May 20, 2013

Where there's a will, there's a way

We were able to escape to the airport for our first weekend away in years without too many other hiccups, unless you count the fact that the kitchen sink chose this morning to back up.  It was gross, and not clearing with Coach's usual adjustments.  He tried to share details with me about traps, and his handy man diagnosis.  My interest was limited as I tried to run through all of the last minute details on my list.  I managed to call my dad, who as an accountant is more organized than your average human being, and he provided me with the plumber's phone number.  I left a rambling message for the plumber, who was my parent's plumber first so I indicated my relation to them hoping to cash in on their valued customer status.  I revealed the code to get into the house, begging him to repair the sink before Sunday at 3:00 when my mom would be holding down the fort.  Then we were off.  I only had to call my mom twice to share a few more tidbits with her, one of which was please put the smelly towels that were used to clean up the kitchen mess in the dryer when the load is done.

I traveled to Denver with a right butt cheek sporting a deep tissue-gray-stained-turtle-shaped bruise about the size of my hand with all of my fingers fanned out.  (read 'Ode to . . . pain in the ass!' to learn more about my early morning mishap) I believe it was the batman toy that left the biggest mark.  I made the necessary adjustments as I strode through the airport, switching my carryon bag to my left shoulder so it wouldn't continuously thump on my sore rump.  It was an uncomfortable flight as I hunkered down on my damaged ass.  As the bruise transformed from a dull gray to a beautiful array of colors, I did have Coach take a photo with my phone, which I promptly sent to Fozzy.  Now that is the measure of a true friend . . . someone who can view your injured ass and not disown you.

I'm not sure why I envisioned a luxury hotel with an outdoor pool, attentive staff, and a short walk to  downtown.  Maybe Coach told me were staying in a Hyatt and not a Hyatt Place.  Denver was a good distance from us, which bothered me little, since I really didn't care about exploring this unfamiliar city.  While I was initially disappointed that the hotel was only furnished with an indoor pool, I made due on Friday and Saturday by dragging a pool chair out to a grassy section across the parking lot to sunbathe with my nose buried in my book.  Coach and I ventured to downtown Denver Friday night for dinner and people watching. 

Sunday morning, after I enjoyed the complimentary breakfast where I lingered as long as I would allow myself to read my interesting book ('Those Who Save Us' by Jenna Blum),  I enjoyed a long walk while admiring the beautiful backdrop of the Rockies in  the distance.  That is when I noticed the apartment complex about a block away from our hotel.  The temperature was only expected to reach the '60's, but there were people laying beside the pool, and the sun was shining.  The gate, which looked like it was typically locked was propped open with a rock perhaps out of convenience for the child's birthday party that was being celebrated at the pool.  I pondered it the remainder of my walk.  It was worth a try.

After my walk, I raced into our hotel room and loaded up my bag with my book, snacks, phone, water bottle, and towel.  I sauntered into the pool unnoticed.  I dove for the first available lounge chair, and planted myself face down with my book extended to the side of the chair so I could read, and partially cover my unfamiliar face.  The chair was lined up perfectly with the sun, so no adjusting was necessary.  It was a big complex, so I couldn't believe the staff would know everyone who lived there.  This was living, even if it was a bit of a sneaky way of living.  It sure beat sitting upright in the pool chair at the edge of the hotel parking lot.  A boy tapped me on my shoulder at one point to ask me to retrieve his ball from under my chair, not to ask me what apartment I lived in, thankfully.  An adult, who may have been hosting the birthday party, invited me over to enjoy cocktails.  So, this was the attentive staff I imagined?  I thanked him, but stuck to my chair deciding that no sudden movements was my best bet.  My only mistake was that I lay on my belly the entire two hours I was there.  Although the air was cool, the sun punished me with a decent lobster-like burn on the back of my legs and back.  My front had received enough attention from the sun the previous day while sitting upright in the hotel chair, so I didn't want to overdo it.  My refusal to move, my enthralling book, and my knowledge that no one needed me to be anywhere aided me in losing track of time.  The shocking red color at the edge of my suit contrasts nicely with the purplish decorated portion of my dairy air.  At least I wasn't wearing a thong suit, which would have displayed my treacherous-toy butt bruise. 

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