This summer, my family spent a long weekend on Martha's Vineyard. Traveling with small children is always stressful and this weekend was no different. We had spent the night before the ferry ride at my brother's house in northern RI. We had ordered pizza for dinner and there was a lot left over the next day.I thought it would be wise to bring some pizza with us to eat for lunch before we got on the ferry. We would be spending enough money once we got to the island so it would be nice to have a free lunch. Also, my kids often have trouble eating when we travel because they get too excited, but they will eat pizza anywhere, anytime.
We packed the car in the morning - suitcase, diaper bag, backpack with bathing suits and towels, laptop and power cord (what?), extra diapers, Thomas the Tank Engine snuggle pillow, stroller - and then I come out of the house with the pizza box. My husband looked at me as if I'd suddenly sprouted another head, and perhaps the head of a gecko or some alien thing and he said, "What's that?"
"Lunch," I sid, "Then we don't have to stop to buy anything." I felt very proud of myself and confident that this was a great idea.
"I am not putting that in the car! I am not carrying a pizza box to Martha's Vineyard!" said the spouse, suddenly fuming. I don't really get why he is so mad, after all, I just saved us at least $30. I said, "Well, I thought we'd eat it before we get on the ferry so you won't have to carry it to the Vineyard." I put the box in the car and we head for Woods Hole.
The girls were excited that we were going to get to ride on a big boat to an island - okay, the baby had no idea what was going on but the four year old was definitely psyched. She asked a million questions about the ferry and the hotel we would be staying at. She wanted me to tell her, again and again, the name of the place we were going. "Martha's Vineyard," I told her. She repeated back, "Northers Vineyard." Close enough, I figured.
We had decided when we planned the trip a month before that we didn't want to bring the car to the island. We'd be able to walk everywhere or take a bus if we had to. So, we parked at the Sunshine Lot at Woods Hole, where we were to leave the car for the weekend. It was aptly named since there are no trees in sight and the sun beat down on us mercilessly as we waited for the shuttle bus to take us to the ferry .
We got out of the car and began to unload - stroller, Thomas the Tank Engine snuggle pillow, extra diapers, laptop and power cord (seriously?), backpack with bathing suits and towels, diaper bag, suitcase, and finally, the pizza box. My husband gave me that look again like he had no idea who I was or why I was standing next to him. He made a little growling noise in his throat and said to me, under his breath so the kids couldn't hear, "We are not taking that f*ing pizza box." "Sure we are," I said, with a little more confidence than I feel.
By the time the bus came, there were several people waiting to get on. We had to negotiate all of our luggage and belongings - some things went into the storage area under the bus but the rest we had to haul onto the bus with the two children. Of course, the pizza box had to come onto the bus with us and not only that but the spouse had to hold it because, of course, the girls wanted to sit on me. So there was my poor, tolerant husband sitting on the bus, muttering oaths under his breath and looking around, convinced that the other passengers were staring at us because he was holding a pizza box and what sane person carries a pizza box onto the bus that brings you to the ferry?
The ride was a lot longer than I thought it would be and I almost began to agree with him about the pizza box but then we finally got to the ferry and I felt a bit better. Of course, we still had to get the girls, our stuff, and the pizza box off the bus, make sure we found the right ferry, get tickets, and make it to the boat on time. It all worked out just fine and we managed not to kill each other and the kids were so happy to have pizza for lunch. The spouse even ate some, albeit grudgingly.
While we waited to get on the ferry, the girls ran around, chasing birds and checking out boats. The ferry ride was fun - the four year old watched the boats out the window and the baby and I wandered around the ferry checking out people and especially dogs. We got to the Vineyard and managed to get the kids and all of our stuff off of the boat.
Now we just had to find the hotel, which was supposed to be really close to the harbor but then I realized that I left the directions in the car back at the Sunshine Lot. Luckily the spouse has an iPhone so he could look up the exact address. We found the street and began to head down it towards the water, with the baby in the stroller and carrying the rest of our stuff. The streets were packed with cars moving closely past us and the sidewalks were narrow and full of holes. It turned out that we were going in the wrong direction and would have to turn around. By now, the kids were getting tired and hungry and it was really hot. It seemed as if no matter which direction we turned, the sun was shining directly in our faces, blinding us. By the time we finally made it to the hotel, we were all miserable but somehow I managed to maintain some small vestige of humor. As we entered the deliciously air-conditioned lobby of the hotel, I turned to my husband and said, "At least we aren't still carrying that pizza box!"
