Having no children and a husband who travels for work all week (soaking up company paid hotel and airline points) allows us to travel often. I would spend every last penny traveling to places with new an unique cultures...I think you get THAT much out of a place in return. And LOTS of stories.

My most memorable vacation, however, involved little local color and all family drama.

Our trip was to be a family vacation of ‘fun’ on the half Dutch, half French island of St. Maarten.

This is not a place you go with family.

St. Maarten is gorgeous, with its azure blue waters, sugar-white sand, rolling lush hillsides, and quaint, red-roofed buildings.

We stayed at the famous Orient Beach. Famous for its nude beaches.

And that’s were it all went wrong.

This was to be a vacation with my In-laws and if you’re open enough not to cringe at hanging out on a nude beach with family, I’m sure you’ll draw the line at your father-in-law answering the cottage door wearing nothing but a coconut drink and a smile =)

I’m not kidding.

Mom, Dad, sis, sis’s friend. ALL lounging around nude. ALL frolicking in the water sans suits. I couldn’t focus on the beauty of the island. I was too worried about where I would sit!

They laughed and told everyone, “You can take the girl out of Cincinnati, but you can’t take Cincinnati out of the girl!”. Ha. Ha.

One day we were told to grab our passports for a chartered boat ride. Bopping around the various islands in the French West Indies is about as close to paradise as I’ve been. And somewhere between one shaggy sand strip or the other, *I* even let my guard down (okay, it was just my top. But hey, my FATHER-in-law was there!!).

As I glided through the gentle waters peering at schools of brightly colored fish, my mother-in-law stayed close to me (I get lost easy)...all her ‘stuff’ swaying with the tide. In order to enjoy myself I needed to get away from THAT. So I swam off on my own.

About ten minutes into my swim, I found myself in excruciating pain! Worse, my arms and legs bore angry red welts, and felt like a ton of bricks to move. I waved down what I thought was the Zodiac from our boat. The dingy zipped up, someone plucked me out of the water, and um, started throwing warm liquid on me (I’ll spare you any more details on this common cure for jelly fish stings).

I suddenly realized that two British guys had rescued me...not MY boat.

From my husband’s perspective, he says the whole family was back at the boat, frantically looking for me. Then they see this Zodiac speed up, with two grinning, Adonis-looking men holding on to my half-naked self.

Fun times (for everyone but me, that is).

A few months later, I saw my father-in-law in a very public, very conservative Cincinnati restaurant. And he said, “Jessica! I didn’t recognize your with your clothes on!”.

Sigh.