Okay, so, Florida. I think instead of one long post, I’ll just do little short ones. That way it’ll be less daunting, and you’ll actually get to read about the vacation. Instead of me meaning to blog it, and not.
So, Wednesday night we packed, did last minute things, mooched around the house. I can’t remember if we went to Target Tuesday or Wednesday – but it doesn’t matter, because the salient point is, we *did* go to Target, to get a gift off their registry, and I picked up a super duper cute apron dress. So, Thursday we drive to Florida, and I am wearing my new super duper cute apron dress. Yay! We took turns driving – Greg usually does all the driving, and he can handle long turns at the wheel, but I would have felt bad letting him drive all the way to Florida. Plus he always threatens to not stop for anything, and I need food and bathroom breaks. And stretch breaks. Something. Anyway, I took a couple turns, but for some reason driving made me ridiculously sleepy, so I think the longest turn I took was probably an hour and a half, maybe two hours. Whatever. We took turns, and I made Greg listen to Thank You, Jeeves – turns out, he likes Wodehouse! Another yay. Anyway, the whole trip, with food breaks and bathroom breaks, etc, even hitting some traffic, took only ten hours. Pretty sweet.
We get to the hotel (Embassy Suites), and it seems there was a little mix-up about the rooms. Jon said his mom had reserved rooms for Friday through Monday – but we were staying Thursday through Sunday, so we just booked a room for Thursday night, figuring we’d switch Friday morning, no biggie. Turns out, Jon meant his mom had blocked off a set of rooms, for us to all call and make reservations from, so the wedding party and guests would be near each other. Oops! (And actually, when faced with the realization that we had no room after Thursday night, my thoughts were more along the lines of “Oh shit! Oh! SHIT!”) Luckily, Embassy Suites is the bomb, and they very kindly extended our reservation through Sunday – at the wedding party discount rate, even! Sweet!
So, that was taken care of. We got up to the room, and I was so relieved at *having* a room through Sunday, that I promptly dove onto the bed. And popped off one of the buttons that attached the straps to the dress. Boo. So I had to change clothes. Oh well. The two other groomsmen staying in the room with us (Danny and Graedon) hadn’t arrived yet, so we went to the other groomsmens’s room to hang out with Jeff and Job (who were also short two roommates: Brian and Brett), who were in the other building because they’d gotten a smoking room. The nice thing about this arrangement is that all the partying took place in the smoking room, which meant I could butt out when I got tired and go back to our room and sleep in peace. Which I did. And apparently the partying continued – I heard something about wrestling? Greg had a couple scrapes on him. And at some point (although it may have been later in the weekend), Jeff punched Greg in the nuts, and Greg thanked him for it. (I have to assume he was *incredibly* shitfaced at this point, since when I merely accidentally brush his nuts, he rolls around in pain and yells. Or maybe there was rolling around and yelling in between the punch and the thank you. I guess I’ll never know. The things you miss when you’re an old lady and go to bed early.)
I should backtrack here and tell you that the first thing I did – well, after popping that button, but before hanging out with Jeff and Job – was to sit down with the little guest services/information booklet. You know Big Girl likes to eat. She also likes to take full advantage of the perks of staying in a shi-shi* hotel like Embassy Suites. (Possibly I was influenced by knowing that in a couple days we’d be checking into a bare-minimums hotel for the Disneyworld part of our trip.) So I knew all about the complimentary, full made-to-order breakfast (are you serious!), as well as the “manager’s reception” (free drinks between 5 and 7pm, which, somewhat sadly, we never took advantage of). So when I went to bed Thursday night, I made sure to set my phone’s alarm to wake up with plenty of time to get breakfast. I was going to eat breakfast every day we were there no matter what – even if I just got up, went downstairs in my jimjams, ate breakfast, and then went right back to bed. I woke up when the boys came in, and asked Greg if he wanted me to get him up for breakfast, and he did.
I wake Friday morning, and try to wake Greg up – he’s still tired, and wants me to wake him up when I get back from breakfast. I go downstairs, and have a delicious breakfast. It was splendid. Come back upstairs, try to get Greg up – he’s decided to skip breakfast today, too tired. I go back to sleep.
When we get up later, around lunchtime, Danny and Graedon are talking about their excellent breakfasts, too – and Greg decides he’s craving an omelette. He thought we passed a WaffleHouse on our way in, so we go looking for that, but all we find is a Denny’s. So we went to Denny’s – I got a cheeseburger (did you know they have Boca patties at Denny’s? it was sweet!), and Greg got his omelette. The greasiest omelette I’ve seen in as long as I can remember. And he washed it down with coffee, of course. It was getting close to time for the rehearsal, so we headed back to the hotel to get ready – taking showers, changing clothes, etc. While I’m in the bathroom, I hear Greg start throwing up – apparently brushing his teeth didn’t sit well with his stomach. (I guess after all the drinking the night before, then the greasy omelette and coffee, toothpaste was the last straw.) Greg had been watching television with Danny and Graedon, and they didn’t believe him when he suddenly announced, “I think I’m gonna go throw up now.” But he got up, walked over to the little sink next to the mini-fridge (I was in the bathroom, and the trashcan was small and overflowing already), and started barfing. I got out of the bathroom as soon as I could (my weak stomach means if I heard, smelled, or saw too much of it, I’d start puking, too), but caught a glimpse of the sink on my way into our room – it looked like gnarly hot and sour soup. Just…coffee and bile, with strips of egg. Disgusting. I hid in the bedroom until it was all over and cleaned up – and to clean it up after he was done, Greg had to use a highball glass to scoop his puke into an extra trash bag we’d had in the room. He threw it in a trashcan out in the hall somewhere, rinsed out the sink and the glass. Grody.
And then we went to the rehearsal. More vacation hijinx later.
*I don’t actually know how to spell this. I know it sounds like “shi-shi.” I’m pretty sure it’s not “chi-chi,” although I did wonder for a moment if it was perhaps a shortening of “chic” or “chic chic” (maybe meant to imply tres chic?), but whatever.