Where to begin?
Do I share the beauty of going to an indoor water park with kids aged 9 and almost 12? Of being able to sit and read an entire depressing and wrenching and inspiring memoir all in one sitting, wearing street clothes, while my kids frolicked and cavorted in the water?
Of lifting my head from my serious reading matter to look around, ostensibly for the children, and glimpsing with pity lots of mommies of kids far younger than mine who were not yet free to say NO to the bathing suit and the enormous bucket of water pouring over their heads?
Do I share that this water park trip resulted in 2 epic telephone fights and a scheduling snafu that could have granted my eldest his wish of having divorced parents?
Do I share my opinion that chain hotel decor has come a long way from hunter green and floral by sharing this cool console table with you?
Instead, I think I'll share that for the second time in 2 weeks I was reminded of The Shining while staying in a hotel. Lest you conclude that I'm obsessed, perhaps you should see what slogan (?) Hampton Inn has decided to put inside every one of its elevators:
Seriously? Brilliant marketing, that.
But instead of dealing with a crazed murderer flashing his maniacal smile at me in an empty resort hotel, I was driven to distraction by another sort of foe:
A lovelorn teenager who parked himself on the floor outside our room as he had a heartfelt (loud!) phone conversation with his girlfriend. You know, one of those tortured, miserable conversations with pleading, sighing, and what-not?
Who needs in-room porn when your 11 year old can share, verbatim, these snippets and more with you:
"Well, I didn't know those kinds of pictures of you would make you uncomfortable."
"If you had been with any other guys before me you would understand all of this better."
At about 11:30 I had had enough. The driving, the reading, and the water park fries had done me in.
I hopped out of bed and charged to the door, wearing my tank top and undies, and decided to give him the kind of scare that would make Jack Nicholson look as cuddly as a Pillow Pet. As I angrily flipped the deadbolts, the kid jumped up and darted down the hall, narrowly missing a sighting that could have turned him off of women forevermore.
I slunk back to my bed and climbed in with my now-sleeping daughter.
...who had decided to take her half of the bed right down the middle.