I went to Legoland!
And it was a family trip. Me, my parents, my sister, and her three barely-disciplined children.
I went along - yes, on purpose! - because it was the little childrens' first "family vacation" and I wanted to be in on it so I could avoid future ones. I had a good feeling as to what it would be like, and I was not disappointed. By which I mean, I went in in total pessimism mode expecting all the worst, so that any surprises would be pleasant ones.
I also neglected to do any research at all on where Legoland was, which led to a trip about 300 miles farther than I initially thought about. Our hotel (which I think is getting a bad rap thanks to the busy season happening at the time) was across the street from the ocean, and my sister was upset because it wasn't in line with her idea of the description "Walk out the front door, and there's the ocean!" What the heck did she want, to open our room door and be threatened with high tide soaking? She also kept claiming that the whole point of the trip was for her kids to be having a good time, but she also kept flipping out over everything. Everyone got on everyone else's nerves (as I expected)and the kids kept acting like themselves, which somehow set my sister off even more. Which set off my parents even more.
Me, I wasn't that bothered by anything they did - that is to say, not any more than I usually am whenever I have to deal with any of them. There were good moments, there was at least two complete mental breakdowns I got to witness in my relatives alone.
My dad was mostly tired and never got to visit that "Gemological Institute" he saw while driving to Legoland. He also got noticeably agitated off of other people's irritation.
My mom fed every fire by constantly going on about little problems that had passed or been dealt with.
My sister went nuts at every little thing that didn't go as planned out by her.
My oldest nephew had his standard attention problems, nothing out of the ordinary though.
My second nephew, the little felon-to-be, precipitated an incident that nearly led to a domestic disturbance call and a few minutes later a frantic search around several blocks and a good stretch of coastline for one of the adults who'd stormed off in fury. (The only actual injury was some peeled skin on a sunburn, dealt with by ointment and a bandage.) Little bastard didn't even realize what he'd done. (At this point, some three days later, he still doesn't seem to care even now that he sort-of knows. You know, since nothing actually happened to him.)
The youngest, Little Spoiled Princess You-Just-Know-She's-Going-To-Be-A-Complete-[expletive]-Later was her typical overclingy-to-mom self and demanding attention and to be carried all the time. (Not too unusual, the being-carried thing. Around all these tall people, she wants to see what's going on too!) Holy Deity-of-Choice, we never should have let her see the Princess For A Day booth. She went nuts until she was allowed to get the full works there, and then refused to answer to anything but "Princess" the rest of the day. The one exception: Me. I called her "my little kidnapping victim" (why no, it was not well-received by either my mom or my sister) and as she knows I'm her only relative not wrapped around her 3-year-old finger, she responded.
Got back sunday night. Someday, I'm going to get to go on the vacation I want, but I expect I'll be waiting until the last day of Octember for that one.