Occasionally I get the privilege of traveling outside the “big city” for work meetings. Today was one of those occasions.
With me on this trip is Fru Fru Pants, Road Husband and Tomatillo. Road Husband has traveled with Fru Fru Pants and I before and definitely prefers to not draw attention of others. We prefer to refer to ourselves as his sister wives which, conversely, often draws attention. Other items that draw attention: BumpIts. We don’t own any, just covet them. I did, however, suggest that Road Husband don one on our next road trip. He probably won’t buy one, which is ok, I just ordered one for him and fully plan to gift it to him next road trip.
Tomatillo is new to the mix. He’s a chipper amigo with a lot of great stories. In a way, he is like a new sister wife. Mostly because he got to sit in the front with Road Husband and chirp in his ear all the way here. He is unlike a sister wife in that he likes sisters, not brothers. Regardless, he was a perfect fit for our little mix. This became most obvious when he, out of nowhere, announced, “I’m strapped like a tictac and can breathe under water AND I can hold my breath for like 7.5 minutes.”
Upon arriving at the hotel we made sure to ask the most important questions: when is happy hour; where are the good restaurants; and, is it possible for others to hear what is going on in our rooms. With those questions answered, we all headed to our separate rooms.
Fru Fru Pants is typically in charge of booking the rooms. In the past, she and I shared a room. It was great. It was a smoking room, so we bummed some cigs from a guy in the bar, she pulled out her violin, and we had a delightful evening. That is, until the meat finally made its way through my digestive system. I asked Fru Fru Pants if my butt symphony was the reason she and I didn’t share a room this go round. She changed the subject.
After we all had some time to recoup from the drive, we decided to head into town for dinner. Keep in mind, we’d been on the road together for several hours and had shared several stories. It was a lot like confession. I don’t really know what confession is like, but I’ve seen it on tv, and it was a lot like that.
We picked the trendiest restaurant in town and settled in for some good grub and drink. It only took a few minutes of us being there before the couple next to us moved to a different table. We were glad for that – they were so quiet and reserved, it was a bit of a dining downer. Fru Fru Pants suggested I share my bedknobs and broomsticks story with the boys, however, Road Husband wanted me to wait until we were out of the restaurant.
So, instead of sharing my story, Fru Fru Pants shared a story from the good ol’ days. Road Husband was never so anxious to have someone process his credit card and Tomatillo, whose stories can top many stories, turned bright red (and everyone knows tomatillo is green). At the same time, several other patrons appeared to have heard the punchline. Luckily, our waitress quickly (not a surprise) brought us our bill and we were out the door.
Back at the hotel (isn’t that a song? no, it’s back to the hotel by n2deep), we all made our way to our rooms. I decided this was a good time to take advantage of a big, flat screen tv (I have, until recently, been enjoying a deep 19″…. tv).
Unfortunately, yet fortunately, the tv in my hotel room was only set up for audio and the tunes were old school. So, with 65 Love Affair playing on the “Audio Only” tv, I decided to pop in my retainers (top and bottom) and practice a few of my breakdancing moves. The songs (and my moves, I might add) are only getting better. Madonna. Human League. Jon Secada. Paper Lace. Barry Manilow. I finally understand why people want such big tvs, these songs (with “Audio Only” text flashing on a large black screen) are great!