience before school started. My mother neglected to mention a vital part of the trip that certainly made paradise a little more interesting: my 84 year-old grandmother desired to accompany us. There were several factors which made me believe that grandma would never crave to go to an island. She despises airplanes, doesn’t trust them. She abhors water and can’t swim. The heat makes her feel queasy. But, nevertheless, she joined us and the tranquil vacation turned haywire.
We flew out of JFK the day of our trip on a Jet Blue flight. Grandma insisted on holding my mother’s hand and mine throughout taxiing and takeoff. It was awkward considering that mom’s hand was across the aisle. During the remainder of the flight grandma watched TV, and every time she talked, she shouted because she had headphones on. While I was reading my book, “Dreams From my Father,” by Barack Obama, grandma (a Republican) picked up the book, and shouted “phooey-looey!” I decided that during the trip I would get comeuppance against her. After the flight, we took a bus to our stunning resort, Atlantis, ate an overpriced dinner and went to bed after some exploring.
On the second day of the trip, I felt that justice should be served to the Republican who insolently interrupted my reading. Grandmother asked me for a tee-shirt since she had nothing but blouses. I concurred and told her to shut her eyes as I gave her the shirt. The shirt read “Obama 08.” She complained but I argued that I had nothing else to lend her. For the entire day, grandma, a strong conservative waltzed around the resort wearing the shirt. She received several compliments which she insisted were all cynical. During that day, I also convinced her that she needed to be taught how to swim. So, I plopped her in one of the eleven pools and demonstrated a stroke. When I told her to try, she did everything but lift her feet off the bottom. Essentially, she wasn’t swimming.
I suppose that grandma felt that she had to redeem herself. So, the last day she did two incredibly dare devilish, in her opinion, acts. She ventured on a virtually flat five foot water slide into a kiddy pool that took her ten minutes to go down while a poor five year-old waited patiently for his turn at the top. Later in the day, she went out on a paddle boat regulated by my mother. Grandma was wearing a life preserver which she was sure could not save her if she plummeted into the water. Throughout the boat ride, I pointed out several fish in the lagoon. About thirty seconds after I noticed them, grandma would scream “Hey look a fish!” We recorded many videos and pictures that day.
Throughout the entire vacation, similar things happened such as grandma “taking pictures” of us swimming with dolphins but instead managing close-ups of her face (she had the camera the wrong way). But in the end, I tried to look past all of the odd times and loved my grandma for who she is: a crazy lady, who loves me.
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