When we travel to Cuba, we go to the same resort each time. I like the familiarity, the low key atmosphere, and the location near town. Over the last few years, the number of English speaking occupants has gone down drastically and has been replaced with mostly French Canadians and Russians. I have gotten used to no one but the staff understanding me and I've used that to my advantage.
As much as I have tried to avoid it, I am a lot like my father. This means I have a terrible sense of humour, a propensity to offend everyone without trying, and the ability to put both my feet in my mouth and still make noise. It's not something I'm proud of, but some days it's downright mortifying.
One day in Cuba, my companions and I were walking along the main road looking at all the vendors' shops and visiting some of the establishments here and there to get refreshments. Most of our group is very tall, so we tend to walk briskly even when meandering.
This afternoon, however, we were stuck behind a group of French speaking women and two men who seemed to make it their mission in life to take up as much of the sidewalk as possible and also go as slowly as cows in fresh grass. There was no way around them unless I wanted to risk getting trampled by a horse drawn carriage or a coconut taxi. I tried to be patient for the first two blocks but then I got huffy.
I turned to my sister-in-law and said "I know we're on vacation and supposed to be taking it easy, but this is ridiculous!!"
Suddenly, the tall man in the group stopped and said in perfect non-accented English, "Oh! Do you want to go around?"
This is when everyone in my life wishes they did not know me. My husband looked straight ahead and refused to acknowledge I existed and both my SiL and friend laughed uncomfortably. I turned 14 shades of purple and died inside. I apologized profusely, mentioned how hard it was for tall people to meander, and sped past them as quickly as I could.
After that, I refused to slow down for blocks in case it looked like we were holding them up. I finally felt safe once we got to the main market and we started perusing the shops again. On the street, some commotion was going on between a tourist and a very handsome cop.
I leaned over to my friend and made a comment about the tight pants and handcuffs. It was then I heard a familiar voice. I turned to find the same tall male from earlier. He grinned at me and said "Yeah, and the boots are pretty hot too."
I decided not to talk the rest of our holiday.