Oh it's been a MONTH. A MONTH?! Really? Can one even call oneself a successful blogger after a month.
Oh, hell freaking yes I can...keep reading.
Every year I take a few days and leave town. Alone. No Coach and no minis. 2 years ago I went to Charlotte. Last year I went to Oprah. This year I went to the beach. Sort of.
On Sunday morning I loaded up the new (not yet monogrammed silver 2012 Town and Country. Also known as the "damn car I had to buy after the monogrammed minivan was totaled") car. I lovingly placed my well packed suitcase in the back of the car. I kissed the minis and hugged the Nanny. I got a Skinny Vanilla Latte and put NPR on the radio. (Sidenote: NPR's "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me!" is a favorite. I am a nerd Work it out.)
Put the hotel address in the nav and headed down I-20. To tell you that I was anxious to relax and enjoy the next 3 days is possibly the biggest understatement of 2011. 2011; year of the Epic Fail.
Sunday night I ordered a spinach salad with grilled chicken. Roughly an hour later I began the downward spiral of breaking every single ironclad rule of hotel stay.
Violent food poisoning ensued. For the next 8 hours.
Rule #1 of hotel stay: Never, never sit or God forbid lie down on the floor.
Yeah, that. Not only did I SIT on the bathroom floor, I straight up stripped off my clothes and lay on that cold tile. I pressed my FACE against that floor and begged for a reprieve from what you now know was the 2011 Epic Food Poisoning Fail.
Rule #2 of hotel stay: Never, never allow a hotel blanket to touch your body without the protective layer of a clean sheet in between. Yeah, that too. After about 3 hours of lying on that cold tile in my panties and bra, I was beyond freezing. So I did indeed drag a hotel blanket in to the bathroom and allow it to touch me. Bed bugs be damned, at that point I was making barters with God.
Rule #3 of hotel stay: Never, never take an actual bath in the hotel tub. Yeah, that as well. Some time around 6am, shivering, sweating and with less than a clear head, I decided that a bath *might* make me either feel better or at a minimum WANT TO DIE LESS, I indeed ran a hot bath and got in. As I sat in the hotel bathtub, visions of MRSA danced through my head. Screw it, I may die of MRSA, but I would be clean. Ish.
Sometime after the sun came up, it occurred to me that I had a bottle of Phenergan in my car. The emergency migraine kit. Praise God. I dragged myself off the floor and put on what can only be described as Homeless Chic. Pink silk pajama pants and a not that clean black fleece. I couldn't bring myself to lace up my trainers or put on socks, so I made the interesting shoe choice of black ballet flats with jewels across the toe.
My hair was a disaster and eye makeup? Well, I call bullshank on that being waterproof mascara. Anyway.
I got on the elevator and pressed the lobby button.
When the doors opened, I can only imagine the noise that came from my throat. I took one step off the elevator and looked up. I had walked ONTO THE SET OF A MOVIE. For real and stuff. They were filming a MOVIE in the lobby of the hotel. Dear God.
Someone took me by the elbow and escorted me around the hotel to my car. No questions asked. Raised eyebrows for sure, but no questions.
2 doses of Phenergan and a day of sleep later... turns out I WAS just one adventure with salmonella away from a smaller jean size.
Epic Fail?
DUH.
