Memory Week One

Since this is a travel writing class, the first memory that comes to mind is a memory of the first trip I really remember going on as a child.

It was 2006 and I just turned 13. My family and I drive to Florida roughly every year to visit my mother's brother and parents. Road trips remain, to this day, eventful experiences because my parents love to play music deemed "oldies" by any recent generation. But their singing propels us to our destination and by the time we've reached Brevard County, ingrained in me are all the words to Blinded by the Light or any REO Speedwagon song. My sister, being 10 at the time, strained against her seat belt for N*SYNC or the Backstreet Boys.
Mid protest, her pleas were silenced by the sight of the Carnival and Royal Caribbean cruise liners in Port Canaveral. Faces instantly mushed against the tinted windows, unblinking.
Thinking back, I don't know why anyone scootches closer to the window trying to see anything, it does not really help. You're still 5,000 yards away.
The trip planned for two weeks at Grandma and Grandpa's and halfway through the trip, my father took the whole family out to dinner and suggested we drive by Port Canaveral to see the ships again. Of course the answer was two jumping little girls, incomprehensible words screeched.
The part that sticks with me though, was when my father pulled into the Port, turned around in the drivers seat to face me and my sister and said nonchalantly, "Let's go see if we can get a tour."
Now, any normal person knows that no captain or crew, much less security, lets eight people off the street in to "visit" the Mariner of the Sea ship. But, when my father opened the trunk of the car to reveal all the suitcases, my first thought: Ha! That surly will let us in to visit the ship!
Turns out, we were taking a week long cruise around the Caribbean.