Not Your Average Senior Citizen

We were supposed to fly to St. Maarten on March 18th to spend some time with Jason’s parents. Instead, like most spring breakers this year, our vacation plans went from 2 weeks in paradise to 2 months in quarantine.

But before our flights were officially cancelled and we had to unpack our bags, we were seriously prepared to throw caution to the wind and make the trip. Coronavirus be damned. The Buccaneer Beach Bar was calling my name.

You’re probably thinking to yourself, “Wow, that’s selfish. She would put her mother and father-in-law at risk like that? She would go to an airport, fly on an airplane and potentially spread germs to two 70+ senior citizens just so she could sip a mojito in the Caribbean?”

Well, I did think of those things but my mother-in-law knocked some sense into me.

Here’s how the conversation went.

Me: I don’t know, Nancy. What if we pick up the coronavirus germs in the airport? Our kids will never be as careful as we might hope they’ll be. We could get you sick and it’s so dangerous for older people.

Nancy: Nicole, please. I’m not your average senior citizen.

Amen to that. Nancy is a 5 foot nothing powerhouse with 5% body fat and an incredible wine tolerance. She has had 32 car accidents and walked away from every single one without so much as a hangnail. Hurricane Irma blew through St. Maarten a few years ago devastating the entire island. Nancy’s house? Didn’t even feel a breeze. Not a leaf was out of place. And when Nancy walks into a casino (which happens almost daily), the entire place cheers. They roll out the red carpet and give her a throne at the poker table. Because whether she’s up or down, Nancy always leaves a winner.

So yeah, she’s right. She’s not your average senior citizen. We probably could have picked up an entire keg of coronavirus at the airport, dumped it over her head and she’d live to be 120-years-old.

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