Things in Erin’s Head 

 

I’m a huge Law and Order fan #LennyForever. Many years ago, I found myself sloppy drunk in the back of a limo with about six other girls celebrating my cousin, the bride-to-be. As the limo crawled to a stop at 3 o’clock in the morning along the shoulder of the Jersey Turnpike (or some other ominous “pike” in the New York tri-state area), one of the girls said, “Oh my God, this is like the opening scene of a really bad Law and Order episode.”

The next time I felt that way was at the end of 2023 in Freeport on the Island of Grand Bahama. We had taken a little two-day cruise with the family on Margaritaville at Sea and splurged on a swim with the pigs excursion. What the cruise company failed to mention (I have gone back to their page to re-read the excursion details and nope – it’s not there) is that it’s a FIVE HOUR excursion. I’m not sure I know anyone who would make the conscious choice to swim with pigs for five hours, because #PigPoop, and the beach time actually may have been really enjoyable. Except… 

It was FA-REE-ZING on Crystal Beach. When I say “freezing” I mean it was well blow 70 and before I hear anyone tell me that’s NOT freezing, A) I was in the Bahamas, not the Arctic; B) I hate to be cold, get a chill, wear layers, long sleeves, or pants; C) I am one of those sick people who keeps their AC at home set to 77 degrees; C) there was no indoor shelter. It was also overcast and windy. Had there been sun, or no wind, the sixty something temperatures would have been tolerable. So there were five Copelans, lined in beach chairs, cocooned in towels with hoodies, shivering their pigtails off.

At the beginning of the tour, “Rollie,” the driver of our big red bus, told us our bus number, when he was coming to get us (five hours later), and to be sure not to accidentally get on the wrong bus.

(here comes the kidnapping part)

After about thirty minutes of feeding pigs apples (but not swimming with them because #freezing) and five more hours to go, a few of the forty-seven whiny north Americans decided to figure out a way off this powdery sand iceberg. My husband asked if we could at least sit on the bus until it was time to go and Rollie was in fact NOT coming back for us, that a different driver was going to come a little earlier in a blue bus. Another woman heard a version that Rollie was in fact coming back, but a blue bus was coming early to retrieve the thin blooded Floridians.

At the four and a half hour mark a blue bus appeared and we just started to pile in…

Ladies and Gentlemen, I kid you not, it was an adult version of a white van with puppies inside.

Because you see, there was no official announcement. Just murmurings like a game of telephone between beach chairs. We followed ZERO instructions. People filed into the wrong color bus where we had no idea where we were actually going, or with who, and at the wrong time. But it was a bus and there was a promise of candy (oops I mean warmth) inside.

Anyone could have taken us anywhere my friends.

Our new driver, Kevin (who turned out to be our savior and not a serial killer) drove us safely back to the port where we were met with hot showers, long pants, and a nap under some very strong blankets.

I will admit, I was left wondering if anyone was left behind. 

Have you ever been on a tour gone awry? I’d love to hear about it! 

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