Last week, I started making plans for my 30th birthday. I know it’s not until October, but this is a big milestone, it’s my golden birthday, and it’s “my” age.
Whether she wants to admit it or not, every woman has an age she is looking forward to turning. For some, it is the traditional milestones, like 16 or 21; for me, it’s 30. To me, 30 is the age at which a person becomes a legit adult. They leave the insecurities, quarter-life crises, and bullshit of their twenties behind, and magically transform into these cool, calm, collected, confident adults. They are on some sort of stable career path, they feel confident in their own skin, and are ready to settle down and start the next chapter of their lives, whether it’s marriage and babies or buying real estate. I absolutely cannot wait. And I absolutely want to ring in this new decade in a big way. So I decided on a trip.
I wanted to go to Key West, because I’ve never been. How sad is that? I’m a Florida girl, and I have never been to the Keys. I figured this birthday would be the perfect time. But my preliminary pricing told me that between gas, tickets for the Key West Express, and the hotel, my golden birthday celebration would also cost a small fortune. So I researched the next best thing: a cruise that made a port stop at Key West. I found the perfect one, leaving the week of my birthday from Port Canaveral, and making stops at Key West and the Bahamas. I would turn 30 in Freeport. It was close and convenient, and best of all, it was $200 a person. A fabulous vacation courtesy of Carnival without breaking the bank. Perfect.
Then my friend Kaitlin alerted me to this story about a Carnival ship that caught fire in the Gulf of Mexico which crippled the ship and stranded the passengers for 5 days with no power or plumbing. People were waiting for hours to get, like, half a hamburger, and having to go to the bathroom in buckets. Conditions were stinky and miserable. Not the stuff of which dream vacations are made.
I just want to point out that it would be my luck that as soon as I decide to take a cruise, my very first cruise, something like this would happen. But a) my cruise will be on a different ship, b) I’m a poor betch who really needs a legit vacation, and c) this trip will prompt me to seriously start my quest to find the perfect maxi dress (one that doesn’t make me look prego). So I will tempt fate, brave the odds, and book the cruise. If things go awry and I have to shit in a bucket or share a cuddle with an old man in exchange for a wedge of cheese or something, it will just be a good story to add to my arsenal. I will just drink a lot to cope.
Bon voyage, bitches.