PJ's Real Life Adventures

There aren’t too many certainties in this life.

Let‘s see. There is death. Taxes. Tattoos.

And, of course, vacations, which in PJ’s case always seem to go awry.

How could he ever forget, for example, the 1991 cruise to Bermuda? He can still clearly recall the headline on the Bermuda Gazette: Cruise From Hell Arrives Safe.

And a "Cruise from Hell" it was.

PJ was reluctant to board the Nordic Prince in the first place. And for good reason. Hurricane Bob was brewing somewhere out in the Atlantic. He was assured, however, by the ship’s officers on the Manhattan gangplank that the Prince would “go east and then south” to avoid the storm. Boy, were they wrong.

Twelve hours of 100 mph winds and 65-foot seas. Twelve hours of heeling 39.5 degrees to one side and 39.5 to the other. That’s 78 degrees of swing and then a huge, smashing plunge into the trough, the ship’s propeller careening wildly out of the water. Millions of dollars of damage to the ship. Incalculable traumatic damage done to the passengers let alone the crew. The knowledge that 41 degrees was the capsizing threshold. Slot machines that slammed down inches from PJ’s head. The absence of gravity causing people to stand at impossible angles.

Yup. The Nordic Prince. Hurricane Bob. 1991. The Cruise from Hell.

And then ten years later almost to the day, September 11, 2001.

PJ is in the air on his way to Fort Lauderdale to visit his brother. It’s a beautiful morning. Crystal clear.

And then. The loud speaker crackles. It is the captain who in a Southern drawl explains that there has been some terrorist activity in Washington D. C., and he has been directed to immediately suspend the flight at the closest airport. Mute shock in the aisles.

The plane is grounded. Of course PJ is clueless because he is the only person on board without a cell phone. (No, he does not have one. He intends to have this stated on his headstone.) Anyway, one particularly grim passenger concludes his call, and PJ asks him what has happened. He’ll never forget the guy’s face nor the reply, "You know the Twin Towers? They’re gone. Gone." More mute shock.

Well, the plane landed in Orlando and the passengers were transported by ground to Fort Lauderdale where the bus was prohibited from entering the airport by camouflaged Guardsmen with machine guns. PJ’s brother finally was granted permission to pick him up. What a grim time for the country. Even the return trip was delayed for quite a few days until the skies were finally reopened to air traffic.

Yup. September 11, 2001.

And then ten years later almost to the day, September 12, 2011.

PJ and Mrs. PJ journey to Italy. Sorrento, Capri, The Amalfi Coast, Naples, Rome, The Vatican, Florence, Sienna, and Venice. He’s not drinking enough water. Perhaps a bit too much vino. He’s walking about ten miles a day. The Meditteranean sun is scalding even in September.

Dehydration sets in. Flu-like symptoms as well. And where does this happen? In Venice. Not a good place to get sick. There aren’t any streets. The hotel calls for a doctor who arrives on the water-taxi-ambulance. The non-English speaking doctor comes to treat the non-Italian speaking PJ. It’s about ten o’clock p.m.

Via translation PJ is told to go to the hospital if the symptoms do not improve by the morning. Why should they improve? Because the doctor gives him something that resembles an Alka Selter tablet. It fizzes in the glass of water. He says it should reduce the fever. He gives Mrs. PJ a prescription for the stuff. He says take one giant pill every four hours. The next day when the prescription is filled, the Pharmacist says it is very strong and to only take one every 24 hours.

So, PJ tries to buy aspirin instead, but they don’t carry the stuff. They never heard of it. Meanwhile he is still annoyed at the doctor who refused to sign off on permission for him to come home early. No permission, no insurance coverage. No early departure.

PJ had to wait it out in the hotel bed for the last couple of days. The flight was excruciating. And, by the way, what is with the Al Italia flight crew? They sure do not enjoy their work. And they make sure no one else enjoys the fight either.

Well, finally PJ made it back home where he belongs.

He’s on the mend now, catching up on the movies, selling tickets, and wondering whether or not he should skip the September, 2021 vacation.