"Vacation: A period of suspension of work, study or other activity, usually used for rest, recreation, or travel; recess or holiday."

So says the Random House Dictionary. But after reading the entries from our "Vacation Nightmares" essay contest, we at Sun Magazine think that perhaps the definition of "vacation" should be expanded, as hospitals and hurricanes seem to be frequent intrusions on even the most perfectly planned vacations. Your stories showed us that real-life vacations often contain more mosquitoes than margaritas, more delays at airports than dips in the ocean.

The following "Vacation Nightmares" are some of the more hilarious, engaging or just plain outrageous examples of how a vacation can go awry. We received nearly 60 entries from readers throughout Maryland. Retired grandparents traveling to Europe as well as children traveling in the back seats of their parents' cars took the time to let us know why theirs was truly a vacation nightmare.

To those of you who wrote to us, thanks for the sharing. And to those who didn't, well, read on, and just be thankful that it didn't happen to you.

HADES IN THE AEGEAN

In the summer of 1970, we managed to book the last available cabin on a two-week cruise to the Greek Islands. Even then, it was an incredible bargain at $300 round trip, and we congratulated ourselves on our good fortune.

The ship left plenty to be desired, but as the cruise promised fabled ports of call, three meals a day and air-conditioned cabins, who cared?

But there was a rub. Our cabin had a very small air conditioner at the very top of a single, tiny clothes closet. The upper parts of our garments were cool, but the cabin, which was below deck without porthole or fan, was unbearably hot and stuffy.

We asked Miki, our steward, if he spoke English. He smiled winningly and said, "Oh, yes!"

We said our air conditioner wasn't working well and asked if he would arrange to have it fixed.

"Oh, yes," he replied, smiled sweetly and left.

The afternoon was even more stifling. When we asked Miki if the air conditioner would be fixed soon, he gave us that great smile and said, "Oh, yes!"

The next morning, after a miserable night of unrelenting heat and stale air, we cornered Miki and asked him if he wanted us to die of suffocation. He smiled charmingly and said, "Oh, yes!"

His English, it seemed, was as functional as the air conditioner in the closet.

+ Beatrice Mancuso, Baltimore

HELLO, HURRICANE. GOODBYE, FUN

You wait all summer to take your vacation, selecting a week in late August. Duck, N.C., has always been a favorite destination. You ask another couple to go along, renting a house close to the beach. You both have young children, 6 months and a year old, so you bring along two teen-agers to help, so the adults can have some fun, too!

You wake up early on that Saturday, pack the car and start driving. Six and a half hours later you are there, cranky baby in tow. The other couple arrives soon after. It's sunny out but the humidity is stifling. The air conditioning is turned off and the house is sweltering. The carpet needs replacing. The house smells of sulfur but you're told it's a common problem during August in Duck.

There's no television for the 1-year-old and there is no telephone. There are lots of decks but no deck furniture. But hey, you're on vacation. No beach today -- you go to the supermarket to buy supplies and you hear that Hurricane Andrew is heading straight for the coast of North Carolina. The supermarket is packed. Three hours later you get back to the house and start praying for a miracle.

The next morning is overcast and it rains off and on and the hurricane is still heading toward the coast. Somehow you survive the day cooped up in the smelly house with two young children, two teen-agers and three other adults who are mad that their vacation is being spoiled.

The next morning, Duck is being evacuated. If it weren't for the children, you might have taken a chance and holed up in the house. It's too risky, so you go to Norfolk to see if you can weather the storm and return to the house in Duck the next day. It's raining in Norfolk, too.

The hurricane takes longer to hit the coast than expected and there is no way you will stay in this hotel another night at a rate of $120 per room. So, you pack it all up and head home, arriving late on Tuesday. Lesson learned: Go back to Duck because it's a great place to vacation. But go in June.

Pam O'Neill, Gambrills

CALIFORNIA BEAMING

It was a very dark night and we were hopelessly lost. I was sitting in the back seat with my little brother and sister while my parents were up front alternately swearing and blaming each other for getting us lost.

We were looking for a campground in Southern California and had missed our turn. Worse yet, we weren't even sure we were on a real road anymore. The dirt road we were on had gotten progressively worse until we thought our vehicle would not make it. We were all looking desperately for some landmark when we suddenly came across a paved road! We all cheered as Daddy pulled our car on the smooth street and started in the direction he thought the campground was at.

We were all exclaiming about how smooth and wide the road was until I noticed a tall pole with a windsock on it. My parents didn't believe me when I told them what I'd seen until we passed another windsock. As the realization that we were on some small private airstrip dawned on my parents, one of my siblings noticed some lights in the sky and wondered if it was a plane. Suddenly we were turned around speeding away in the other direction.

We did find the campground later that evening.

Vicki Hopkins, New Market

DOWN AND OUT IN DISNEY WORLD

We were scheduled to leave for Disney World at 7 a.m. Thursday, April 1, 1993. Our 9-year-old son contracted a virus on March 29. His doctor told us not to hesitate taking him if he seemed well enough by Wednesday evening. We were still ambivalent about leaving with a child less than 100 percent well. Thursday morning at 5 a.m. our son hopped out of bed, displaying no signs of illness. Let's go for it.

We arrived in Orlando and checked into the hotel and proceeded to Disney World. We spent only three hours there so as not to tire our son. He felt great afterward and went to bed happy and well.

We awoke the next morning to see our son unable to stand due to tremendous pain. We took him to a local hospital where he was diagnosed, after numerous tests, with severely inflamed calf muscles attributed to the virus (a rare condition). He needed a minimum of 48 hours bed rest. This was Friday morning. Sunday, secured a wheelchair from the hotel and took him to Cape Canaveral for the afternoon. It was not on our original itinerary. He did enjoy preferential treatment and now has great empathy for handicapped children.

Monday, he was well enough to toddle around Disney World. But I awoke Monday morning with a 104-degree fever. I was later diagnosed, at the same hospital, with the flu. I spent the next three days in bed.

In the meantime our rental car had been struck and dented while parked on two separate occasions at two different parking lots. We were getting medication for our son. Having the police come to file an accident report filled our downtime.

We returned home Thursday, April 8. Eleven months later we finally reconciled the hospital charges with our insurance carrier.

With all the unused passes for Disney World, MGM and Epcot Center, we have to go back -- someday.

Linda and Jerry Silhan, Upperco

ATTACK OF THE FLESH-EATING FLIES

We should have taken the hint when we each received about 20 bites in the five minutes it took to check which camping site was ours. The various bug repellents we had lathered on seemed to deflect the mosquitoes but nothing worked on the flies. They were biting right through our clothes. We figured once we got inside the tent we would be OK. We had practiced putting up the tent in the back yard. It shouldn't have been a problem. One of the tent poles broke. That delayed us some but, hey, we're professionals, we're creative, we're resourceful -- we fixed the pole.

Once inside the tent, things were looking good. We managed a peaceful dinner and decided to get some sleep (it was then about 1 a.m.). Then it started to rain. No problem, the tent was holding. Then it started to storm -- thunder, lightning, wind, buckets of water. The tent was still holding but the roof was sagging and my husband was pacing around talking about getting hit by lightning. Then the roof started to leak like a sieve. My stepson jumped up from a sound sleep screaming, "Abandon ship!!!" We started packing all of the bedding into a garbage bag intending to leave the watertight stuff and sleep in the car until morning.

Between the tent and the car, the flies and mosquitoes descended like vampires. It was like something out of a Hitchcock flick -- we were covered with bugs and the air was buzzing like some giant fly. At this point, I freaked out totally and my husband told me to take my stepson, get off the island and wait for him. I remember feeling relieved that my daughter wasn't there. I'm sure she'd still be running down the road screaming. Fortunately, the bugs didn't carry my husband away and at about 4 a.m. we found a hotel room. So much for Thursday night.

By Saturday morning, the bites on the two guys were reduced to small red dots. Mine, however, looked like quarter-sized sucker bites all over my body. My ankles were swollen. My fingers were swollen. A man behind the counter in a coffee shop asked what happened to me. I told him. He said to me, "Ma'am, it's none of my business but you really should take some Benadryl. If you don't look better after a couple of doses you really should go to the hospital. Some of the tourists have gotten really sick. You see, those bugs wait all year for the tourists to show up and by the time you all do they are really hungry. . . ." I took his advice. It took almost a month for the bites to vanish. We sold the tent the week after we got home.

) Denise Basore, New Market

ROCKY MOUNTAIN LOW

Last year we drove out to Colorado to attend a family reunion. My son got sick, I developed a heel spur from walking in the mountains, blew out the axle boot in my van as well as the muffler, missed the whitewater rafting trip scheduled for July 3 (due to 3 feet of snow in Vail) watched a tornado hit town half a mile from our hotel and had to outrun the floodwaters of the Mississippi to get safely home to Maryland. Ocean City, here I come!

, Joseph W. Mikos Jr., Bel Air

LAST TRAIN TO BORES-VILLE

"Where am I?" my sleepy and bewildered brain wondered out loud. I most certainly was not in my room. I wasn't in a house and I wasn't even in Maryland. In fact, I had no idea what state I was in (besides shock). I was in the top bunk of the sleeping car of a train going from Chicago to Oregon!

This whole trip was thought up by my fun-loving mom. Instead of being like everybody else and taking a plane, we had to see the countryside and eat the wonderful food.

The only thing that made me get on this train was the promise of a movie in the observation car every night. There were no movies. The brochure also said that there would be cartoons every morning. There were no cartoons. It also guaranteed breakfast, lunch and dinner in the dining car. Instead, we ate Kentucky Fried Chicken three meals in a row. The dining car was broken. My theory is that they tried to cook meals in the VCR.

The thing that really ticked me off was the false promise of prizes for winners of the bingo games held every afternoon. In the bingo section of the brochure it was promised that prizes would go to the most skillful competitors. I myself am an extremely skillful bingo competitor and I won some of the games. But, you guessed it, there were no prizes.

By the way, we got into Portland, Ore., six hours late.

, Robert E. Traviso, Baltimore

NO ONE SAID IT WAS NONSTOP

It was Easter morning and we were off on our belated honeymoon. We got on a 7 a.m. flight out of BWI, bound for Cancun by way of Memphis. In about five hours we would be basking in the sun.

A smooth takeoff in an uncrowded plane was followed by a cup of coffee and a glass of juice and an announcement: "Ladies and gentlemen, the restrooms are not available for use. The ground personnel loaded the tanks with air instead of water." The flight crew made up for the inconvenience by offering more coffee and juice.

We finally arrived in Memphis and made the normal run to the connecting flight ("I don't care if we miss the flight, I'm going to the bathroom."). All of the aggravation was behind us now as we took off and headed south. After a while, we looked down and saw the coast of the United States disappear as we flew over the Gulf of Mexico. Only about an hour to go.

"Ladies and gentlemen, there are force 5 storms between us and our destination. We don't have enough fuel to go over them, so we are going to return to the U.S. and land in New Orleans." "Ladies and gentlemen, FAA regulations require you to remain in your seats while we are on the runway. Would you like something to drink?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, the storm has worsened. Instead of going to Cancun, we are returning you to Memphis. We are currently 10th for takeoff."

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Memphis. Please proceed to the main check-in where we have an even bigger surprise for you."

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard our flight from Memphis to Atlanta."

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Atlanta. The local time is midnight."

From 7 a.m. until midnight to get to Atlanta, another hour to pick up luggage and get to a motel, and then up in the morning at 6 a.m. to get back to the airport. In 24 hours, we had gone from BWI to Atlanta. I know a shortcut.

When we tried to return home from Cancun, we heard, "Ladies and gentlemen, due to weather conditions, there will be no flights leaving Cancun today. Come back tomorrow and try, along with the other thousand people that tried to leave today, to get on a flight that is already completely booked."

& Daryl Shekell, Odenton

LOST AT SEA, OR HOW DO YOU FLOAT A BOAT?

Over the Memorial Day weekend we went to Marsh Harbour in the Bahamas. We had made arrangements to rent an 18-foot motorboat and do some exploring and scuba diving. We went to pick up the boat and informed the gentlemen that we were not familiar with how to properly operate the boat. He gave us brief instructions and assured us that it was very easy and that we would not have any trouble.

We took the boat out the first day and had a great time. On the second day our luck took a turn for the worse. We went out into the Atlantic Ocean in search of a reef to go diving on. We found a reef and proceeded to anchor our boat (in the sand, of course). We dropped the anchor off the back of the boat. Water immediately started to pour into the boat. My husband tried unsuccessfully to pull up the anchor. The boat continued to fill with water. We put the life jackets on and got off the boat. The boat then capsized with all of our scuba gear on board.

We could see an island with a house on it way off in the distance. Another island was within swimming distance and we decided to go for it. We reached the island only to discover that it was no more than a very sharp volcanic rock. We decided that the water was too rough and the inhabited island was too far to swim to. We would have to wait for someone to rescue us.

We knew the people we had rented the boat from would not begin to look for us for two more days. It was starting to get cold and dark and there were no other boats in sight. The waves were crashing onto the rock and the spray kept us from drying off. All that we had were our wet swimsuits and life jackets. No food or water. We sat there and watched the sunset, knowing we would not be rescued that day. We sat up all night freezing and unable to lie down on the sharp volcanic rock. It was one of the longest nights (16 hours) we have ever had. The next morning we were spotted by another boat and rescued. Our boat was towed back to shore and we recovered about half of our gear. In addition to our own lost gear, we were also responsible for the damages to the boat. We made it home OK and have since vowed to take boating lessons.

4( Kimberly and Lester Lakin, Baltimore

WHEN IN POLAND . . .

The idea was simple. My wife and I would blend a sightseeing vacation with a visit to my grandparents' homeland: Poland.

After months of preparation, we began our journey. We found ourselves in Warsaw, Poland, on Sunday night, May 8, 1994.

We began the next morning by boarding a city bus for a six-block journey to our first sightseeing stop. We took two seats and immediately a man in frayed, dingy, smelly clothes strode up to us. Assuming he was the conductor, my wife held up two fingers. "Two tickets, please," she said. In two seconds he had written down an amount in Polish currency that translated into $40. I took this man to be the scam artist of the day and said, "I don't think so."

When he persisted to demand money we decided to attempt to leave the bus. He screamed to the driver in Polish and the next thing I knew the doors opened, everyone on the bus ran off, he violently pushed me down with one hand and pushed my wife out the door with the other. I realized as I found myself sprawled on the bus seat that I was not in a vacation mood. My anger boiled over and I remembered many words from my New York boyhood.

As jostling led to pushing and shoving, I realized that I should have spent more time at the exercise club. Now, as I sat on the floor of the bus, five men in Eastern European police uniforms boarded and "escorted" me to the local jail. I screamed bloody murder. "I want the American ambassador! This is an international outrage!"

After I'd spent three hours behind bars it was finally understood by the Warsaw cops that my failure to pay 15 cents for a bus ticket before boarding the bus was the root of the problem. The fact that I had refused to pay the fine of $40 to Rambo became the final outrage against the Warsaw bus company and led to my incarceration.

After coughing up 15 cents I was released and proceeded to find my very unhappy wife and we trudged to the American Embassy to report my less-than-hospitable treatment. I received a warm welcome from the consul. He told me he would report our treatment to the head of the Warsaw police and I left fairly satisfied and proceeded to return to the tourist mode.

I wish that this was the end of my story. I wish I had followed my mother's rule: "If the bus is a problem take a cab." The following day, I proceeded to ride the same bus route. This time, with head held high and bus ticket firmly in hand, I boarded and within three seconds was pickpocketed. My money was now gone. After I called the American consul again, he gave me the following advice: "Get the hell out of Poland!"

Within two hours we were escorted by guards to the overnight train to Prague. (Yes, we bought tickets before getting on the train.)

As the consul put us on the train, he handed me a card with the address of the American Embassy in Prague. He said he was convinced that with our luck we might soon need it.

( Harry Shaw, Owings Mills

LIFE'S A BEACH. NOT!

In July 1992, my husband and I, our two little boys, ages 2 and 4, and a 12-year-old baby sitter joyfully squeezed ourselves into our overpacked van for our trip to the Jersey shore.

The morning after we arrived, we headed out early and had a pleasant morning watching the children play at the beach. My husband and I, giddy with hopes of time alone, took the kids

back to the house later to nap and stay with the sitter. We went back to the beach, armed this time with cheese and crackers and wine, a can of beer and books. I carefully surveyed the sign and the beach and saw there was no prohibition on alcohol.

We got ourselves situated, smiled and uttered sounds of contentment. How about a toast to this quiet moment of togetherness? That we did, and lay back to enjoy the warmth of the sun. Moments later a young man in a police uniform stood over us. He was the Beach Patrol officer, he explained, and asked if that was our empty beer can. When we admitted it was, he told us that we were under arrest for violating the public drinking law and were to be fined $100. He held me at the beach as collateral and the beer can as evidence while Bob returned to the house for identification.

Bob came back equipped with a camera to illustrate for a future court date the mammoth garbage can hiding the "No Drinking of Alcohol" sign. The policeman would not back down in light of this new evidence and our annoyance escalated. "Look who you're arresting," we pleaded, "an insurance man from Iowa and a social worker who used to be a drug and alcohol counselor." Our anger grew and we made some unkind remarks about "getting a real job," etc. So much for our lovely day at the beach.

All evening long Bob fumed, yet the next day we decided to put all this behind us. Spirits renewed, we took the kids up to the beach. Things were going quite nicely when Krista, the baby sitter, and I went for funnel cakes. Bob was playing with the kids at the water.

We sat on the bench looking down to the beach when I noticed a little boy holding a policeman's hand. "Oh look, Krista, that poor little boy must be Sean's age." Next thing I knew the lifeguard is holding this parentally neglected child above his head, blowing his whistle so all could see. "Sure looks like Sean," I thought and then noticed my frantic husband holding my youngest son and running to the scene.

We met at the lifeguard stand throwing our arms around our child, who stood with our policeman friend from the previous day. Not only were we lawbreakers in his eyes, now we were also unfit parents!

The remainder of the trip went smoothly despite the nTC record-breaking torrential rain that followed daily. It kept us off the beach, however, which we viewed as a blessing.

My husband's summons for court didn't arrive until a month later. I sent the judge the garbage-can picture with a note. The charges were dropped and our vacation nightmare was finally over.

Donna Latta, Reisterstown