December 21, 2018

The Geese Fly South in November, The Jews Fly South Today

It’s time. The migration to Boca is underway. I do ask, why does every Jew known to man pay a small fortune to fly the family to Florida to spend a week with their parents, neighbors and Adam Sandler. Isn’t this supposed to be a VACATION? The thought of spending my week off with my parents or in laws is stressful as fuck. I am thrilled our parents have retired to Del Boca Vista. I understand we have a place to stay and Christmas is an extremely expensive time to go away. I also grasp the fact that it’s nice for our kids to spend quality time with their grandparents. After all, our mother/MIL did give up a week of Kanasta to sit at the pool with us for a week. I GET IT! BUT let’s set the record straight. What are we really getting ourselves into?

After spending most of the day to get to the airport, go through security and fly 3 hours to sunny (let’s hope) Florida, you need a car. While you like to think you were being proactive by renting the Lincoln Navigator online at Hertz, there is a 95% chance it’s a Ford Focus. This results in a long conversation between the desk manager and your husband while your kids are whining in your ear “HOW MUCH LONGER?”

Finally, you are on your merry way only to realize you are in SOUTH FLORIDA. The home of the world’s worst drivers. A thirty minute drive takes an hour. The kids are losing their shit and all you can think is when can I have a drink!

An hour later you pull into Del Boca Vista. Your parents/inlaws and their neighbors, Judy and Harold, are in the doorway awaiting your safe arrival.

Now, this is supposed to be a vacation. A week away with your husband and kids.
The thought of resorting to sleeping arrangements from your childhood seem somewhat inconceivable. Getting down and dirty with your parents room down the hall is not on my list of exciting things to do. A hotel room for a few nights during the trip sounds more like it. I mean this is all about your kids creating memories with their grandparents, right?

Anyhoooooo, once inside and unpacked, it’s where to go to dinner? If you have arrived on Christmas Eve, you better pray there was a reservation made at Gary Woo’s . This is not Scarsdale folks. This is Boca. Every east coast Jew is vying for the same reservation at the same Chinese restaurant. Capiche?

The following morning you wake up to check the FlyWheel classes. All booked. Every morning class of Christmas week sold out.

Did you really think you were going to be one of the lucky ones who would magically get a bike? Hell no. Again, do you realize you are not on a family vacation? You are at Visiting Day with 25,000 people who are all eating and exercising in a ten mile radius. You may as well consider this a week off from working out.

So you head to the pool with your kids in tow. Your husband took off to play golf with your father. Either you are psyched to have the day to yourself or you are bitter because he left you with the kids for 8 hours. As you approach the pool, you realize you did not wake up at 6am to reserve the highly-coveted pool chairs. Mother Fucker. You are now left standing with a camp duffle sized beach bag, your kids, your mother and no seats. NOW WHAT?

Lunch. Delray Beach. Atlantic Avenue.
The last thing you are expecting at 11:30am is to run into your ex-boyfriend from 1999. And, of course, it’s a day you could not look ANY WORSE. How the hell are you going to introduce this guy to your kids? Oh kids, this is the guy I was dating in the city before I married your father. Yeah, this is THAT guy. But it’s not your kids you have to worry about it’s your mother. “Well hello Jonathan! How are you? It’s been years!” FML.

Dinner. Mizner Park.
Your husband finally returns after a day of golf. Apparently there was a hold up at the 19th hole. You are off to another family dinner. Another night of running into half of Roslyn. Oh, the joy of watching The Cohen’s walk in and be seated while you have been waiting for an eternity. Why is this night different from all other nights? Because you are with your parents, the check has arrived at the table and your husband is not paying. After 5 long minutes of Pops checking the bill line by line he utters “Who ordered two diet cokes?”

RINSE, REPEAT

Credit to Seinfeld: Del Boca Vista