Family holiday in Miami (February 2009)

Bal Harbour, Miami - posh, apparently.

Well, the story of this holiday is still not over, but it began almost a year ago, when we booked an American holiday to coincide with one of Daddy's conferences (in Anaheim, home of the original Disneyland). That fell through due to complicated passport-related incompatibilities revolving around Liam's dual nationality; he couldn't fly to the States without his own passport - a small detail we learned at the piggin' airport. We were turned back there and then, with our long-nurtured expectations of Californian adventure dashed against the Customer Services desk.

(Liam took the crushing disappointment rather stoically at the time. He went home and played with his toys, but fully three days later he lashed out at his Mum without warning. When asked for a reason he wailed, "I wanted to go to America!" Bottling it up until he could take it no longer, like a proper Englishman!)

Instead, we went to splendid Zell am See in Austria, but American Airlines took pity on us and allowed us to use the unused tickets within six months of the failed first holiday. This basically meant only February half-term 2009, and it had to be to the continental United States so I asked for advice and a 'trust' colleague, Cecily Cooper, said "come to Miami, it's guaranteed sunshine!" That was good enough for us, so we prepared to go.

Bearing in mind the catastrophe of the failed attempt at an American holiday we checked several times with our agent that everything was OK, and approached the scene of last year's crime-against-our-family-fun at 4.15am with confidence.

Imagine, then, our reaction on being told that Liam's ticket had not been booked properly, and he was not on the flight. Which was full. When it became clear that this was serious and unlikely to be recoverable, my mind raced with queasily sadistic imaginings of what I would do to our travel agency's staff (unjustly, as it turned out - the error was American Airlines'). But a magnificent young woman called Leanne liaised for fully 80 minutes with AA in the States, and got us all on board with five minutes to go.

Phew! Well, at last now we can enjoy the holiday.

We had booked into the Bal Harbour area of Miami: not as glamourous as this site suggests, as half the 'residences' are unfinished building sites, but it has a decent beach right on hotels' doorstep, and a few local shops and restaurants. A 45-minute $2 bus ride takes you into the groovier South Beach and downtown districts. Our hotel, the overpriced-for-what-they-offer Sea View, had a good heated pool, so all seemed set...

The second night I began to develop an earache and sustained tinnitus in my right ear, which I attributed to "swimmers' ear" and - typical bloke - assumed it would go away. It didn't, so I took a Mister Pharmacist's advice and tried some homeopathetic relief (not sic) and a kind of earwax extraction, neither of which did anything... We decided to call a doctor.

Our insurers confirmed that the fella could see me, and he came out, pronounced a 'barotrauma' (essentially, damaged eardrum, or 'tympanic membrane' - see diagram) caused en route. He whacked a shot of steroids up my left buttock [an image I hope will leave your mind as suddenly as it entered!], and bade me contact him in a few days.

And so began our Kafka-esque experience of the U.S healthcare and insurance system. Really, it is horrendous for anyone raised by the wonder and glory that is the NHS. The call-out charge alone was $575, each shot of steroids $300, each prescription another charge... Then the doctor refused to speak international to our insurer; they couldn't get a diagnosis out of him to start the insurance assessment [or was this a tactic by the insurers to drag the process out, forcing us to pay for everything?] - and all of this was being conducted by poor Valeria on my behalf, because I couldn't hear anything. The stress was unending.

On the eve of our return flight the doctor's assessment was that I had only recovered 30% (still plenty of swelling, and still constant tinnitus) and I needed to be at least 90% to be considered fit to fly. The doctor pumped me up with more 'roids (maaaan), and they did seem boost the healing process along, although one side-effect was my tendency to yell things like "drop and gimme 20, weakling!" to my wife a propos of nothing.

I underwent a minor surgical procedure a week later to have a tube fitted in my eardrum to drain the fluid which would allow us to fly home. The surgeon said it took him a maximum of three minutes. Cost: have a guess... Three minutes' work. Go on, guess.

Nope, you're nowhere near. $2,500. Plus hire of the surgical center, and the support staff costs...

So we ended up being "impounded" in Miami for two weeks - and it was not as much fun as it sounds, given that our days were spent dealing with the insurance agency, their underwriters, the breathtakingly cynical healthcare providers here and American Airlines, to try and get home.

We stayed in three hotels, the best being the Best Western in Bal Harbour (picture below), the worst being the miserably staffed Sea View.

We did enjoy fragments of the holiday: I gave a good presentation at The University of Miami; Liam and I made, and destroyed, some epic Sand Cities, and Liam learned to swim about 8 metres or so doggy-paddle, as well as underwater (see the film hereabouts):

And we had a couple of good family meals: one of which was for my 40th, which fell on February 19th. We also had two daytrips, to the Miami Children's Museum (lots of hands-on playing and 'learning' of sorts for Liam) and the Seaquarium (OK, but once you've seen one dolphin somersault and a killer whale's tail thrash you've seen 'em all!)

But, to be honest, my predicament cast a long shadow over everything and it did not turn out to be the great holiday we all wanted.

Ah well, as Peel used to say, "set against the great store of human suffering, my allocation is meagre". And he was right about pretty much everything.