Back in the 80s, Chevy Chase and National Lampoon’s created
an iconic character whose name would become synonymous with good intentions going
awry. All Clark Griswold wanted to do
was give his family the vacation of a lifetime.
And certainly he did, though not exactly how he intended.
So too was the desire of my own Mr. G in his quest to give
me a Valentine’s Day weekend we wouldn’t forget.
And we won’t.
Even if we tried.
It happened like this…
“I really wish you would come with
me,” Joe said as he fumbled about the house packing up the last of his gear
last Friday. He was about to set off on
a freelance gig to film the Flavor Run in Orlando the next day. He asked me along so that when he was
finished the two of us could set off on our own for a nice little Valentine’s
Day celebration.
“We could get another hotel room for
Saturday night, go to Universal Studios, get some dinner out. It would be great!” he said with such love in
his eyes as he took my hand.
Originally
I had begged off, saying I wanted to have some time to myself to get the house
clean and run some errands, thinking we would have our Valentine’s Day on
Saturday when he got home. But as he
squeezed my hand, I suddenly didn’t care about errands or the house.
Joe called
his contact for the race and found out that I could run it for free while he
filmed. Meanwhile, I called my parents
to see if they would be willing to watch the dog for our impromptu weekend
getaway. Before I knew it, I was
throwing random clothes in a bag of my own, dropping the dog off with the
rents, and sitting beside my husband in his car as we sped off to Orlando.
After a few
hours of driving we finally pulled up to our hotel, the Country Inn and Suites. As we were checking in, Joe asked about availability
for the next night as well.
“Oh, no,
sorry. We’re all booked up for tomorrow
night,” the kid behind the counter said.
We simply
shrugged, supposing it would be expected for Orlando, especially for
Valentine’s Day weekend. Then the kid
informed us that the free breakfast wouldn’t begin till 7 a.m. Another bummer since we would have to be at
the race around then. Still, we didn’t
let these tiny setbacks damper our mood.
We were in the same town of the happiest place on earth, after all! We got to bed at a reasonable hour, excited
about our adventure.
The next
morning, we woke up groggily at around 6 a.m.
It was even earlier in the morning than either of us usually gets up for
work, so we both grumbled a bit at being up so early on a weekend, but we
rallied. I slowly began repacking up
while Joe lingered in the shower. We ran
downstairs and were happily surprised to see breakfast was just beginning to be
served. I slammed a small bowl of cereal
while Joe ate some delicious hotel pancakes and then we were off to the races.
We had some
issues getting there. For one, we
couldn’t exactly figure out how to get to the race. And then when we got there, we were informed
that we needed to pay to park, a detail no one told us about. I dealt with that while Joe grabbed his
camera and gear and rushed off to meet with his client. I finally met back up with him and the client
and he kindly registered me for the race.
While Joe
went around filming, I was left to my own devices waiting for the race to
begin. I talked to some vendors, bought
some Flavor Run merchandise and awkwardly angled a few selfies with some clever
signs that I shared on Facebook. Just
then, over the loudspeaker, they announced that a trainer was going to give
some warm-up exercises for everyone. I
found a spot in the crowd, trying to ignore the feelings of self-consciousness
I felt as I stood amongst groups of friends and couples, and began to follow
her movements. I still had my phone with
me so I discreetly slipped it inside my shirt and into my sports bra. Unfortunately it was not as secure as I had
hoped.
On the first jumping jack, I
suddenly felt my phone slip and nearly fall right out of my shirt in front of
everyone. I grabbed it just in time and
sheepishly dodged out of the crowd to fix myself. After that, I merely stood back and watched
everyone, suddenly worried about what to do with my phone during the race. Joe was running around who knows where, and I
couldn’t just leave it with his stuff out in the open. I couldn’t just hold it either, since the
whole point of the race was to be pelted with colored cornstarch, so I decided
I just needed to secure it tighter in my sports bra.
They called
for starting positions and as soon as they finished the countdown, they
released us (and four canons filled with yellow powder). I was off- and so was the phone. Within a few paces, I felt it once again
begin to slip down and through my shirt.
As soon as I hit a spot clear of wisecracking kids and judgmental women,
I quickly grabbed it from inside my shirt and decided I would have no choice
but to hold it.
Then I
approached one of the spots where the volunteers pour more powder on you. I abruptly changed my mind and slipped it
back inside my shirt, fearing for its safety.
After I had gone through the blue and red cloud, I immediately grabbed
my phone again. Thus, this was how I ran
the Flavor Run- 3 and some odd miles, sporadically with my hand down my own
shirt like a perverted mental case in running sneakers. By the time it was all over, I was multiple
shades or blue, green, yellow and grey.
And my phone was almost just as bad.
So much for that.
As Joe
finished up filming and we said our goodbyes, we drove to the nearest
restaurant to eat and make a plan for the rest of the weekend. As I sat there in my sweaty, albeit colorful
clothes, I suddenly had an idea.
“You know
what I feel like? Instead of spending a
fortune at the parks, maybe we ought to drive back towards Tampa? We could find hotels there that wouldn’t be
so astronomical as they are here in Orlando.
Plus we could get all dolled up and go to the casino!” I said
excitedly.
Our waitress overheard our plans
and added, “Yeah and you know the state fair is going on now too! You guys should go do that.”
Joe and I lit up. It was everything we wanted. We would stop at the store so I could pick up
a little dress and shoes for the evening (since I realized I forgot to pack
anything nice) and then get to a hotel near the casino that had a shuttle. Walk to the fairgrounds and putter around
there for a bit before coming back to the hotel for a little rest and then get
the shuttle to the casino for the night.
Joe pulled out his phone and booked a room at the Fairfield Inn within
minutes of the casino and fairgrounds.
We raised our beers with dusty hands and toasted the new plan. It was perfect. What could go wrong?
We finished eating and got back in
the car and made our way to the outlets so that I could buy an inexpensive
little outfit. When that was
accomplished (a little later than we hoped) we hopped back in the car. As we fought our way through the heavy
Orlando traffic, we both began to feel the fatigue of the day begin to catch up
to us. Joe was longing for a bed to rest
his weary back and I was dreaming of a nice long bubble bath to scrub my chalky
skin clean.
After what felt like an eternity,
we finally arrived back in Tampa, excited to get to our room. Joe went up to the desk to check in and was
met with bad news.
“You booked today?” the man asked,
looking around his desk.
“Yeah, it was a few hours ago,” Joe
said wearily. The man asked for his last
name again and assured him that the reservation was not there.
“We’ve been booked solid for a few
weeks now, what with the fair and all,” he said, avoiding Joe’s eye
contact. He immediately grabbed his
phone to show the man his reservation, and his face fell.
“I know for a fact that I had
booked this for today- but for some reason it booked it for two weeks from
now!” Joe said flabbergasted. He joined
me on the lobby sofa and busily looked for another hotel. We had forgotten that not only was it
Valentine’s Day weekend, but one of the last weekends for the state fair.
“Ah!” Joe exclaimed, “Two rooms
left at the Hampton Inn down the road a few miles.” Joe booked it and we were off, still dreaming
of a nice bed and hot bath.
I gave Joe the directions to the
Hampton but somehow they lead us to some rural neighborhoods with big mansions
with big pick-up trucks sitting in the driveway. We even passed the oddest “tiki bar” we had
ever seen. It was attached to a
mechanic’s garage and painted green with an open deck area, with several angry
looking Harley Davidson owners perched on the sides. Wasted away again in Margarita-kill…, I
thought.
We finally arrived at the Hampton
and happy to see it was as nice as the Fairfield, with a shuttle to the casino
as well. I slumped down in a chair as
Joe gave his name to the concierge.
“Oh, you just booked today?” he
asked kindly.
“Yep…it was just a few minutes ago
but the website said you had two rooms left,” Joe said, trying to keep a handle
on his growing impatience. The man went
into the back and returned with two pieces of paper.
“Ohh, I see. Hmm…” he said quietly. Not a good sign, I thought.
“It seems they allowed you to book,
but we’ve been all booked since earlier today.
They shouldn’t have even let you make the reservation,” he said,
sincerely apologetic. Joe, who had had
enough, was suddenly conjuring up all the things he would love to do to the
person who invented the hotel booking website he used. He asked the concierge to please put in a
call for them and see what happened.
After almost an hour of getting
nowhere with the website customer service, I debated on whether we should just
drive the rest of the way home. But Joe
wouldn’t have it.
“No. We are GOING to make something of this
night. We are GOING to find a hotel
somewhere and we are GOING to have a romantic evening,” I said through gritted
teeth. I clamped down and decided to
just go with whatever he decided.
Eventually the concierge suggested
we try one of their sister properties.
He made a call (while still waiting on hold with the hotel booking
website customer service) and found out they had one room left. Defeated and exhausted, we gave up on the
website and booked a room at a third hotel.
As we were leaving, the concierge took Joe’s cell number to let us know
if we got charged for the room we wouldn’t be able to use and gave us quick
directions to the hotel.
By now, I was feeling not just
tired and hungry; I was feeling overly tired and hungry. My stomach was beginning to feel queasy and
hot. And what we thought was just a ten
minute drive was actually a ten-mile drive, mostly spent behind a Thai food
truck that drove us crazy with its sweet and spicy scents.
When we had finally arrived at our
destination, our hopes and dreams for an elegant hotel room had been fully
dashed. The hallway reeked of weed and
the room itself smelled like mildew. And
my luxurious bath was replaced with a handicap shower. As I cleaned myself up standing in what
resembled a prison shower, I suddenly began to feel horribly dizzy and
sick. I finished my shower and climbed
onto the bed, willing myself to get up and get dressed for dinner. After a few minutes of air, I began to feel
better and my hunger returned. The lady
behind the counter had raved about a BBQ place that was just down the street
from our hotel. Perfect, we thought, and
off we went.
Unfortunately, the Valentine’s Day
Night-Massacre continued as we were met with a 45-minute wait and no bar even
to sit at and wait. We left and found
another well-reviewed BBQ place, only to have the dozens of people waiting
around outside signal to us that we would be waiting a while here as well. Finally, we opted for Carrabba’s, because it
was nearby and it would probably have a short wait.
At dinner, I began shoveling food
in so quickly that I began to make myself sick again. I sat there, stuffed beyond belief and trying
to psych myself up for Joe’s plan to see Deadpool that night. Sadly, it wasn’t meant to be. I was too tired and sick to my stomach and so
he graciously helped me back to the hotel room where we finished off the night
letting our food digest and watching hours of “Law & Order: SVU”.
In the morning, we woke up
determined to make something of this trip before heading home. We drove to the casino, each took out $40 to
play with and within an hour, I was up $40 more! With my winnings I took us both out to a
feast of a brunch at the casino’s buffet.
As we sat in the booth, bellies full of food, heads full of memories,
and hearts full of love, we reflected on the weekend, and all its
imperfections, and chuckled. It wouldn’t
be a love story without a little bit drama.
And it wouldn’t be our love story without a heavy bit of
ridiculous.
No comments:
Post a Comment