Yes, I don’t get nearly as much sun as I used to in my younger days, my lazy days, my summers by the pool days.  So, I burn with an alarming frequency that I never have in the past.  On the bright side, the burn quickly changes to a lovely bronze.  Yay!  And I get to come back to work looking rested.

After a first night of showers, it was a blessing to be basking in the sun the remainder of the weekend.  We woke up on our own schedules and readied ourselves for a big day at the marina.  Yup, the eight of us were going out on  a pontoon boat for half a day…ish.

It was ridiculously fun.

There was tubing.  Everyone went at least once.  Okay, maybe not Rachel the first day, but the second day she went crazy.  I went tubing twice.  First I went with Jennie.  And the second time I went with HIM.

Luckily, there are no pictures of either of these incidents.  I was mostly hanging on for dear life.  Any skill I had once had for tubing seems to have long disappeared.  Yeah, I was confident since I used to tube A LOT in my past life.  Not a good showing for me, but it was fun.

Then after the pontoon boats on Saturday, we hung out at the pool.  It was nice to kick back and relax…before going to get ice cream.  (You know I had to get ice cream at least once this trip.)  And our families kind of split up and did their own thing at that point.

Rachel, HIM, and me…we went to look for the hiking outfitter store that used to be on the resort premises.  Rachel thinks she wants to hike the entire Appalachian Trail.  I think she is crazy and will last all of a week.  HE thinks that she may last a tad longer since she doesn’t mind not shaving.  I say let the betting begin.

And we had a really disappointing dinner that night at the resort.  Let’s just say that they ran out of pork.  And I really wanted pork.  The beef substitute was more like beef jerky.  And I finally found a coleslaw I don’t like.

Then on Sunday, more water fun.  This time, Jennie’s family and my kids rode the tubes on the pontoon boat, while me and HIM were on a jet ski.

We’ve been on jet skis all over.  And I must say that the jet ski on the lake during this trip was the best.  There were no restrictions.  We could ride all over.  We could go as fast or slow or be out for as long as we wanted.  Nearly two hours later we’d had enough.  That was after we’d been all over, done donuts, and pretty much dominated the lake.

And even though HE is a bit of a dare devil and relishes the chance to try to make me squeal and gasp and beg him to slow down, this time, I found myself relaxing into the ride, relaxing into the trip, the day, and our time together.  We needed the down time.  We needed the moments, however fleeting, to be alone together.

And that’s why I’m saving the best for last. You’re going to love my Thursday Happiness post.  I can’t wait to tell you what made me happiest this trip.

*ahem ahem*

Friday, we drove to Fontana.  It was a long drive, broken up by short stops and laughter and music and pictures.  We officially left The Bubble just before 11am.  We ran a few quick errands, like gas and ice, and headed out of town.

We were on the road all of two hours before we stopped.  I can’t believe out of all the places we could have eaten…we ended up at the awful waffle.  They all had their favorite breakfast foods, while I ended up eating a chicken sandwich.

And for some reason, even though I am a seasoned traveler, I suddenly had a bladder the size of a peanut.  So, we stopped…a lot.  Luckily, I managed to make sure that it looked like it was the kids who needed to stop.  When they move out, I’m dead, and my secret will be revealed.

We had one near death experience.  Every road trip should have one.  This was the result of a really strangely placed rest stop.  The only way to enter it was to cross two lanes of speeding traffic.  The only way to exit was to join the speeding traffic and do a u-turn.  It was scary.  There may have been some screaming.

Rachel: Oh my God!  I think I need to go to the bathroom again.

me: I’m gonna need to change.

Keenan: I saw my life flash before my eyes.  We’re gonna die!

HIM: Shut up!  No talking.  Do you want to make me lose my nerve?

And I thought about it.  Um.  Maybe a little.  But we were quiet just the same.  It lasted five whole minutes.  Then he graciously raised the talking ban.

We drove the way I love…stopping to smell the proverbial flowers, which really means allowing me to take pictures at scenic outlooks along the way.  And they were really scenic.  Everyone should visit the Smoky Mountains if they they have a chance.

Finally, we arrived.  And we did some exploring.  The place was as pretty as I remember.  (I have a great memory.)  We checked in to the cabin before Jennie and her family arrived.  I loved the place, but you let me know what you think.

Please note, I didn’t take close ups of the outside because HE picked the place apart.  The new Hardie siding was not installed properly.  The windows weren’t installed properly.  There was no caulk used.  The vinyl bathroom floor was coming up.  The list of his complaints was endless.  At the same time, we have no desire to live there for any length of time so he couldn’t do anything about it even if he wanted to.

Friday night was great.  We made dinner at the cabin.  It wasn’t the same.  I never cook as well with strange cookware and strange ovens…as evidenced by the cut on my finger.  I watched the knife slice my thumb open.  HE watched, too.

HIM: Okay.  What if I finish with the slicing?

me: Thanks, babe.

HIM: I just don’t want you bleeding all over dinner.

And though our plan to go to the resort campfire and listen to live music was called on account of rain, we made alternative plans.  We played games with the kids.  We sent the kids to their respective rooms and utility closets (the boys slept in what would have been the laundry room on a pile of blankets and pillows…it was good enough for Harry Potter…) before the adults played cards.

At midnight, we called it.  After all, it had been a long day.  There had been a long drive.  And there was a lot of time left to do everything we wanted to.  And we did.

Come back tomorrow to read about how I managed to get some color…

I have spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to organize this.  I mean, there is so much to talk about.  The Four Seasons in Palo Alto is a post entirely of itself.  The entire Yahoo! experience merits more than a few words.  Then there are all the many people that I met.  And let’s not forget the food.  Om nom nom.

Do I tell it to you in chronological order and just be done with it?  *sigh*  That seems so ordinary, so unlike me.  Yet, if I want to get it all in…that seems to be the way to go…

Here it is.

My First Trip to California , Courtesy of Yahoo!

We all know I was a little freaked out at the prospect of flying to California .  It’s not the flying part that bothers me as much as the possibility of flaming death from a bad landing.  Glad that part is over with.

And before I left, Rachel cursed me.

Rachel: Remember to put the oxygen mask on your face before you place it on the face of the screaming kid next to you.

Sure enough.  I was seated next to a nine month old nightmare.  They should never have scheduled a non-stop flight.  Kids need breaks to run around.  A one or two stop flight would have been much better…especially for me.

And we all know I was excited at the prospect of some serious rock star treatment upon arrival.  Sure enough, there was a man dressed completely in chauffeur garb, holding a sign with my name.  I wish I had thought to yank the camera out of my bag.  It was too cool.

Rich was very nice, very friendly, super chatty as he guided me to my waiting vehicle.  Yes, I was driven to the Four Seasons in the back seat of a black Lexus SUV.  It was awesome!  Seriously.  I had a little difficulty adjusting to the courtesy, the opening of doors, that kind of thing, but man, can I adapt.  Mwah ha ha.

Soon enough, I arrived at the Four Seasons in Palo Alto .  It was just about 12:30pm PST.  And I was struggling with the three hour time change.  My room wasn’t ready yet, but I managed to meet the first two Mother Board members while attempting to check in.  Naturally, I started the conversation when I noticed one of them holding the From Left to Write Book Club selection.  We chatted and went our separate ways…since their rooms were ready.

I grabbed lunch at a place around the corner.  I have learned NOT to eat in hotels, since it can be prohibitively expensive and I tend to be positively on a tight budget.  Not knowing any better, I carried the pizza back to the hotel pool with me.  And this brings me to something I really like about fancy hotels.  They may have rules, but they tend to bend them a tad just to keep their clientele happy.  So, while I wasn’t supposed to have outside food, they didn’t do anything about it.  Yay!  And my belly was happy.

I hung out at the pool until 3pm, which is when they closed it to prepare for our private party starting at 5:30pm.  And that’s when I saw my room for the first time.  By the time I reached the desk, I discovered that my luggage was already in my new room.  Too cool.  And the room was worth the wait.

I had more amenities than I knew what to do with.  It was a case of sensory overload, since I hadn’t stayed in a room alone for 20 years and a hotel room alone EVER.  My personal favorite touch…the television in the bathroom that meant I could ‘watch’ while I readied myself.  Too cool.

Well, I dressed for the pool party reception in a purple sarong.  That’s my style.  And I worried that I would be too casual.  I shouldn’t have.  These women are so diverse, so extraordinary, that anything I chose would have been just fine.  I’m glad I went a few minutes early to take pictures.  The décor was incredible.  The food was divine.  The company was exceptional.  The open bar and desserts were a special treat.  And I met a woman that could easily become a true friend for life.  Yes, Lisa, I mean you!

We laughed, we joked, we carried on for two hours.  And when the cocktail party was wrapping up, we received the first of many gifts from Yahoo!, as if the flight, reception, and fabulous digs weren’t enough.  They gave each of us a pair of Shine slippers and a Four Seasons Palo Alto Spa toiletry bag, with toiletries!  I was already getting waaaaay too spoiled.

It was time to change for a night out in San Francisco with David of Dad’s House.  So, I rushed to my room on the 9^th floor.  (It was practically the penthouse, since there were only ten floors…)  That was when I had my first Sleeping with the Enemy moment.  Remember how Julia Roberts would walk into a room and it would be magically straightened?  Uh huh.

It was like that.  Only they called it turn down service.  The blinds were closed, the music playing lightly in the background, the bed readied for me, my jeans were folded on the bed instead of laid out like I left them, the toilet paper was re-triangled, and the toiletries were organized neatly at the sink.  Creepy.  In a nice way.

As for David, he’s just as funny, intelligent, and witty as he seems on his blog.  Oh, and very punctual.  We drove to San Francisco and I did my best to dig deep and be myself.  (I was ridiculously tired since it was 11pm my time and I’d been up since 5:30am.)  Dinner was sushi at Unami.  Sooo good.  The bathroom freaked me out.  I was hearing voices, thought people were in there.  Nope.  They were piping in Japanese language tapes in male and female voices.

Then we drove all over.  Ask me what I saw, and in a word I’ll tell you: everything!  And I was really alert for most of it.  There was the Golden Gate Bridge, Candlestick Park, The Haight, Pacific Heights, Lombard Street, Palace of Arts, just about anything I could have hoped to and more.  The funniest part was my tour guide.

David: See that building there?

me: Yeah.

David: That’s something.  Oh, and that building where it juts out?

me: Yeah?

David: That’s something, too.  Oh and the building next to that…

There are a lot of somethings in San Francisco .  Good news.  There was also great conversation.  There was a feeling a familiarity far from home.  There was laughter.  (And I couldn’t stop giggling as he struggled with driving the roller coaster roads.)

He dropped me off at midnight.  I was horrible company on the ride back.  I could barely stay awake.  Still, I wouldn’t have passed on a chance to meet David for anything.  Many thanks, friend!

Come back tomorrow to hear about Friday at Yahoo!. Share and Enjoy:

I’ve been to Atlanta three times.  If my plans for this weekend hadn’t fallen through, it would have been four.  (And S’s first.  It’s only four hours away and he’s never been.  Can you believe it?)

My first trip was a business trip where I left the hotel only for meals, and even those were chosen for their conveniently close access from the hotel.  We’d finish for the day, lay around the pool until dark, then shower and change for dinner.  And it wasn’t my time in Atlanta that I remember from that trip.  No, what I remember is that after being gone for days this was how Rachel, then eight, greeted me.

Rachel: We didn’t shower the whole time you were gone!

me: (turning on J)  I’ve been gone for five days!

J: I took them to the pool.

me: Since when does chlorine replace soap?

Our second trip to Atlanta…I actually saw parts of Atlanta.  We (me, the ex, and the kids) went with our friends Danny, Makenzie and son, Ryan.  We stayed at the Hyatt.  It was contemporary and gorgeous and under construction.  So, Makenzie, who is as sleep sensitive as the Princess in the Princess and Pea, bullied them into moving our room.  Problem solved, another tragedy averted, let the fun begin.

We rode the MARTA.  We visited underground Atlanta.  We visited the Georgia Aquarium, and then went to Ru Sans and ate sushi.  Mwah ha ha.  We taste tested like fiends in the World of Coke.  (Whatever you do…don’t drink the Beverly!)  We ate lunch at The Sundial restaurant that spins 360 degrees and hour atop the Westin.  In short, though Danny and Makenzie tried to warn us against Atlanta, we had a blast.

The last trip was much different.  It was Rachel’s birthday trip.  She has the misfortune of having her birthday fall over Memorial Day Weekend.  And though we’ve tried everything imaginable, we can never seem to gather more than one or two of her friends for a party.  We decided that from now on, we’d simply take her on a weekend excursion with one friend to celebrate her special day.

So, she picked Atlanta and Ashley, right after J and I separated.  And she wanted us both there.  It was…awkward at best and downright miserable to say the least.  We hit the old haunts: the aquarium, the World of Coke, Ru Sans and Underground Atlanta.  It wasn’t the same.

This weekend, I had high hopes that I could take S there and show him the Atlanta I love.  We were going to get a special promotional offer and go to the aquarium on Saturday, then watch the Falcons trounce our Panthers in Atlanta on Sunday before driving home.  I would’ve sung him the baby beluga song.  We would’ve stared at the whale sharks forever.  I could’ve convinced him that Ru Sans has good chicken wings so that I could eat my traditional post -aquarium visit meal of sushi.  It was a great plan.  It was a solid plan.  It was in the works for months.

And that’s probably why it fell through.  First, J decided that even though it was his birthday weekend, he’d be leaving town without the kids.  Okay, so the cost doubled with ticket prices and more mouths to feed.  Then there was the issue with my bank and Wells Fargo that threatened to never be resolved.  Then we found Bishop.  And that stuck a fork in it.  No way would we want to leave our new baby this soon.

Someday we’ll make it to Atlanta.  Someday.  And we’ll have tons of fun.  He drinks Coke.  And he loves aquariums.  And he likes nice hotels.  And he’s never been on the MARTA.  Someday, he’ll see and do all that and more.

While we spent a considerable amount of time looking around, trying to decide where to go, we ended up going with Myrtle Beach.  There were lots of pros.  It was cost effective, since we could drive and not fly.  It was close.  It involved our favorite things.  We’re beach people.

The trick was that he was determined we stay somewhere really nice but affordable.  Problem solved: we decided to stay at Sandy Beach Resort.  It’s made up of one, two, and three condos.  The location was perfect, virtually across the street from the Family Amusement Park, and a short drive from the boardwalk and everything else we hoped to do.

Sandy Beach Resort is right on the water, with rooms having either an ocean view or being ocean front.  We went with a one bedroom ocean front room.  It was perfect.  And when I say perfect…I mean PERFECT.

This is where we were supposed to sleep.  It was a gorgeous room with clean contemporary furnishings.  The decor gave it a very high end feel.  The beds were ridiculously comfortable.  I could have stayed forever.  (Actually, we stayed an extra day.  And I have discovered that every time we go away, S tries to stay an extra day.)

The bathroom was great, spacious, nice decor.  There was plenty of light for me to put on my face before we’d go out in the evening.  And plenty of counter so that we could share the space comfortably.  (We don’t even always do that at home.  Still working on our timing.)

And the jacuzzi tub comfortably holds two.  **cough cough** Or so I’ve heard, Mom.  You know better than to think I’m the kind of girl who’d soak in a tub scented with a Lush bath ball snuggling with my boyfriend, right?

Anyway…check out this kitchen.  Granite, stainless, fully stocked with cooking utensils.  (Okay, the skillet wasn’t ideal, but it was included.)  We ate in for breakfast and lunch.  And I baked cookies a couple of times.  (Nestles break and bake are the jam!)  Evenings we would eat out.  It’s not for everyone, but it works for us.

Oh, and the room had a washer and dryer.  It was ideal.  I hate getting back into a wet bathing suit or worrying about losing a towel off the balcony.  (It has happened.)  Plus, we had all our laundry done before we came home.  Yay!

Now, don’t think that I’m just getting over excited about this hotel because it was my first trip with S.  I’ve stayed in Myrtle Beach dozens of times.  (Two to three times per year over the last seven years…)  We tried out a different place each time.  Sandy Beach Resort was simply the best.  The price was reasonable, the location ideal, the accommodations incredible.  Try it for yourself.  Just plan a bit in advance.  They don’t have a lot of openings.

**And make sure to stay in the newer tower rooms: Palmetto.  Magnolia is a very different experience, judging by the photos.

And this is Myrtle Beach, too.  This is where I walk for hours picking up my cherished sea debris, my black smooth stones, my unusual seashells, my coral, that I then decorate our house with.  This is where S and I walk while the sun sets.  This beach is how we get back to the hotel on hot summer nights after hanging out on the boardwalk and visiting The Bowery, a bar famous for its live music.  (Alabama started there.)  I love Myrtle Beach.  It’s not my favorite beach, but I have some amazing memories there.

And that would be why I was so disturbed the other evening when we were flipping through the channels.  S was clicking through when I head the narrator say something about Conway, South Carolina, which is the just outside of Myrtle Beach the way we drive there.  We paused.

narrator: Myrtle Beach, South Carolina is filled with rednecks and badly tanned northerners in the summer months.

I looked at S.

S: I guess I’m the redneck.

me: Well, I’m from the north, but I tan very nicely, thank you.

And the longer I watched this show about a teenage boy who killed a female friend in Conway, the more upset I became.  They had no love for Myrtle Beach.  Always champion of the underdog, if I think the underdog has a case, I felt the need to share all the good stuff about Myrtle Beach.

Let’s start with the obvious.  They have a Margaritaville!  would Jimmy Buffet just stick a Margaritaville anywhere?  (And yes, I’ve been.  Had a REALLY strong margarita at lunch, since it was five o’clock somewhere, and needed a nap to recover.  Ahhh.)  Sorry, Giyen, it was before I knew you, so I mostly just thought ‘what a yummy margarita.’

It’s one of the many restaurants at Broadway at the Beach, which happens to be one of my favorite spots.  There’s something for everyone there: food, movies, shopping, huge coy to feed, mini golf, Magiquest, Ripley’s Aquarium…something for everyone EVERYONE.

And we love the boardwalk at night.  We’re skeeball players.  And ice cream eaters.  And homemade fry munchers.  Then, when we’re done with that, we’re music appreciators at The Bowery.  (Oh, do I have some Bowery stories for you!)

Myrtle Beach is commercialized, I’ll give them that.  And there are rednecks and badly tanned northerners.  Unfortunately, those two stereotypes are not unique to Myrtle Beach.  I’ve found them EVERYWHERE.  There are wild and crazy teens on spring break.  There are bikers during bike weeks.  And there are families from all over enjoying quality time with each other.

What’s so bad about that?

Great in theory.  In reality, Keenan has issues with…rides.  We had made an agreement that he would try everything once and then we would let him stay in his comfort zone.  It was a good plan.  Solid.  No loop holes.  We hadn’t quite anticipated the depth of Keenan’s fear.  He did make it down that slide.  And I can’t wait for the pictures to be developed, since he was screaming and praying loudly the entire ride.

After surviving that, we promised him something tamer, but still would allow us some quality family time.  This was, after all, our first family vacation together.  It was kind of a big deal.

That’s where River Canyon Run came in.  Again, this was a four person ride.  We had to take the same stairs that we did for the other, so you can understand Keenan’s concern that we were pulling the old switcheroo on him.  He began breathing more easily when we took the left fork, but again…issues on the ride.

We climbed in, Rachel and I demonstrating that we lack any grace whatsoever, since we all but flopped in like beached whales.  And down we went.  Somehow, by the time we reached the bottom, Keenan had managed to wedge himself below the edge of the raft so that he wasn’t even visible.  Yet, he claimed he liked that one.

And since he had survived both of those rides, and he was determined to show S what a tough guy he was, he insisted that they ride the Howlin’ Tornado alone, together, while Rachel and I tried out some other rides.  Needless to say, after we finished our ride and stared expectantly for their arrival in the pool forever…they appeared behind us.

S was awesome, covering for the boy.

S: We’d already ridden it once.  We were bored.  So we thought we’d just…walk down instead.

Later, when the boy was in the bathroom, he told us what we already knew: the boy had a panic attack at the top.  So, we went in the wave pool.  People were packing that in single tubes, double tubes, and without any flotation devices whatsoever.

Good times…until I lost sight of Rachel.  I found her, beached…and towed her back to the deep end.  She was funny.  And she had been my ride buddy.  It was nice getting some girl time with her.  Very cool.

The bucket area was a family favorite.  There were numerous levels of water play culminating in slides at the top.  S soaked an older man playing with his grandson below.  I added the soundtrack, channeling a Scooby Do reel when the man stood and began shaking his fist at us.

The biggest challenge: crossing the floating lily pads and wood discs with the use of a cargo net suspended above them.  It was a challenge.  And funny.  It required a lot of upper body strength and balance…two things I lack.  I made it across, twice, but it wasn’t pretty either time.  Not even a little bit.

One ride that Keenan did repeat was the tube slides.  He went down in a double with me, then alone on his own.  Some of us tried racing, since there were two slides that went at the same time, but I was not fast in a tube.  (And I was even less graceful flopping out of it at the end.)

S, Rachel, and I were really into the racing slides using the mats.  We kept trying new ways to outrace each other.  I had gravity on my side.  S had agility.  Rachel…was tall.  The best time, on the last race, came after S launched himself down the slide.  I tried the same technique, but merely managed to flood my mat.

The best part, when we were finally water logged, we changed and played in the arcade.  S and Keenan had sorted out $75 worth of quarters from our vacation fund and they were determined to use them…all of them.

Finally, I was in my element.  I still reign supreme as the air hockey champ, defeating both Rachel and S.  Keenan watched and decided he wasn’t ready to take me on.  I also managed to set the new high score in Whack-A-Shark.  It was unexpected and exciting.  Yay!

S and Rachel played this underwater adventure game where they shot harpoons and defeated seven sea creatures like Leviathin, Medusa, and Poseidon.  It went on FOREVER.  And finally they finished.

We managed to collect a ridiculous number of tickets that we had to cash in before leaving.  And this is where S worked his magic.  He picked out a Kenny doll, from South Park.  We were short 52 tickets.  Fifty-two.  Not five.  Not two.  52.  And he looked at the girl…

S: Do we get credit for trying?

girl behind the counter: Sure.

And we walked out with a Kenny doll while Rachel and I shook our heads.  We went home after that.  We had conquered every aspect of the park.  We had fought our way through lines to get ice cream.  We had tried out the swim suit dryer in the changing room.  Good times.

And we’re already planning to go back this winter.  You can bet I’ll tell you all about it.

Let me begin by saying that for a girl who was raised in the  Adirondacks, it brought a bit of the lodge feel home.  The building is gorgeous and well-designed with fun and food located on every floor.  Fellow foodies can truly appreciate how handy that was.

On the phone when making the reservation, we had asked for a balcony and not a patio.  So, when we discovered that we were on the ground floor, patio level, I was a bit apprehensive.  Little did we know, we had the best room location there.  We were on the front of the building, but since it sat below the road, we had a built in privacy wall a good twenty feet from our door.  There was even room for S and Keenan to throw a football around.  Yay!  And at night, after we had sent the kids to bed, S and I sat outside and talked for another hour, interrupted only twice.  Once Rachel was giving us spare pillows, the other time, Keenan was giving us a spare tooth.  (Too bad the tooth fairy doesn’t visit on vacations.)

Our room was perfect.  We didn’t go with anything high end.  It wasn’t a whirl pool suite, or any of the other fancier digs.  We had your basic family suite and it was HUGE.  We walked in and the bathroom was to the right, the closet to the left.  The sink area was granite and part of the bedroom.  There was a microwave and large dorm fridge that we packed with Coke and Red Bull.  (We’re not coffee drinkers, but there was a complimentary coffee machine, etc. also.)  There were two queen sized beds and on the other side of a 3/4 wall, a pull out couch.  Yay!  It was almost as good as having our own room.  And since the sliding glass door to the patio was closest to our ‘bed’ we didn’t even have to disturb the kids.

As I alluded to previously, much thought was given to the set up.  Well, at check in, everyone received a bracelet to be worn at all times, since the water park was only for guests of the lodge.  And the best part?  The adult bracelets were MAGIC.  Ours had a special microchip in them.  Swoosh them in front of the door and they were a key.  Swipe them at a food place and they were a credit card.  Swipe them at the arcade and tokens magically appear.  Ahhh.

In addition to the indoor water park, which needs a post all to itself, there’s also mini golf, the arcade, a ‘teen’ hang out that had Play Station, etc. and internet; and MagiQuest.  (We didn’t do MagiQuest this trip.  The kids and I have wands from the one in Myrtle Beach, but I lost them in the divorce.)  And if you haven’t experienced MagiQuest, it is worth it for quality family time.

http://magiquest.com

We’re already talking about going back over the winter, since the place claims to maintain a nice 84 degree temp year round.  And, water people that we are, we will definitely want to indulge in that long before we can go back outside.

Hope to see you there!

http://greatwolf.com

**This was more of a review.  For the real dirt on the water park and how S charmed us into a Kenny doll at the arcade, check back tomorrow.**

Okay, when last we left the saga of our return trip home…S and I had missed our flight with American Airlines as it apparently managed to depart from the gate at least fifteen minutes early from Miami International Airport, which I saw today was ranked third worst in the US.  (I always like to support my opinions with fact.)  And, we had found the customer service desk empty.  Grrr.

Well, S started wandering around, hoping to find someone to help us.  I stood my ground in line.  I was first, but shortly after I found another couple joined me in line.  The woman at the desk was as rude as the last person.  She, too, wanted to give me a hard time for not getting to the gate sooner.  Yeah, because I was clearly putzing around during this ordeal.  Then she said that she could put us on standby for the next flight.

S: So that means that someone has to miss their flight?

me: Yup.

S: What are the chances that will happen?

I glanced at the couple behind us who had missed the same flight we did.

me: I’d say pretty good.  And look, now we get to travel with our luggage.

S: What happens if we don’t make that flight?

Hostile Condescending American Airlines Employee: Then the next flight isn’t until tomorrow morning.

We wandered off with the other couple to vent our frustrations.  They went one way, S and I another.  We decided we had a couple of options.  We could try and complain, see if we could figure some definite way to get home, or we could go to the nearest bar for happy hour and hors d’oeuvres.

And you think you know me so well!  Ha!  We went outside and made some phone calls.  Finally I spoke to one employee at the toll-free number who worked for American Airlines and was HELPFUL!  I’m not sure if he was new or his pleasant demeanor was an oversight during his hiring process, but he directed us to contact US Air.  He said they had seats open on the next flight that was leaving in two hours and if we hurried, we could get on it.

Hmmm.  Two hours, guaranteed flight.  Four hours, maybe flight.  We have a winner!  So, S and I raced to the other end of the airport and managed to get seats on the next flight.  Yay!  This only happened because we booked the flights through Expedia, by the way.  It gave us the ability to change airlines at no cost.  And the man who arranged our tickets suggested we head back to American Airlines to get our luggage back and therby avoid a lengthy wait in Charlotte for our luggage to arrive.

Well, we weren’t eager to go back there, but we did.  And the jerk agent we spoke to there told us we wouldn’t be able to get our luggage back.  He made a huge theatrical deal of it.  It practically included a song and dance.  So, rather than fight and miss our flight, we headed back to the warm comforting, welcoming atmosphere we found at US Air.  Ahhh.

We made our flight.  We sat together.  S had a window seat again.  It was night by now and he was able to enjoy the lights of Miami.  We were across the aisle from a US Air pilot and every time we hit turbulence, S would glance over at him to make sure all was well.  (I had assured him that if there was a problem, he would be our best barometer of it.)

We arrived in Charlotte, freezing our butts off, since it was less than fifty degrees and our coats were in the luggage we couldn’t claim for hours.  We had the garage monkey pick us up with his unsavory girlfriend.  And while we waited, after tense phone calls with J and others, we pondered whether we could catch a flight out before our ride arrived.  Alas, we stuck it out.

An interesting side note: we returned hours later, close to midnight to get our luggage…and the flight was late.  Hmmm.

And…this is the real reason I will never fly American Airlines…I wrote them a lengthy letter of my grievances.  (The rude employees, the mishandling of the luggage, the broken items in S’s bag, etc.)  I expected an apology, an offer of a discount, something…I got nothing.  They didn’t try to make ammends in any way shape or form.  I didn’t even get an apology.  That’s no way to start a relationship.  I had never flown with them before.  Now, I never will.

So, we made the most of the day.  We had another amazing hot buffet breakfast at Don Shula’s Resort.  And then we went to Wal-mart so that I could print out some pictures from the trip.  And then we hit the beach one last time.  Our flight wasn’t leaving until four, so we figured we’d be fine as long as we made it to the airport by 2pm.

We walked the beach, our last true moments of happiness that day.  S pointed out the naked hot chicks sunbathing.  And I gathered shells, coral, and stones.  We kept getting splashed, which bothered me not at all, and him a little, since he worried over his phone in his pocket.

We made a pit stop at KFC so I could get some food.  I’d been craving their cole slaw since the beginning of the trip and finally was able to quell that desire.  Then we stopped to fill the rental car with gas, since they’d charge us some outrageous fee if we didn’t.  And, as usual, we attracted some crazy guy who spent the entire time S was pumping gas talking to him.  Since we didn’t want to end our vacation with a stabbing or shooting, he played along.

For future reference, if you ever have to return a car at the airport in Miami, leave yourself A TON of time.  Aside from the convoluted route to find the car drop off, there’s also the distinct possibility that you’ll be stuck in some huge hulking line, and an even greater possibility that you’ll have to wait even longer on a bus to take you to the actual terminals.

S saw a whole lot of different sides of me this trip.  I was digging in with the best of them to get our place on the bus.  Did everyone really think they could cut in front of me just because they had a plane to catch?  Right, like I was just taking a tour.  I had a plane to catch, too, people!  We had to stand on the bus, but I really didn’t care.  It was already ten after two.

Initially, I didn’t think that ten minutes could make much of a difference.  Hah!  We are dropped off at our terminal, since we were supposed to fly American Airlines.  PAY ATTENTION…this is why I will never fly American Airlines.  EVER.  EVER EVER.

First, let me begin by explaining that there are no fewer than three areas to check in for American Airlines.  They have employees stationed outside of each area to try and route people appropriately.  Try.  We finally are told that we must go to the last one.  We arrive at what looks like a giant corral.  People are herded in like cattle and behave like animals.  There is pushing and fighting to get one of the automated ticket machines, and then there is more pushing and fighting to get in line to check the baggage.  And I’m already more than a little annoyed and worried.

We finally make it to the desk and the guy berates us for arriving too late.  By now it is maybe 2:45.  And I apologize and express that had I known I’d needed more time and a black belt in karate to make it through the crowds, I would have been here earlier.  He then tells me that our luggage will not make our flight, but it will be on the next flight which was arriving in Charlotte at 11:40pm that night.  I’m mildly annoyed, but at least we’re going to make our flight, right?

So, we race (and I’m no runner) to the gate to make it through that hassle.  I have my carry on bag (a caribbean beach bag that I bought on the cruise) that has all of our really important stuff in it and some breakables, as well as our beach towels, etc.  The lines are SO LONG that I quickly realize there is a distinct possibility that we might miss our flight.  I explain my concern to one of employees who tells us to go to a different line that should be faster.  Right.

At 3:30pm we are still trying to make the line.  At 3:35 they run my bag though the sensor and stick it on top of the machine.  Now, no one is speaking to me.  No one will tell me what’s going on.  And I’m trying not to look totally pissed because the last time I did, over Thanksgiving, that just got me a pat down (and I usually at least get dinner or drinks first).  Finally, the woman looks at me.

Evil Power Drunk American Airlines Employee: Staring at me isn’t going to make this go any faster.  You have liquid in your bag.

I looked at S: Do you think glaring will help?

And then I begin racking my brain for the mystery liquid that escaped my attention in my bag.  Within seconds, I realize that it’s the suntan lotion that I failed to put in the suitcase.  Shitake mushrooms!  And I offered to take the lotion out, let her keep it, and simply run my bag again.  But no, that wasn’t an option.  My bag had to be hand searched.

I’m losing my mind at this point.  Finally a woman comes with the blue gloves and pulls my bag to the side.  We have glasses from the cruise (real glass, purchased in the gift shop, not the souvenir plastics) and a shot glass from Margaritaville, and bra and panties (I was still wearing the bathing suit under my clothes), and I really didn’t want the entire bag unloaded for public consumption and under these time constraints.  So, I tried to tell her where the offending lotion was.

me: It’s right there on the left side.  No.  That’s not it.  Down there on the left…

And it’s obvious the woman is ignoring me.  She unloads EVERYTHING.  Yes, everything.  Right down to my matching bra and panties.  Don’t worry, Mom.  They were clean.  At least they were until they were deposited on that counter…

She pulls out the lotion, which, remarkably was right where I said it would be.  Then told us we could leave and walked away.  I shoved everything back in the bag as quickly and carefully as possible and we ran to the gate, only to be told we missed our flight.

Now, the flight isn’t supposed to depart until 4pm and it is only 3:45 at this point.  How is that possible?  The man is unrepentant and directs us to the service desk…which we discover is currently unmanned.  S is a little nervous.  This is only his second flight and he’s missed it.  I’ve traveled all over by plane, including internationally and I’ve never missed a flight.  Okay…make that, I’ve never been at the airport and missed a flight.  There was one time…at summer camp…

***Come back tomorrow so I can tell you how we clicked our heels together and finally made it home.