I need a vacation right now so badly I can feel it in my gums. I need sunning and sleeping until 11, just in case I’d like to. I need room service but not the kind that knocks too loudly and demands to put the tray someplace other than the space I’ve created on the desk. I need clean, crisp hotel sheets tucked under the mattress with considerable fervor and skill. Ice water should be plentiful, yet please don’t let the charming young desk clerk have booked me near the ice machine or the elevator. The pool water should be warm. Make it short of Gulf of Mexico warm, as I have an ample tub in which to soak in hot bubbles should I want to. The television gets A&E, TruTV, the History Channel and porn, and the menu screen doesn’t come up every time I press the remote’s On button. There’s a corkscrew in the mini bar and glassware in the room. A minimum of 20 hangers dangle in the closet. There are no upstairs neighbors, most certainly none taught to speak above dulcet tones, and college spring breaks ended weeks earlier. I have a balcony and an ashtray. The hotel supplies conditioner whether or not I use it. Or should I decide to stuff it into my carry on every morning. Bliss™.
My clothes fit and least one outfit makes me feel unstoppable. A white v-neck tee and pale skirt are staples. Sandals complete the week, one pair with heels. If beaching, I’m red on the nose and shoulders, and sleeping in the minimum feels at once mischievous and soothing. My one pair of sunglasses is never out of reach. As I’m prone to doing in the real world, I wear them mostly on my head, holding back bothersome curls brought on by humidity. The scent of the week is Coppertone. Beach towels are plentiful and they cover my entire body, not the unflattering patches that catch their fabric. Other vacationers care not how they look surfside. They’re intoxicated by the days of peacefulness, time with Uncle Joe and his second wife, and sand up to their knobby knees. iPods are charged and contain all the right playlists. Adults enjoy the sea as children might, splashing about and giggling, yet steer clear of all hazards so as to keep the lifeguard whistles at bay. The breeze blows but uproots not a single umbrella. I fall asleep in the shade at least once. I talk to strangers and return to my hotel tipsy and giddy with a full and suntanned belly at least twice.
I don’t care if I tour the hosting city or town until at least the third day. Make most of my daytime drinks margaritas on the rocks, extra salt, but only one before noon, and not in the sun. I have a book to read and at least three magazines, two of which rate awards show clothing, one of which does so with considerable snark. One of the hotel bars is dark and contemporary in design and is never packed. In late afternoon, the bartender leaves me be but keeps an eye on the liquid level in my glass. One evening, I wear black with bare legs and glossed lips. There’s a dive restaurant within walking distance, where regulars warm bar stools as they have for at least a few hours before my arrival. All tip well. Women may or may not dance barefoot there, sandals in one hand and a glass of something pale and chilled in the other. Cell phones don’t dot every table and there are no toddlers vying for my bubble of conversation. Food is never an issue; hush puppies are found on one menu and Stilton and wine flights on the next. And karaoke does not exist, unless it’s loud and raucous and someone past her prime is singing Blondie. If that’s the case, I’m hoping it’s you up there rather than me. And I’m hoping I remembered my camera.
29 Comments
Perfect. When do we leave?
A minimum of 20 hangers???
Umm, that whole karaoke content would be funnier had I not just heard an asshat doing Aha’s “Take On Me” very, very poorly at 2:00 am.
And I will answer no questions about a version of “Wasted Away In Sandiegoville.” But with a live band so that’s something.
Great post – when can we leave?
take me …please!
I’m in like Flynn. And, I might even have a Bliss contact to help out in the HBA department. ;-)
This trip is getting awfully crowded. I’ll bring extra DND signs. :)
If you want to pick me up, I’ll be the guy on the side of GW Parkway (the NORTH EXIT that any moron can find) with a suitcase, a bucket of ice, and a monkey suit.
sounds like heaven to me.
you have such a way with words.
This sounds like perfection.
Wow. I’ve never wanted a vacation so bad in my life, and I want it to look exactly like that. Would I fit into your carry-on? How about your checked bag?
When is my flight & where am I meeting you? Seriously.
grooooaaaaaan. I have been reading you for aaaages and this pulled me out of my lurking silence to say how desperate I am for the above-described vacation. Yes, I am writing this from Australia; unfortunately, I’m writing it from an office in Melbourne. Please please please, ye gods of work, can I have a holiday?
Lovely.
I am ready, just tell me when!
Seriously. I got fully lost in this and am now mentally packing bathing suits and sundresses.
This is frigging beautiful. Absolutely perfect. Sigh…
Oh Amen sister.. I’m takin’ the room right next to yours….
I so want that. Take me with you!
It’s a 3 day weekend and now I want to go to the beach!
sounds perfect …..
when you book that vacation, please check the box for 2 adults. i’ll pay you back, i promise.
What is stopping you, my dear? (except for the pesky fact that reality is seldom how we dream it).
Unfortunately, Florida is underwater…and promises to be soaked throughout the long weekend…
So how ’bout Mexico?
Love.
You know … the invitation to Palm Springs in July still stands ! Your fantasy description is remarkably close to the reality …
i feel like i say the same thing every time….
but seriously, i think you sculpt words perfectly.
As someone who considers “roughing it” to be a hotel without 24 hour room service, wow does this resonate.
If only wishing could make it so for me…
Oh PLEASE some to get me tonight!! I WANNA GO!!!!
…please
Ooooh, can I come? I’ll be the one singing Blondie on karoake…wait, is 41 considered past my prime?! God, I hope not!