My parents pick up Claire at 11 am. I go over detailed instructions, pack her things in the car and kiss her goodbye. She is totally oblivious ("Wheee! A car ride!"). I am already starting to miss her even though she's still in the driveway, but I let them take her to Austin anyway.
I get the first of many, many photos a few minutes later from my mother's iPhone:
Nope. She's not missing me.
I work from home for the first time in ten months that afternoon. I get more done in 5 hours in the kitchen, totally uninterrupted, than I can tackle in three days at my desk.
We get to The Parking Spot at 730 am for a 1030 am flight on Wednesday. The attendant tells us that there are spaces available on aisle V.
There are no spaces available on aisle V. Or any aisles actually.
The entire place is full and it took us ten minutes of circling to figure this out. However, there are tons of spots with cones in them marked "Reserved." Chris wants to park in one of the reserved spots. I don't want to park there because I'm afraid that we'll get in trouble when we get back. He puts the car into a reserved spot and runs over the cone and I get all sissy on him and wring my hands and say something like, "But Chriiiiiiis. We'll get in TROUBLE." Exactly who I think we will be in trouble with, or what the consequences might be, I have no idea.
All I know is that I have an unreasonable desire to follow the rules.
We roll up to the attendant and inquire, ever so politely, "What. The. Fuck. No. Parking. Spaces." She shrugs her shoulders indifferently and says that they must be full. We leave The Parking Spot in a fit of rage - they've wasted 20 minutes of our time and it's almost 8 am now.
We end up parking at the airport where their shuttle bus drops us off 20 yards from the door (again, WTF?). We decided to check a single bag and we have to pay $15 for it. We are flying Sun Country. (This will be important later.)
Chris produces a crisp $20 bill, fresh from the ATM. The attendant look at it like he's trying to hand her Claire's dirtiest-ever diaper. With a slight sneer, she says to him,
"I ain't got change."
Huh? No change? You're asking us for money to complete a transaction that you initiated and YOU DON'T HAVE CHANGE?
"No. No change. My supervisor has the change and she's not here and it's too early and I don't have change. No change."
I can't decide if her statement is a sly way to ask for a $5 tip or if she's not intelligent enough to find the words to ask for alternate payment. She just keeps refusing our $20 and doesn't ever offer any other options. In any case, Chris produces a credit card. We feel kind of smug about it since we know they'll have to pay an interchange fee and this ends up costing them more. Suckers.
We get on the plane. We notice that the seats I selected at Travelocity are not the same seats we are sitting in. I'm not sure if this is Sun Country's fault or Travelocity's but somehow our reservation has been jacked with. It doesn't really matter though because the body-builder who sits in our row leaves after take off to go sit with his buddies in the back of the plane.
Phrases yelled out during the flight by other passengers:
- It's time to get DRUUUUUNK! (we heard this one several times actually)
- Where's the drinks!?
- WOOOOO! CANCUN BAYBEEEEEEE!
- Let's get trashed!
Chris and I raise our eyebrows at each other and really hope that these people are not staying at our hotel.
We land and go through customs without incident. We pick up our suitcase and find that Sun Country has smashed/crushed/ripped the crap out of it.
The metal frame was crushed in and it ripped out the seams surrounding the zipper. The rip spans the corner and it's about 12 inches long. There are no Sun Country agents to be found in the baggage claim area so we head to the hotel and figure we'll deal with it later. I'm annoyed about it (since I paid FIFTEEN BUCKS for them to take care of my bag) but I'm not going to let it ruin my day.
But still. FIFTEEN BUCKS. FOR THAT. The damage is such that I'll have to put it out with bulky trash when we get home.
At the hotel though, people finally start to treat us nicely. You know, like WE'RE PAYING THEM. (Imagine that.)
We are greeted with cold washcloths that smell like lemons. The air conditioning is frigid and fantastic compared to the sweltering humidity outside. Everything is white and minimalist. I want to lay my head on the cool floor and take a nap for ten years.
Our room is fantastic. It is chilly, with soft linens and a ceiling fan, the biggest bathtub I've ever seen, 7 showerheads in one single shower and a view of the ocean. I immediately think that I could spend the entire vacation in this room and be perfectly happy.
And then I saw the pool and decided that no, I would rather spend the entire trip out there in a lounge chair while someone brought me drinks and sandwiches.
Do you see the genius of this pool? There are lounge chairs IN THE POOL. There's a ledge about three inches deep and 10 feet long that the chairs sit on and then the pool is 1.2 meters deep everywhere else. No kids allowed, so no shallow end needed. The entire thing is chest deep and perfect for lounging and drinking. They also had noodles so you could just float on one of those, sip away and gaze at the ocean. GENIUS.
Ocean? Pool? Ocean? Pool? I just can't tell the difference.
Yes! Another Club Sandwich please!