Another important question while on vacation: Are we having any fun? Good question. Our cruise continued. We had ended our five-island itinerary and begun the long steam back to Miami.
I was ready to go home. Meanwhile I found a book in the library titled “Cosmic Queries,” by Neil deGrasse Tyson and I was more than happy to curl up on our balcony in the peace and quiet of the ship and just read.
The wind had died completely as if to beckon the ship back to the U.S. It was heavenly reading on the balcony while cutting through the smooth mirror of sea. A good book beats most everything.
The ocean was unusually flat on the last three days of our cruise. It is rare that I have seen the sea so still, not even one crest broke the next few days throughout my entire port vista of blue.
A group of dolphins swam by and waved their dorsal fins at me. They stayed with our ship for some time before turning away. It was thrilling to see their shiny bodies break the surface. They must have wondered at the sight of the “Vista,” who knows, perhaps even more than I wondered about them.
I thought their glimpses of us living in our oxygenized world must mystify them as much as we are in wonder of outer space, our galaxy, universe and the unknown beyond.
The late British scientist, Stephen Hawking, in his book, “The Universe,” theorized there must be millions of universes beyond ours and theorized they may all be interconnected rather like bubbles clinging together in tightly knit clumps.
We know so much about how our universe and galaxy were formed and how life started and evolved on earth. But we still don’t know what was there before the so called “Big Bang” explosion that created our universe more than 13 billion years ago.
It seems the more we learn about our existence from science, the more mystery continues. This gave me much to ponder as I sat for hours alone on my balcony reading and waiting for another glimpse of dolphins in front of nothing but sea, horizon and sky.
That is what is so splendid about cruising at sea. One is totally alone. Besides the dolphins, I only saw one seagull fly by, close enough for me to see his manic red-rimmed eye take in the ship and only because we were passing an island close enough for a bird to venture a visit.
But we passed many ships along the way that shot up suddenly over the horizon — freighters carrying containers bearing supplies for future ports and cruise ships. I never spotted a military ship or even a small sailing vessel while we were at sea.
We arrived in Miami at 6 a.m., on the first Sunday in March. Why planes, trains and ships arrive at such ungodly times I have never understood. Yet “Vista” had the most organized disembarkation program of our past cruises and it actually wasn’t too bad.
It helped that we were the first of four cruise ships returning to Miami that day, so we were ahead of the mass of passengers that had to be cleared.
We were served our usual breakfast in our staterooms and called to pass through customs and immigration by 8 a.m. They called groups according to flight departures so since our flight boarded at noon our group went first through customs to be bused to the Miami airport.
The vacation was over. A pall settled over us. We trudged to our awaiting buses headed for the airport with the enthusiasm of what I imagined of illegals being returned to their homeland.
The Miami traffic, even on a Sunday morning, was horrendous. The airport was what I could only describe as a madhouse filled with exhausted people from every country in the world jabbering away in every language. There were not enough chairs and exhausted people were sprawled on the floor with their belongings spread about them, if they were lucky, leaning against a wall for support.
We were saved by United Airlines after a walk that seemed like miles rolling our luggage behind us and wrestling with handheld luggage. We never spotted a Red Cap.
Like at Dulles Airport, we were expected to check ourselves and luggage in using a kiosk, but an agent saw us struggling and came to our assistance.
United had a handicapped area to sit down. I sat down next to a priest. We chatted about how tired we were. I considered asking him to perform last rites for me, but decided perhaps I could survive the flight to Dulles and drive back to Urbanna.
After I caught my breath, United wheeled me with Chip walking next to me through hellishly long lines at security and to our faraway gate.
The wheelchair service saved me. I didn’t feel as embarrassed or self-conscious as I did with my first experience last year in a wheelchair while touring a museum. At first I felt shame that my legs would give out on me on occasion, but now I was just grateful for the assistance.
The plane was on time and we made it back to Dulles without delay. There we found our baggage and took the Hilton van to Dulles Hilton, where we picked up our car that had been parked there for two weeks and drove back home to Urbanna.
This was the worst part of the trip, because even on Sunday evening the traffic out of Dulles and all the way to Fredericksburg was bumper to bumper.
It was heavenly to finally exit 95 and drive down a deserted U.S. Route 17 as dusk settled upon the Rappahannock River valley. Our daughter, Liz, had already departed our home with her two labs but had left the house lit up for us. “Dandy” met us at the front gate with his usual waggling tail and the cats meowed when they saw us walking toward the house.
All was well. I was happy to be home. My last advice to readers is, if you like to go places and see things, travel early in life, because when you hit the 80s you might very well rather stay home.
(Conclusion.)
