Vacation photos show a pattern: This mom wonders if her family is out to get her

I’ve been thinking a lot about the vacations I’ve taken over the years and I’ve come to a shocking conclusion. My family has been trying to kill me.

I’m actually stunned it’s taken me this long to figure it out. But I finally had an epiphany while looking at old vacation photos, and I’m extremely distressed to report that the plot to murder me started on my honeymoon. And trust me, if my husband had been successful, I’m certain it would have been a “Dateline” episode.

Let me set the scene for you. It was another sun-kissed day in Las Brisas, Mexico, as my husband and I enjoyed the second day of our honeymoon. Out of the blue he announced that we should try parasailing.

I was immensely hesitant. Being lifted in the air by a boat of undetermined origins and I’m sure void of routine safety checks sounded iffy. Then when you add crashing into the Pacific Ocean into shark infested waters well, that’s a hard pass from me.

But young love can make you acquiesce to a lot of things that go against your better judgment, and after some cajoling, I agreed to a parasailing “adventure.” Before you could say honeymoon death trap, there I was being strapped into a frayed harness that looked like it had indeed seen better days. Then, just when I started to say I had changed my mind, the boat took off and I went airborne.

To this day it was the second worst vacation experience of my life. (Don’t worry I’m getting to the first.) The reason? The frayed harness was coming apart. I knew death was imminent and all I could think about was, “Oh my God, my mom will be so mad that she’s going to have to return all my wedding presents.”

Thankfully, powered by the thought of my mother’s fierce anger, I successfully maneuvered the sail and made it back to the shore and into the “loving” arms of my husband.

Alas, this incident is nothing compared to the time my entire family left me to be devoured by a 400-pound black bear. We were skiing in Lake Tahoe on a day so beautiful we should have been on a postcard. The slopes were almost empty and everything was perfect until my husband and two kids decided to leave me and my “leisurely skiing” behind and race down to the lodge so they could stuff their faces.

What I’m sure they knew was that a huge black bear was jogging toward me like he had just found a yummy afternoon treat. But there I was, a slow-moving human shish kebab abandoned on a mountain. My panic overtook me. I didn’t think I could outrun a bear but I wasn’t ready to accept that the end was near.

I decided to take my chances and headed straight down the mountain channeling my fear into rage at my family for leaving me alone with a bear.

When I made it to safety, and by that I mean an area with other people around as potential bear snacks, I finally cried and was desperate to be reunited with my family. A family that strangely seemed incredibly surprised to see me.

They tried to explain that surprise away by saying it was because I got to the lodge “so fast.” But now I’m not so sure. There’s a reason those homicide detectives on “Dateline” say “don’t trust coincidences.”

Oh, and there are more stories of my vacation “close calls” but I’ll have to save those for another time. Right now, I’m going to continue to go through photo albums to compile more evidence and perhaps cancel our next vacation.

Reach Sherry Kuehl at snarkyinthesuburbs@gmail.com, on Facebook at Snarky in the Suburbs, on Twitter at @snarkynsuburbs on Instagram @snarky.in.the.suburbs, and snarkyinthesuburbs.com.