Growing up in Florida, I was often envious of my friends who spent their summers going to camp or a theme park for a family vacation. Could I spend a week visiting an overgrown and overpriced mouse? Oh no, our family headed to the Abacos for our summer vacation.  I vividly recall the image in my head as my mother explained that we would be making “the crossing” to the Bahamas. I pictured our family, all with water wings on our arms, swimming from island to island, with cartoonish sharks circling in the distance. In reality, the crossing was the 12-plus hours it took to sail from somewhere near Jupiter, Florida, to the Abacos, a part of the vacation that I loathed then, as seasickness was something I was prone to.