Sun, surf and the swine flu

I caught a bad fever in Rome. I vaguely got shot at on a camping trip in East Texas. Just last summer, I broke my ankle in Rocky Mountain National Park. (After years of arduous and, dare I say, manly mountain hikes, I was finally done in when I tripped off a step while carrying a suitcase full of baby toys and my wife's magazines. Oh, the symbolism.)

It's hard to complain about any of these vacation-spoiling moments, though, after what happened to us this past week in Mexico, just as the swine flu became the epidemic du jour. Suffice it to say, you know your trip has taken a turn for the worse when you start noticing other tourists walking around in surgical masks.

Our trip to Akumal -- a small beach town south of Cancun along the Mexican Riviera -- actually got off to a shaky start well before we even got on a plane.

Literally three days after we booked our (nonrefundable) airfare and condo there, the State Department issued its travel advisory regarding Mexico's rampant drug cartel violence. That then set off the whole enchilada of anxiety-heightening media coverage. Never mind that mass killings had been going on for years along the border. It became a big story when it threatened to spoil spring break for U.S. college students.

Determined to have a good time regardless, we piled our bathing suits, baby toys, back issues of Vogue and bulletproof vests into the suitcase and left for Mexico. And we did have a good time.

No surprise to anyone who's really traveled along the Mexican coasts, the most violent thing we saw was the tacky Americanization and Euro-trashing of Cancun proper. I mean, really: Does one tourist district need 15 Señor Frog T-shirt stands?

Five days into the trip, with one day left to go, we started seeing the face masks and hearing the murmurings about this swine flu. So we put down our conchinita pibil (pork) tacos and finally turned on CNN for our first nonsports-related news fix of the week.

Suddenly, everything went into domino-effect mode. Text messages started arriving from folks back home. Calls were made to the airline about going home early. Blackberrys were consulted for tips on the where, when and how of the virus (we went back to eating the pork tacos after reading the facts). Talk turned to how a 19-month-old who always pulls off her socks or a hat in a huff would react to having a mask over her face.

I won't lie. I also ever so briefly wondered if bringing home duty-free fine tequila was now out of the picture.

Things settled as we read up on the facts and booked the first flight out in the morning. We were fried from the sun and ready to go home anyway.

Tensions rose again when we got to the airport. None of the airport staff were wearing masks, but about a tenth of the travelers were (not us), and for whatever reason nearly half of those were Japanese tourists. I sat on the plane to Dallas next to two masked German women, which had me wondering what they planned to do come beverage-cart time (alas, they didn't ask for anything).

As we headed through customs in Dallas, the only indicator of the big H1N1 scare was an info sheet on the signs and dangers of the flu, which the passport clerk asked if we wanted. We accepted, but didn't really read it. By then, what was the point?

One thing I do know, though, is that even after all the bad mojo that rained down on the trip, I don't regret that we went on it.

Within reason (Iran and the North Pole aren't on my travel wish list), I don't believe you should go around worrying about every vague danger that might put a damper on a vacation. People who do that get stuck going to Florida every year. People who do that are still afraid to go to New Orleans four years after Katrina, even though it remains the greatest city in America.

Personally, I'd think about going back to Mexico next year before I'd ever consider Naples or Palm Beach. I might bring along a few surgical masks, sure, but I'd be there with bells on.