Early last Thursday morning, we packed up my car and left for our much-awaited trip. The sun was shining, and for the first time in about 4 years, my friend and I had the perfect opportunity to chat and catch up on each other's lives--without the interference of begging or screaming children.
About 2.5 hours into our drive, my cell phone rang...CDC popped up on my screen. I'm not referring to the "Centers for Disease Control," but rather, "Child Development Center." My heart sank, and I got the same pit in my stomach as if it were the Center for Disease Control.
"Hello, is this 'Lucky's' mom?"
"Yes it is..."
"He has a 102 fever and is walking around like a zombie. Please come and pick him up."
"I will have someone there to pick him up. You see, well, I am on my way out of town...maybe I should turn around? Oh no...thank you for calling."
I was a mess. While travelling on a country road and in and out of phone service, I called my husband and mom and "Lucky's" pediatrician. My mother was at a luncheon, but really came through for us. She picked up my little buddy and took him to his pediatrician's appointment. The verdict: a sore throat virus and double ear infections. My mom said he just wanted to be held.
We never could have predicted what would happen over the next 72 hours. As we drove closer to the resort parking lot, there were teenagers everywhere. Greasy, dirty, tattooed and rowdy teenagers lined the streets, walked boldly (and stupidly) in front of cars, and yelled out at passersby. The thought that this might be a spring break weekend briefly entered my mind several weeks ago, but I never thought it would last into the first week of April. Our city's own spring break was early in March. Boy was I wrong. As it turned out, this was Georgia's spring break. Several colleges also had their break that week.
We walked into the lobby of the hotel to see several security guards checking wristbands and herding drunk teenagers into and out of elevators. We were funneled to the check-in area. The manager of the hotel was not too friendly...
"We are here to check in, the name is Smith," my friend said.
"Yes, I have you down as staying 3 nights. Now, you know this is spring break, right?"
"Well, yes - obviously."
"It is going to get very rowdy and very loud. This is not going to be a relaxing situation for you and your friend. Are you sure you want to stay?"
I said, "We just drove 5 hours to get here. We are not going home!"
"Well, I am just warning you. It is going to get very bad."
At this point, we felt like we were being encouraged to go home. My friend had a look of fear in her eyes and scanned the lobby. There were teenagers everywhere. Some teen girls, scantily dressed, made eye contact with her and said, "Ma'am. I don't think you understand. This is spring break! It's a party! It's going to be loud all night long."
I don't know if we were trying to prove our toughness or what, but we "agreed to stay." Our reasoning, 1) we could find ways to avoid the stinky teens; 2) we did not want to drive home 5 hours; 3) her husband had donated his hotel points to us, and we didn't want to waste them; and 4) we were by golly going to have a fun girl's weekend!
We unloaded my car and with the help of a security guard, we were shuttled onto an elevator and somehow made it to the 11th floor. By the way, all weekend long, every time an elevator came to the lobby and the doors opened, a herd of about 20 teens would scream, hoot and holler and stumble out of the compartment. EVERY TIME!
The room was nice enough. My friend went to the window as soon as we walked into what would be our room for the next 3 nights and said, "Oh....my....heavens!"
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| View from our 11th floor balcony |
...to be continued
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