Road Trip Continued....

Dear Mr./Ms. Hotel Manager:

Thank you for your hospitality and great service this past weekend. The rooms were clean, the pool was excellent and the complementary breakfast (read: coffee) was very nice. I do however have a few comments for you for future reference.

Firstly when your reservation staff books a ‘team’ of any sort you might want to do a little demographic research on the team. In this case you have a team of 16 six and seven year olds and guess what? They all, but one, have siblings. You gotta at least double the number of children checking in. In our case there were some families where 2 or more siblings came along. Do the math buddy – the number of kids just tripled. Can you say kids freaking everywhere?

Secondly, excellent idea to put most of the team on one floor, but the top floor? What were your people thinking? Sixteen or more kids running up and down the four flights of stairs to get to the pool. You ever told a seven year old to be quiet while running up the stairs with a half a dozen of his buddies? Ya, not going to happen.

Thirdly, not sure if you noticed but you have a pub attached to your hotel. I can drum up at least a dozen reasons where problems are going to arise from that alone. Need I say more?

Lastly, and most importantly, what in the heck possessed your people to fill an entire floor with a team of orangutans EXCEPT for one room? And in that one room: old, cranky people who want to go to bed at 7:30 at night? To add insult to injury you stick the curmudgeons right beside the stairwell where, you guessed it, the kids were running up and down the stairs from the room to the pool, pool to the room. Who the heck goes on vacation to stay in a hotel room and go to bed that early? And where do these people come from who feel compelled to yell at little kids. Bed and breakfast people, bed and breakfast.

Thank you for an entertaining stay. If we ever come to your lovely town again we will be sure to book under a different name, however I do expect that you will take my suggestions into consideration.

Yours truly,
Team Manager

Road Trip - Part Two

No you will not be reading a detailed diary of the aforementioned Road Trip mostly because I spent the entire time searching for Monkeyboy who, with his clan of merry men, decided to practice his magic disappearing act the entire weekend. So between looking for my delinquent, fielding complaints from the hotel staff and answering questions about the location of places in a town I have never been to before (do I look like a concierge?) I wrote almost nothing.


The weekend did start off as odd as it ended however. Parked my vehicle at the ferry terminal to wait patiently for the next boat and was approached by a lady (and I use that term loosely) who wanted to know if I could give her husband a ride. Apparently their, what looked like 1970 VW, van broke down and he had a “gig” to get to. Well, let me think about that? Huh, sure lady, I’m gonna take your half baked, Birkenstock wearing husband with all his band stuff and give him a ride to some undisclosed location. What the heck. I like living on the edge. Does he have a weapon we should declare to? After I give the kid, who I am not pissed off with at this point, the “look” and tell him to get back in the vehicle I politely tell Mrs. Purple Hammer Pants that I don’t have room. Well, if nothing else she gave me something to chuckle about for a couple of hours.

My very enthusiastic plans to hit the pub and have a few bevys fell through as well. This event alone causes my blood pressure to rise. My babysitters were lured away. That’s all I can say.

Although I did not manage to document enough back up to politely tell the coach NO to the road trips next year I do have enough personal ammunition to remind him why this weekend should never be repeated. And remind him I will. Often.

The Road Trip - AKA: What the fuck was I thinking

I continually amaze myself at the predicaments I get myself into. Why, oh why can I not just sit back and do things the easy way? Alas, I must challenge my patience and inner resolve to be all that I can be in the parenting arena. This weekend I embark upon one of the great challenges of having a child who participates in sport. The Road Trip. (I can hear you all groaning now however, I am sure you cannot wait to read about and come along for the Ride of Pain.)  Yes, you read that right: A Road Trip with 16 six and seven year olds, a whack of siblings and all the respective parents who drew the short straw.

When the coach suggested a road trip at the beginning of the season it was all I could do to conjure up thoughts of what exactly will be fun about travelling with that many kids. I suppose it will be fun to play teams from other towns? Oh, honestly, that’s all I can come up with. I can just picture it now: 16 crazy Amazon children running all over the ferry, hotel and arena reeking havoc all over the place. Vacation you say? Oh no not for me. I have to stay in a hotel room with one man, two stinky teenagers and one Monkeyboy. I might just sleep in the car!
To make matters worse I was elected the Manager of this whole shin dig. I am sincerely hoping that by now the parents on the team have recognized my winning charm and propensity for sarcasm because, after an entire season of planning and abuse, if even one person complains I may go all Jerry Springer on their ass.

When I stop yelling I will keep a journal of the events that occur for your reading pleasure and for me to have a detailed record of the shenanigans so when I get asked again to book a road trip I will have sufficient documentation to back up my NO.

The Other Nine Reasons To Live in A Small Town

After much consultation and careful review, here are the other nine reasons to live in a small town:

 

1. You are almost certain to get healthy.  What with no McDonalds or any other restaurant with a drive through, your stuck living off the land.
2. Everyone knows everyone so when a local messes around with someone else’s spouse – you probably know that person enough to say you were either shocked or saw it comin.   
3. You are up to date and shockingly current on all celebrity comings and goings – what the heck else are you gonna do? Thank you satellite tv!
4. You know the names of every single dog in town. Even the strays. (And in some cases where they live, what their parents names are, what brand of dog food they eat, etc.)
5. Everyone just moves slower, especially when they are driving and you only have to put gas in the car once every two or three weeks, instead of every two or three days.  
6. You can just stop mowing the lawn and invite your neighbours goat, Bob, over.  
7. One day out of every 14 the local police force decides to throw on the siren, just so you know they are still around and protecting the place. From errant jaywalkers.  
8. There is a really high probability that your neighbours are going to be either farm animals or resting in the local cemetery.  
9. You can drive around in your pajamas with no make up on and no one gives a crap.

 

Goat Follies and One of the Top Ten Reasons To Live in a Small Town

I honestly think my pal Bambi is making this shit up. Who on earth do you know who "rescues" a goat, yes a goat, on the way to dropping her daughter off at work on any given morning? This is a bit of the email I got last week:

Scenerio this morning: drop daughter off at work, I'm in my pajamas because of course I don't anticipate getting out of the car. We drive by the same old farm that we always do and the goats have hopped the fence and are grazing by the side of the road. It's a gorgeous day so far so windows down, slowly driving and we hear "bahhhhhh, baaaaahhhh" as loud as can be.....and there's a goat with his head stuck in the fence. We turn around, pull over, the young man and I hop out and he runs over to the goat to comfort him. (I remind you, i'm in my pajamas). Cars are driving by, and now my son is bawling he's so upset about this poor goat. I phone a couple people and of course they know the owner's name, so I call him and he says he'll be right down. Meantime (I'm still in my pajamas!!!) we free the goat (not an easy task). All was right in animal kingdom.

I don't know about the rest of you but the most wildlife I see while driving in the morning usually consists of the road kill variety. So I am starting a new list: My top ten reasons to live in a small town - saving animals in pajamas (I should also include being able to get a strangers phone number in minutes within a couple of calls! What's with that?) The other nine reasons to live in a small town to follow.

Hoarders

Have you happened to catch the show Hoarders on the telly lately? The show is like a train wreck I tell ya. One of those things that completely grosses you out but you can’t NOT watch. It is amazing that a person or family can live in that much filth and clutter. I find myself at the edge of my seat for the last 45 minutes, waiting sooo patiently for someone to run into these houses with a Dr. Seuss size Cat in the Hat vacuum cleaner. You know, the kind that sucks up everything – even the spots! I wait in anticipation of the ‘big clean up’ at the end and rejoice with the people when they can finally sit at their dining room table after 8 long, junk filled years.

It is also amazing that some of the ‘hoarders’ look totally normal. Hair done, clean clothing, make up – the works. Where do some of these people get ready in the morning? Work? A hotel? I have seen the bathroom and there is no way someone can look that put together surrounding by that much yuck. Perhaps it’s a result of television camera crews following them around. Do they bring their make up people?

A friend and I had a little discussion the other day about this show. She confessed to being a hoader but not a ‘hoarder, hoarder’ (definition: obsessive keeper of things but not at the level of some of these poor, crazy people on the show). Don’t we all have a little hoarder in us? This show has caused my mother to watch religiously and deliberately get rid of a bag of stuff the next day. My fear is that in a couple of months I will show up at the old girls house and it will be completely empty. Is there a reverse hoarding disorder? If there is my mom’s got it.

What I want to know is if the network is going to do follow up shows? Are they going to go back in a years time and see if the hoarder is cured or have they begun the process of re-stocking the stuff and not tiding up? Does the network pay to have their therapy continue or do they run in with a fly-by-night psychologist, clean up the place and leave? Forever?

The bandwagon is calling. Time to start cleaning – one drawer at a time. Hey C – does the liquor cabinet count?