Romantic Times Trip Report Chapter 5 #RT14 Semi-Private Shower

New the the Report? START HERE Chapter 1

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So before we get to chapter 5, I want to share a little titty diddy that happened yesterday.

Ugh. So I had to go into the Verizon Store, which is like a punishment on a punishment. It's like where they send you if you commit a crime in Wal-Mart. I hate it there. It's so annoying. But I had to go. I pull in to the lot and the spot right in front of the door is free. I grumble. I get out. Both doors are propped open so I didn't even have to use my arms to get into the store. The girl greets me at the door, shows me to an open teller and my problem is fixed in less than two minutes. So fine. This time worked out but screw you Verizon, the last time I was there (about two years ago) it sucked. I don't forget easy and it's tough to teach me new things so I will hold on to this grudge no matter what. On the way out I drop my keys (of course, fuck you Verizon) and I have to pick them up. Even though it's empty there are 400 people there because Verizon that's why. So I have to pick up the keys. In a pin quiet, packed place. No one has anything else to do except watch the grumbly lady pick up her keys. So do I bend over and moon everyone? No. Plus, farting. So do I bend one knee and swoop to grab them? Well, then there would be all the popping noises my knee can make. People would think it was gunfire. So what do I settle on? A plié. Ask me how often I've done a plié in my life? Never. I've never done one before ever. So now's a great time to try an execute this fun move. The good news is I managed to not crack my goddamn head open. The bad news is I pulled a muscle in arch of both feet and my vagina. I suck. Not as hard as Verizon, but I suck.




Okay so I tweet the above status and Verizon tweeted me back. (Mind you, they only saw the first two sentences): @Debra_Anastasia I can understand how that would be frustrating. Is there something that I can help you with? *MT My response: .@VZWSupport No actually the store was perfect yesterday. Keep up the good work! It was my fault I pulled a vagina muscle, not yours.

Curious to see if they respond. Poor companies thinking it’s safe to tweet my crazy ass.

Anyway, back to deciding to go out in New Orleans at 11:30pm on a Tuesday just quick to hug my bff and then run back into the hotel. What could go wrong? According to Siri everything was great. Karen’s hotel was just across the street. When I get out to the sidewalk, I immediately make the wrong turn and cross the main road there. (Canal Street maybe?)

New Orleans has the most giant holes in the sidewalk ever. Like not just a “oops a squirrel buried a nut here and now I tripped", but "Hoffa buried a few bodies here and forgot to put the dirt back in kind of holes." Ridiculous.

Now I live in a leafy, farmy place in the world normally, but I’m from New York so when I gauge the surrounding atmosphere I know I’m in a purse-across-your-chest-be-mean kind of situation. 


It takes about 8 minutes of me pinging around aimlessly on Canal Street before my friend can corral me and slow my roll. We hug. She looks amazing and confident.
Karen and I

Let me explain a little bit about Karen; she’s traveled the world, or at least been to another country. Her family is fairly well spread out in the US, so planes, unique cities and exploring doesn’t phase her.

We are totally jazzed to be standing in front of one another and hate to just hug and leave.

“Should we try and get a drink?”

I mean New Orleans is kind of known for their drinking. We start walking to Bourbon Street.

Yeah, we soon realized this was not the coolest idea. We stepped over vomit, dodged the giant holes, and were trying to pay attention to what was going on around us.

I look at Karen, “I’ve got no tolerance to alcohol. If I have four sips I will actually go to sleep on Bourbon Street.

We walk back to Canal and part ways with promises to get together as soon as possible tomorrow. We both arrive back in our hotels. I look at my vomity, airplaned feet and really need a shower.

I wake up my sister and talk some more. She deals with me despite her own exhaustion because she’s had a lifetime of my weird shit.

Now it’s shower time. The bathroom is wicked spacious. Play a game of football spacious. But it’s not because of the luxury. You totally know it’s huge because they turned this quirky old building into a hotel. The one shelf for your clean underwear and bullshit is right above the crapper. No lid on that crapper, so there is like a 50/50 chance of dunking your pj’s in the water.

I get in the shower after carefully balancing my underwear on the shelf. La la. Shower shower. Now it’s time for the hair. Do do. La la. Soap up my hair. Dance a little because I’m alive despite my fairly stupid idea to wander NOLA alone at night. Do do.

And as I turn to rinse shampoo I look out the window and lock eyes with a guy on street level. I smile because I’m nice and then I realize I’ve LOCKED EYES WITH A STRANGER while taking a shower. 


I drop low, soap in my face now.

The shower has a HUGE bay style window. I had wrongly assumed that the hotel would have put up some sort of treatment that would ensure your privacy.

No. No. That was not the case. You see they had old, clunky venetian blinds. There’s a trick to those bastards, by the way. I learned this important lesson when my family lived in the apartment after my house was demolished in Hurricane Irene. At night, when the lights are on inside and the sun has turned off outside you have to be very careful with your blind angling. If the blinds are on an upper floor and you point them down, people can see in as if you didn’t shut them at all.

So obviously, there are two dudes on the street and I’m on the second floor. While staying crouched, I adjusted the blinds to angle up. And that’s when I saw the party they were having on the third floor in the building across the street.And the reverse is true of the blinds. If you point them up, people above you can see in.

Shit.

So I angle it down again, trying to forget that I just flashed a group of humans with my crouching naked form. (Which is a super flattering stance, BTW)

I step out of the shower and cross the vast expanse of the bathroom and grab a towel, intending to tuck it into the window treatment. Well, I think they built the old building around these venetian blinds. I think they were the prototype that the actual Venetian people created.

I was fairly certain that if I tried to tuck the towel in, the treatments would crumble under my hands.

Agghh. I’m soapy but not clean. I’m tired but also not sleepy enough to do a bead dance in New Orleans without a care. I look out of the blinds. Dudes are still there. They toast my frustrated face with the beer they were able to find. Fuckers.

So I did the only thing I could think of. I draped the towel over my head and took my shower under it. Like ET in the basket. 


I crawl out of the tub at the end of it all and finally get dressed and fall into bed. It’s a comfy mattress probably made out of the bodies of the tourist that have fallen in the sidewalk holes before me.

Because we are changing hotels in the morning, I want to make sure I get up early enough to get dolled up and packed. I wasn’t sure if I would be hotel-less until check in at the JW Marriott. (I can use their actual name, not like West Bestern because the JW rocked.)

It was 1:00am NOLA time when I got in bed. Which thanks to crazy time zone math I was falling asleep at Thursday of last week.

My alarm is set for 8. I have a meeting with the Omnific executive team at 9. My panel is 1:15pm. All good.

I wake up at 7:10am to a slammed hotel room door. My sister is pacing the room cursing under her breath. I pry open one eye and look at her. She’s not hurt, so my first assumption that she’d fallen in a hole was incorrect.

“My AARP card ....charging me money to look at it... I’m calling AA and West Bestern’s corporate number.... Assholes.”

I frown. Apparently my sister is mad that she didn’t get her alcoholic senior discount and has to arrange a merger with corporate.

I prop up and try and think harder. “What?”

Well it turns out my sweet sister was trying to pay for the hotel, get it done before I woke up. She’s all dressed and looks gorgeous. 
Pam


I think I’m still wearing mostly soap. Which my vagina will hate once I get her walking around.

When she looked at her bill they had charged her $12.95 to look at her AAA card. Which was supposed to give her a $10 discount on the room. So she paid $2.95 extra to get the “deal.” And then the front desk was super mean about it and gave literally two shits about common sense. Totally understood where she’s coming from.

How do I put this delicately? The women in my family are bitches. Yes, that works. We are nice, friendly and helpful, but the second you ask us to grab our ankles and hang on for the screwing we kind of rear up.

So I know my sister (like I would have or my mother would have) gave them a teeny tiny bit of hell.

So I look at her pretty face and know there is a HUGE chance that an angry Creole man might barge into our room and toss out suitcases over the charming balcony and I will be dressed in soap and pajamas for my meeting with the executive board. 


I hop up like the bed is on fire and start slapping on my panel outfit ASAP.

I hear my sister on the phone. First it’s AAA. Which is good because I can’t find my bra.

Locate the tit prison. Insert boobs. Wrap dress on.

Oh no. She’s onto West Bestern’s corporate number. I start scraping some make up on my face, deodorant.

Corporate is closed. (Thank heavens!) So the only fear I have is the local one. My sister is packing. Fuming. I commiserate while I rush around to find all my bullshit. Purse, flower for my hair, jewelry. Oh god. One quick sweep and we are out --leaving the lobby at 7:45am. 

I call the JW. They have a room ready for us right now! Blessings. We do the whole procedure in their amazing lobby. I think this is the nicest hotel I’ve ever stayed in. It wasn’t the convention hotel, but across the street (for real this time Siri!) By the time we are checked in, I’m looking at my phone. I want to be a bit early for the meeting. Sister is going to unpack. Refresh the lipstick and I’m out the door. I find the restaurant I’m supposed to meet fairly easily. The convention hotel is bustling it’s ass off. Do I need to register now? I don’t want to be late for the meeting.

Now, I work in a strange business. The ladies I’m going to meet are friends, but I’ve only met two of them in person before. I’m super excited because I finally get to hug them. All of them. In particular Dr. Elizabeth Harper, who is the Omnific head honcho. Why? Because when no one else would take a chance on a bizarre author that wrote a book in the homeless romance genre, she welcomed me with open arms.

And because she did, I wound up hugging my book in real life and changing how I define my stay on this planet.

Chapter 6- I’m gonna be fangirling. I’m also in a fairly fancy restaurant and I normally shop in Wal-Mart. No worries, right?



4 comments:

  1. We have to hear if your sis got that insane charge removed.

    still with you on this crazy trip...

    ReplyDelete
  2. An epic cautionary tale. I know what places to steer clear of, now. *shudders*

    ReplyDelete

 

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