Our five day, pre-cruise vacation in Ft. Lauderdale, was just grand. There were cousins o'plenty and friends from near and far; and a good time had by all.
Then it was time for our cruise! On Sunday, we headed to Port Everglades, signed our Norovirus waivers (as apparently a "small percentage" of passengers on the last sailing were ill), and boarded our ship, destined for a New Years Eve sailing on the high seas with our 7 & 9 year old kings of chaos (our kids, obviously) and our cousins. It was time for the little rockstars to karaoke their crazy little hearts out, while their overtired, and not-quite-so-relaxed parents, drink endless mango-ritas from fluorescent yellow plastic cups. Ahhhh- vaaay- cation!
Yesterday, our stop was a private island, and as promised the day was full of fun and adventure. My guys swam in the ocean, and enjoyed some what I can only call "Extreme Frozen Beverages", which apparently contain ALL the virgin daiquiri flavors, mixed into one amazing, large cruise line logo, insulated souvenir tumbler.
As we headed off the beach and back to the ship, my nine year old was very impressed that his fruity drink seemed to have replenished itself. The hubs explained the incredible physics of ice and we were all happy his thirst would be further quenched en route.
We quickly approached the security facility for reembarkation, and I turn around to see my husband's arms filled with wet, sandy towels-- and the kids' mac daddy beverages in his hands. Whooooa, double take. If he's carrying their drinks, then what in the hell is my precocious nine year old carrying and drinking??? Shit.
Scared and hoping it is just another, identical-alcohol-free-monster-sized-drink, I unscrew the cap and take a big whiff. Clearly, this is a rum runner on ice. Oy vey. For reals.
Luckily, the only immediate noticeable effect of his binge was a wobbly "look no hands" step onto the reembarkation escalator. And that may have just been, part of the joys of being a nine year old boy...?
But then this morning, the little wonder started with a stomachache. And then some vomiting. Luckily, he hadn't eaten since last night-- yay us. And now here I sit, quarantined to our stateroom, surrounded by the industrial-size/ strength containers of disinfectant wipes I insisted they give me to use on everything he touches this side of Jamaica (literally... as we are docked here right now).
So will a child vomit 16 hours after consuming who knows how much of a stranger's misplaced rum runner, or do we have the infamous Norovirus of the Seas?
Only time will tell, only time will tell.