So after nearly killing the nearly dead, the universe rose up against me.
Day 2: Miami Beach. The water was so clear, and so beautiful. It was in the high 70s. Perfect. Sarah and I went walking through the water towards the pier. On our way back, I had just finished commenting on how transparent the aqua water was, when something closed its jaws (or claws) on my left foot. I screamed and pulled my foot up. In my 32 years of beach going, I have NEVER had anything attack me in the water. This time I had a nice puncture wound through the nail of my second toe.
We collapse back on our towels, and I start reading. Splatt! Nope. It wasn't seagull poop. At least I didn't think it was. It was clumps of sand. Wet clumps of sand. Apparently a bird flew overhead, launched its messy projectile near me, and the ricochet from the lump got all over my book and me. Delicious.
Day 3: Our first day to sleep in, when I get frantically woken up. Mom and Pops had already arrived at the dock, and we were about 35 minutes away. And in our pajamas. We rushed around, got there BEFORE they had even disembarked, and happily drove them home. As we approached the house, Mom noticed a bunch of vultures were flying around their street. We pull into the driveway, and the vultures are hovering around our house. They are swooping low and then circling. One came as low as the roof of the house before he wheeled back up. It was surreal and crazy and creepy. They soon went to the neighboring house, and then circled over the nearby school. We never found out why, but I assumed it was because of my Day 1 in Miami.