We awoke at 5:30 in the morning. The day we had all been waiting for had finally arrived. My father and mother were quickly awake and dressed as they urged me to hurry up as I was not as quick to come to my senses. A short thirty minutes later, a van pulled up to our driveway, and a slew of my relatives piled out. After brief greetings, everyone began to board the van. “I am going to be trapped in this hell for eight hours”, I thought.
I was waiting for fighting to begin between my cousins, but the altercation never came. As I looked around, everyone seemed to be either asleep or minding their own business. This was out of character for my usually obnoxious cousins. Before my opportunity of peace and quiet ended, I seized the moment to get some well deserved shut-eye, and almost as no time had passed by, we arrived in Miami. As we exited the van for the last time, I rubbed my crusty eyes and stretched my aching legs, and I laid eyes on my home for the next four days. The Carnival Princess floated before me. The sheer size of the ship took my breath, and I came to learn that the Princess was one of the smaller ships in Carnival’s fleet.
As we went through security, I spotted my good friend Brooke Reno and her family. We had booked the trip together, so her presence did not surprise me; however, it was nice to have a veteran cruiser with us to explain the boarding process. Shortly afterwards, I was following her through the gangway into the main lobby. The