My flights all arrived nearly on time. As I walked down Terminal B in Hartsfield, I spotted the back of a head that looked suspiciously like Robin. We gave each other a big hug. A.E. protested when I tried to take the car seat, but was soon shyly playing with me. Robin told me she was upset on the first flight when she saw the ground going bye-bye, but she did fine on our ATL-MIA connection. When we got to Miami my bag was missing, so I filed a report. They said they'd try to get it in tonight, but that didn't happen. We hopped in a cab, which took all back roads to the port. A.E. was fascinated when the cabbie took a cell call in his native African dialect.
After passing through security, we were directed to a large waiting room, already nearly full. It turns out someone on the previous cruise had tried to bring an illegal souvenir from Jamaica and delayed the debarking process for a few hours. We waited an hour or so and were finally directed onto the ship. We ate lunch on the verandah, looking out over the blue water and the rich people's private islands. During the muster drill, A.E. finally succumbed to the excitement and cried herself to sleep. Robin carried her down to the room and tucked her in, and we watched from our window as the Coast Guard escorted us out of port, their machine guns at the ready.
When A.E. woke up, we explored the ship. She loves going up and down stairs, and there is no dearth of them here. Now we're relaxing in the cabin, enjoying each other's company.
Dispatch from Portland's March for Our Lives
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