Miami Airport was as big and difficult to traverse for two octogenarians as Dulles. But after the long hike to baggage to retrieve luggage we were delighted to see a man holding up a sign for “Vista Cruise Line.” He was to take us to the Ritz Hotel in Coconut Grove to rest up to check in to our cruise the next day.
We entered his black Cadillac van and soon learned he was a proud Cuban-American who had escaped with his parents as a child from Cuba during the revolution and settled in Miami. He was a fervent Trump man and warned us about the evil of communism, which he said was slowly surrounding the free world.
He had started a transit business and put his own two children through college, “One is studying to be a doctor now and the other is a physician’s aide,” he said proudly, “and I am living the American dream.”
I thought again of our polarized population and that people either loved or hated Trump. There seemed no in between. (I am not wild about politicians, I merely pay my taxes, accept results of elections with stoicism and tolerate everyone. I am grateful, however, that we finally have someone energetic and on the job every day as president.)
Regardless, I wanted to get to my room and rest after the long day. But our room wasn’t ready. We suddenly realized we were hungry. I remembered eating a roll a long time ago as the sun was coming up at Dulles airport.
We had lunch in the Ritz palm tree-studded outdoor patio with large fans hidden behind the greenery keeping us cool. I had shed my winter clothes for a summer dress as it was hot and humid, a massive change from the morning cold of Virginia.
When we finally got to our room, we collapsed on beds and napped. We wanted to be rested for what we knew would be hectic check-in along with 1,200 other passengers to our ship the next morning.
I got to laughing thinking of how tired we were on our first day of vacation and just from the flight to Miami and that now we had to rest for the next stretch. I thought maybe that we were too old to travel.
That night we learned another lesson about changing times. Hotels no longer “call you a taxi.” You “line up an Uber” for yourself. We did not know how to do this, so we called our daughter, Liz, in Urbanna, to line up a ride for us to a neighborhood seafood restaurant.
The restaurant was open walled with thatched roofs right next to a marina. We saw we were surrounded by boats. I don’t mean boats like we have in Urbanna’s harbor but yachts … huge Miami yachts, the kind we figured that cost well over a million dollars.
We enjoyed wine and Gulf shrimp until the heavens opened and torrents of water came crashing down upon us. We learned thatched roofs are no good in rain and … ran like rabbits for cover.
The once warm evening had turned cold. We stood wet and shivering. We called Liz once again for an Uber. Within minutes a text came over my cell phone. It read “Jesus will be coming for you shortly.”
I was stunned. But just then the Uber driver whose name was Jesus pulled up in a black van. We hopped in his car and went off with him and back to the hotel. I gave him a big tip.
The next morning the cruise line bus was already waiting for us at the front of the hotel as we were finishing breakfast and we had to hurry to get packed and on the bus. Off we went through heavy Wednesday morning rush traffic to the port of Miami and our ship.
The Vista of the Oceania Cruise Line was a beauty. She stood shimmering white in aqua waters under the bright Florida sun waiting and ready to go. She was brand new, having been built in Italy in 2023 and designed only for 1,200 passengers as compared to other ships that stood in the water like giant condominiums and housed 3,000 to 5,000 passengers — floating monsters, which made cruising (in my mind) a nightmare. Still, 1,200 passengers would not be easy for someone like me that enjoys being alone and each day would be a challenge.
Check-in for cruises are traditionally horrendous with long slow-moving lines and security checks as stringent as airports. Oceania did a better job at moving us through check-in and onto the ship than any other cruise I have experienced.
We were soon in our teeny, tiny stateroom which they called a suite, with me remarking that it did not seem possible that any two human beings, let alone husband and wife, could possibly live in peace together in such a small cabin. However, we had paid for “suite and concierge,” so this enabled us to enjoy a large semi-private living room and snack area next door with daily newspapers and giant TV whenever we wanted to escape our stateroom. (Thank goodness we had booked this extra perk which came with free wine at meals and $600 worth of island packaged tours.)
But before I could flop on my bed and rest, the PA system blared out that we needed to watch the safety video on our TV screen and report to our lifeboat station so that we would know in an emergency where to go to be saved if the ship were sinking. On the way back I checked in at reception and picked up a supply of seasick pills.
I had a funny feeling and we were still at the dock. The funny feeling really wasn’t funny. It was a sense of dizziness that somehow my feet weren’t solidly planted on earth. I felt a tilt of sorts. It suggested misery to come.
I swallowed two pills and fell on my bed. Time for a quick nap, I was sure I would feel better at 6 p.m. when our ship was slated to depart from Miami to the awaiting rolling blue ocean and Paradise. (To be continued.)
© 2025.
