Lindsey Buckingham sang it best

It is a freaking long way down the holiday road.

At about 11PM last night, BG and I returned from the beach with a van full of exhausted children. We set out Saturday for a beach adventure. Some people laughed and pointed. Some cried for us. "You're going to drive about 7 hours with four kids for a trip to the Gulf?" Yes. Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. And, honestly, the kids were the best part. 

The following events took place, save for one. See if you can guess!

--We were in a wreck three hours into the drive

--Since it was Saturday, there were no repair shops open, so we drove four more hours without air conditioning

--The littlest G almost had heat stroke and had to be iced down in a McD's bathroom

--When we arrived at the condo, the "skywalk" from the parking garage to the condo-proper was without A/C

--Aaaaand one of the two elevators was down

--We waited an hour for the functional elevator

--Seventeen floors up, our friends met us with their two kids, who had both started running fever and had developed croupy coughs

--We went down all those flights of stairs to get to the pool that first night because there was just no way we were waiting another hour on the G family's "quest for fun" <--Clark Griswold

--Something at the beach bit me (miracle of miracles, with my luck, it wasn't a shark), and that bite is now festering and infected... Er, sorry for the disgusting imagery

--Back in the room for dinner, I burned myself on a pot of boiling pasta

--When my friend and I returned to the condo after a grocery run, we were nearly attacked by a mutant hermit crab scurrying around the [single working] elevator

--^This was after our friends were bullied by a real-live pirate

--^^OK, so not a PIRATE, but he had an eye patch and said "Arrrrrgh" while shuffling past them in line for elevator access

--These same friends got no sleep because of the sick babies 

--And they ultimately had to track down a pediatrician to call in a steroid prescription from three states away

--The second-to-littlest G started calling everyone "Poop Head" and just.wouldn't.stop

--Meanwhile, baby G, recovered from the heat, committed her first felony (Did you know that throwing shoes from a balcony in Florida was a felony offense punishable by law?)

--We had to be out of our condo at noon, even with late check-out, so we hung out at the pool for FOUR HOURS while we dared security guards via The Patented Hate Stare to kick us out 

--The local repair shop guy, who promised a ride from the condo to the repair shop to get our van, reneged, and BG had to pay $40 in cab fare

--BG didn't have the cash, so had to pay with his soul; only he didn't have one of those handy either

If it's true what Clark says, "Getting there is half the fun. You know that," it's DIY-staycations for the Gs from here on out!