The Griswolds - Jersey Style

So, if you don’t actually know my family by now, some of my previous blogs have given you a sense of the characters I’ve grown up among.

Our family is a creature of habit. If we find something we like, we stick with it. Food, clothes, car makers, vacation destinations. For 15 years, every April vacation, we would return to the same tropical destination. The resort staff knew us, knew where we liked to set up our chairs on the beach, that we like extra towels, that Big Bro is a surfer, I’m a beach reader, Mom is a people watcher, Dad a beach sleeper. When Big Bro got married, my sister-in-law got to join the routine. She’s a People magazine reader mixed in with a daily swim in the ocean kind of girl. We are all, end the beach day-in the hot tub-watching the sun set-while drinking mud slides, kind of people.

This story is before my nieces and nephew were on the scene and added extra entertainment on trips….

The five of us (yes, per usual, I was the odd woman out. The deal has always been that you couldn’t bring anyone on these trips unless you were married to the person. Even the year Big Bro and Sis-in-Law were engaged, Big Bro came without her) head off to the land of fruity drinks, tropical weather, and 3 meals a day eaten beachside. By day 3 of relaxing bliss, Big Bro decides he will go to the other side of the island and go surfing. He takes the rental and disappears for the day.

If you’re reading this, you know Big bro likes to push his luck and get that one last set in – even if it means being late for dinner. So, upon his return to the resort, we were all showered and ready to hit up dinner. He jumped in the shower, got dressed (my Dad impatiently waiting and regularly checking his watch – in matters of being on time – son is NOT like father). Off we rush to dinner where we have a lovely meal. Big Bro is a bit fidgety but really, that’s not that unusual.

What is unusual is that after dinner we are debating whether or not to go hang on the beach, read on the balcony, or maybe hit up the bar when Big Bro says he needs to get back to the room, something is wrong.

Naturally, we are a family of nosey bodies and follow hot on his heels. We huddle into the room and ask a hundred questions. Well, in the light of the room, we see he is covered in HUNDREDS of welts and he’s itching up a storm. Ewww….

Remember, it is late at night and we are in a foreign country. We call the front desk who connects us to an “on-call” doctor. Big Bro explains the welts, surfing, itching etc. The “doctor” says to meet him out front, he will have medication. He pulls up, takes $20 cash and hands over a bottle. Never looks at the spots. The bottle has a scull and cross bones on it and contains some milky liquid. Through his thick accent, he says to apply it to each spot and “wait for it to die”. To die? Huh? Wait for what to die?!?!? Ah, wait for the sea lice to die, he tells us.

We all freak as he explains it is common that time of year if you swim through seaweed to catch tropical sea lice (jellyfish larvae). Big Bro caught it on the far side of the island where there is lots of warmer waters with seaweed. Ewww, ewww, eww.

With the help of my saintly sis-in-law, Big Bro applies this stuff, to each of his hundreds of spots. The next day, he’s fine. It is like nothing happened...except for the fact that our family can’t help but to discuss it on the beach.

The sun is shining, sunscreen applied, steamy day, waves crashing, beach full of tourists like us – except we are Jersey loud. We are talk/screaming over the sound of the waves about Big Bro’s sea lice and Big Bro is saying how he doesn’t want to talk about it (sure he’ll be thrilled with this blog) because it grosses him out. My Mom then screams, loud and clear for all to hear, “you SHOULD be grossed out. Last night you had an ORGASM living and growing inside you. And then it died. An ORGASM!” As the entire beach looks in horror at us, my Dad calmly says, “I think you mean he had an ORGANISM living in him last night.”