I really wanted to like Punta Cana. I so badly want to be one of these people who travels the world and can find beauty and wonderment at every turn, and not one of those people whose eyes are narrowed and mouth puckered with attitude for 90% of it. (One guess as to which one I was for this trip.)

Getting off the plane I was so excited and ready to see water and beaches like I’ve never seen before, experience new food and a new culture and was practically bursting at the seams with anticipation. Even the rickety van with a broken speedometer (which read 0 mph the whole ride) we took to our resort was endearing to me. Nothing could spoil it for me at this point, not even our driver’s clearly inability to drive. “Ain’t that sweet, honey! He almost rolled the vehicle!” Oh, I was enamored.  

CLEARLY, the universe had other plans than for me to love this place. From the time we arrived to the time we boarded our plane home, it was one frustration after another. It started with a VERY long check-in process during which we were nudged in the direction of upgrading our room so we could have the internet which we both wanted. So fine, no biggie. Plus we already had some “adult” beverages in hand which instantly made everything better!  

We weren’t exactly on an upward slope from there, either. The food? It provided me with the worst culinary experiences of my life. I was at least mildly sick almost every day. The pools? Overcrowded with kids – I’ll opt out of that one, thanks (hey a little pee in the pool never killed anyone, right?). The beach? Pretty gorgeous, actually. The hotel room? Also pretty. So we had a decent run with no hard feelings until the day we left. That gradual roll down hill suddenly accelerated to a full blown avalanche.

Departure day! Hurray! We’re packed, looking forward to a nice trip home, and waiting for our taxi due to arrive in about 5 minutes until Adrien realizes he doesn’t have his wallet – OOPS! After 30 minutes of tearing through the room, being sure not to miss any corner or crevice, we give up and finally leave counting it as a loss. At least we’re going home! It’s all stuff that we can get taken care of, right? Shake it off.

Arrive at the airport! Hurray! We made it! Time to head home, and hey – no extra charges to pay at the hotel. We feel pretty accomplished now even without the wallet!

Get to the check-in counter at Spirit airlines, and WHAM! “Let’s see, Miss. Two carry on bags *type type type*… $94,” like he just told me the soup of the day. I was frozen. I thought my eyeballs might fall out of my head I was so shocked. This tipped us over the edge, and from that point on we couldn’t leave this country fast enough. I think we did cartwheels onto the plane (although we probably should have flown naked just to avoid those fees!), SO ready to finally get home! We got buckled, settled with our good friend Xanax and our other good friend InStyle magazine, and we waited. And waited. And waited some more… two hours later, we finally take off to avoid a hurricane and oh by the way Trusting Passenger, prepare yourself for some rough and rumbling turbulence. And OH BY THE WAY, would you like a $3 water? $4 M&Ms? An $8 beer? Would any of these comically overpriced items soothe you?

No sir, I do NOT want your M&Ms!!! My wallet and my sanity need a break!

I’m surprised our customs officer didn’t charge us for a body cavity search.

I’m happy to be back in America where at least our extortion has the courtesy to fly under the radar. 

 

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