Day Two - Hotel Wars

Day Two Hotel Wars

This time the drive was much shorter, as crossing from Virginia in the Chesapeake Tunnel moved to simply looking at corn fiields.

Me, “Let’s pull off into those little towns.”

Teenage Son, “Really Mom, what is there to do in a little town.  Especially when we don’t have a good internet connection.”
Youngest son, “Did your bed bugs go away?”

Teenager starts itching.

Given the chore of booking a hotel room, I was told by the hubby, “Find us something cheap.  With a breakfast.”

So that is exactly what I did.  I found us the Knights Inn of Virginia Beach, a lovely two room suite with kitchenette and piping hot breakfast.

The boys complained the room smelled.

The boys complained that several people in the parking lot looked like pimps.

I wondered how the boys knew what pimps were.

"Will someone rob us here?"  The youngest asked.

On checking out, no one wanted the piping hot breakfast as that meant eating your food in front of the hotel manager while standing in the lobby.  We opted for just a cup of coffee.

The next day as I drove, Dad was given the job of finding the hotel room in Baltimore.

“Guess what boys!  We have a two room GRAND SPA suite at the Inn a Black Olive!”

He went through the list:

All organic hotel.  Two rooms, two beds with turkish towels and sheets. 

Jacuzzi tup

TV that actually was the twentieth century.

A complimentary bottle of gluten free/organic mountain spring water.

Rooftop deck with restaurant

I stop the car and look at my husband.  “What did you spend on that?”

He looks back at the kids and winks, “I got a deal it was only 154/night!  Thank goodness for the Baltimore Riots!”

Both boys turn to me.  “And you got us the bed bug infested Knights Inn?”

I look at everyone.  “OK, one, I was given a budget of only twenty dollars.  And two, it was Virginia Beach.”

Both kids look at me, “We need Dad to pick out the hotel rooms from now on.”

We enjoy our spa suite, walk around Fells Point, with a dinner at Charleston’s, our favorite restaurant.  Tony Foremand and Cindy Wolf started at Savanah’s back when we lived in Fells Point.  We’ve followed them from different restaurants and different experiences.  Tonight I became one of those persons on the Food Network Shows.

For my first course I had a 23 year old Pappy VanWinkles bourbon.  Woodsy but delicious.

We both had Lobster Soup - brought out as lobster in the middle of a bowl with a curry reduction around it.  The intesne broth was then poured around it creating this amazing soup.

Followed by a Mushroom Tart - mushrooms with feta cheese and sauce in a puff pastry tart covered with edive.  The nice sherry we had added a different dimension to the meal as we tasted it with the food pairing.

Frozen Custard for dessert rounded the meal perfectly, the cool cream and a nice sherry complimenting each other.

We finished the evening taking our youngest on a walk through Fells Point, funny that as we walked up to the Cat’s Eye Pub, we left a friend sitting on those marble steps over 20 years ago, and as we walked up there he was sitting in the same place so many years later.  I wish we could say that neither of us had changed.

I am going to tell the children that I chose the room for this cruise, I really need to pick things up a notch.

WTF - Travel John? Day One Road Trip

Road Trip

There is nothing like having the time for a road trip, especially a by-way road trip.  This year we are traveling to Baltimore from Beaufort, NC and decided rather than suffering through the traffic of I-95, traveling down the shores of North Carolina, Virginia, Delaware and Maryland.  Hence, the by-way, the slow way, the family bonding way.

Our trip started with the ferry from Cedar Point to Ocracoke Island of North Carolina.  Did you know that Ocracoke got its name from Blackbeard?  Story goes that Blackbeard wanted to use Ocracoke as a hiding point for his booty (my boys laughed at that statement) and when he arrived ashore seeing only sand everywhere he yelled to the sky, “Oh Crow Cock”  Boys again enjoyed hearing their mother say “cock.”

The ferry was running late due to the Coast Guard not arriving on time to inspect the boat.

“Why do we have to sit here?”

“It’s getting hot.”

“Does anyone know what is going on?” 

The teenager complains.

Me?  I decide to take the younger, more open to traveling child and let him skimboard the beach while we wait.  There’s even a shower for rinsing off before boarding the ferry once it is ready to go. 

The ride from Cedar Point to Ocracoke is 2 hours.

“Why is it so long?”

“What am I going to do with no cell phone reception?”

“It’s hot in here.”

“Are there any snacks?”

The teenager complains.

Ocracoke is a small island completely taken over by tourists for the summer.  Most either riding golf carts or bicycles and not paying attention to anyone walking along the road.

“Hey, let’s rent a golf cart?”  I say.

“That’s be COOL!”  The youngest says.

“That’s stupid.” The teenager replies.

We decide to walk, or kids not paying attention to the golf carts and bicycles trying to run them down by the side of the road.

“Look at all these cool stores and buildings” I say.

“What are we eating for lunch?”  The teenager replies.

The youngest decides he needs zinc on his face.  The teenager looks at him with the orange all over his face then rolls his eyes.  Add in a Surf's Up bucket hat and the teenager tries pulling it off his head, throwing it out the window.  The youngest keeps the hat, staring at his brother making funny faces.

We have a nice lunch at the Jolly Roger Restaurant, then hop in the car for a drive to the Hatteras Ferry.  Which the boys enjoy calling “HatterASS.”

The ferry from Ocracoke to Hatteras is a quicker 30 minutes.  One idiot waiting for the ferry decides on feeding the seagulls.  Bad idea as the birds descend on their car, reminding me of a film by Hitchcock I watched a long time ago.

The drive through the Outer Banks was full of sights.  

 “Did you know that all the names are from Indians?  Maneo?”

“Why name it something you can’t say?”  The teenager replies.

I make the family stop at the different light houses.  “Did you know that the black and white design of the lighthouse is different with each one?”  I explain to the family as we pull into a second one.

“You’ve see one lighthouse, you’ve seen them all.”  The teenager replies, and decides to fall asleep.

The highlight of the drive for the youngest was not all the great sights, but the opportunity to use the Travel John portable urinal in the car.  We stopped so I could go to the bathroom and I swear he specifically waited until we pulled out announcing he had to go to the bathroom.

The hubby, exasperated said, “You’ll just have to use the “Travel John Portable Urinal” thinking it would horrify the youngest.

Instead he got excited!  “Really?  Can I?”

So we hand it back, he opens it reading the directions to us, “Open, press against the body or mouth for throw up. The Absorbabeads collect liquid in the collection pouch.”

He opens the bag, using it as the teenager opens his eyes.  The look on his face was priceless, “Ugggghhhh!”

Once done the youngest is amazed, “Look the absorbaBeads made it disappear!”

“Now what are you going to do with that?”  The teenager askes.

“Put it by you.”  The youngest replies.

There is a small fight in back seat of the car.

Nothing like solving the curiosity of a boy with a portable urinal.  Everyone puts me in charge of finding out “cheap, but nice hotel with a piping hot breakfast.”   My first website was the Midway Marina and Lodge, with a nice $80/night price tag and a restaurant called Crabbies next to it.  Located in Coinjock, everyone agrees it sounds nice, so we drive down a side road in search.  After passing through two trailer parks, we pull up on a dump everyone looking horrified when the guy walked out in a sweaty wife beater shirt and no shoes.  

“Dad, it’s a drug dealer, punch it!” the teenager says.

Finally in Virginia Beach, a 3.5 star hotel with a 2 star price!  Well, you get what you pay for, as Max sprays my essential oil around the room and the teenager says, “I thought tube televisions went by the way of the dinosaur.”

Before we go to sleep, the teenager opens his eyes, looks at his brother, "What did you do with that pee pouch?"

The youngest just laughs.

Another night in paradise.

Day two of the road trip, the teenager wakes up saying, “Why am I itching?”

“Maybe it’s bed bugs.” the youngest replies.

It’s gonna be a great day.

The Blue Shorts

Parents can sometimes be sadists.  What person in their right mind would look at 4 children and think, I need to pile these kids into an un-airconditioned car and drive somewhere for 14 hours.  Yes, that is the perfect way to spend quality family time."

We did it anyway, and our car was air conditioned because my mother didn't believe in air conditioners, that it wasted money running them in the car when you could put the windows down.  Where did we go from Baltimore, MD - to "The Happiest Place On Earth."  14 hours to Disney World, and to make it even more interesting, we'd add my grandmother to the mix.  The family car consisted of my father driving, my mother in the middle holding a baby with my grandmother next to her.  The remaining three of us were left to our own devices in the back seat.

Kids can become creative about life in the back seat of a car when the phone, DVD players, computers and gamers are not around.  We taped the Star Trek episodes and played the cassettes on our trips.  We played the "slap game," a willing participant would lay open their bare leg, for a sibling to slap it as hard as they could, the goal being a win if you didn't scream.  If you did scream, that would prompt the adults in the front of the car to either pull over and beat you or to reach back for someone's hair because your scream was timed perfectly to when the baby finally fell asleep.

Sleeping during those long road trips was a child's way of fast forwarding the time.  Close your eyes and on the short trips by the time you woke up - you where there.  On the long trips, it was time you didn't have your sister bugging you.  Back in the days when no one wore a seat belt, one child took the seat, another the floor board while the youngest laid in the back window.  Imagine our thoughts now if we passed a car with a child laying in the back window?

The only escape from sweat and smell was to roll down the windows, and this kept my mother happy.  That was when I could fly, put my hand out the window and scoop the air, letting it move my arm up and down to some internal rhythm while my mind pictures my body about the clouds and in a place that smelled much better.

We always did this drive in the winter, gauging how far we've gone by the layers of clothing ditched to the floorboard.  On one particular drive, the one that is still known as the "blue Bermuda Shorts" drive, my father wore a pair of sky blue polyester shorts, and I am not using the word "wore" lightly.  My Dad, being a simple man, if he liked it then he wore it - a lot, and sometimes that was not a good thing.

The first few days with the shorts passed uneventfully.  Spending days out in the Florida heat riding Space Mountain, going down the Jungle Cruise.  Every single picture from that trip has my Dad wearing those blue shorts.

Riding in the car back from Cypress Gardens, we all decided to stop at a local restaurant and grab a bite to eat.  My Dad was the first one out of the car with the prospect of food.  As he jumped out, everyone in the car looked to each other as we wrinkled our nose.  My younger sister quietly whispered, "What is that smell?"  The baby made a noise so we all figured it was her.

After the restaurant and again in the car, Dad announced that we had to stop and get gas.  He got up to pump the gas and everyone looked around again.  "Did someone fart?"  My brother asked.

It took two more stops and another day before we realized it was the Blue Bermuda Shorts.  Kids forget things very easily as we played games like, "Whoever smelt it, dealt it.  Whoever denied it supplied it." He stopped to pump some more gas and we all looked at the drivers seat.

It was Dad.
And THOSE blue Bermuda Shorts.

We confirmed this observation when Dad stopped and got out to check us into the hotel.  How do children deal with the prospect of telling their Father his shorts stuck?  Only in a kid kind of way.

"Do you think he knows?"
""Sure, he has to..."
"What about grandmom, why hasn't she said anything?"
"She's old, she probably can't smell anymore."
"Mom has the baby, she's used to that kind of smell."
"Oh God, here he comes, hold your nose!"

My Dad not only wore those shorts during our vacation, but he wore them the whole way home.  He got out of the car to pump gas, and one of us was woken out of our nap by the smell.  We stopped for souvenirs  at South of the Border and everyone jumped out of the car before he got up.  Even as we rode past the Mason/Dixon line we begged my mother to keep the windows "cracked" because the "fresh air was good for us."

And the shorts?

They walked themselves into the washing machine the minute he changed out of them into his slacks.  And they sat in the drawer until that next road trip.

We brought clothes pins.

How to properly lose it at the Georgia Aquarium

Georgia Aquarium - sure this is the largest aquarium in the world, but do they have to pack it to the gills with people.  The Georgia Aquarium was like Disney on steroid, the family walks to a large mall type atmosphere with so many people running around we’re instantly thinking we’ve entered the arena of the Hunger Games.

There’s crying children, wailing children, mother’s yelling at their children, father’s yelling at their children, and lost children.  The boys and I plan an attack, knowing that we have tickets to the 4D show AND have to make the Dolphin Show at 330p to end the day.

Let me stop here and explain to you my husband.  He believes is seeing Europe rather than going to Disney, he’s not a huge Chuck E Cheese fan, he enjoys his boys but not chaos.  Imagine his face when we walk into a Who Concert mass of people trying to get to the Ocean Odyssey like us and the minute we walk through the door, Max disappears into the crowd.

Back to our goal of making it through the Ocean Odyssey, this is a tunnel through a huge aquarium with whale sharks, swordfish, manta rays AND 800 lb groupers swimming over you.  Jeff hold one child’s hand while I hold the other, we are packed like toothpaste in the tube when a child looks up at Jeff and says, “I need to toot.”  My husband is so happy to be stuck in a tube, with a child passing gas AND all the other mother’s yelling at their children around him.

We make it out of the Ocean Odyssey and it’s time for the 4D movie, we must arrive 15 minutes early and wait in a line of sweaty yelling kids for this one of a kind experience.  My sweet husband looks at me, stars to say something then simply closes his mouth.  “We’re making memories honey.” I say.

“Yeah, this is one of a lifetime, because I’m never coming back here,” he mutters.

We see the movie with the spray of water in the face (4D), the air on our feet and a very nice environmental message to save the oceans.  My wonderful husband has other ideas about global warming and such but still remains quiet during our 15 minute environmental message.

We have enough time to fight the crowd and make it into Frogs before hitting the Dolphin Show, a full 30 minutes before the show.  Fighting through the frogs, we join the sea of people toward the Dolphin Tales.  We get to the front of the line and I’ve got the wrong tickets, while I open my purse to get the right ones, this guy pushes past us, “Just let us get by you,” he snarls at me almost smacking the attendant in the face with his tickets.  I wonder what the extra 3 seconds ahead of me would do when I walk into a auditorium with people pushing other people out of the way for the seats in front.  Packed like sardines, I’ve lost half my seat to a very large woman with a bag of McDonalds, and Jeff is very happy that the lady next to him has chosen that time to breast feed.  My husband who watches TV shows with me explaining how they explosions in outer space cannot be real, watches a Dolphin Show with electrical capes, and dancing monsters and a disco ball.

He doesn’t properly lose it until after we wait another 15 minutes to get out of the show, then a guy with a sub dripping down the front of his shirt runs into him, looks at him and burps then continues on his way, “I’m done,” he simply states and heads out to the nearest bar.

I should have listened to him then, but no, I had to take the boys - annoying each other by punching and tripping into the petting part of the aquarium.  There’s sharks swimming in a long tank, kids line all the sides trying to get their touch in, but the sharks stay under the water enough so that short arms just can’t reach.  My two knock each other out of the way to the one open spot, the fight for it causing the other children to move down a great ploy to get them to fit.  The oldest dips his arm in the water locating the sharks, the youngest jumping up on his belly trying to touch them.  I look away and before I know it, one is chest deep in the water the other looking at me with disbelief on his face.  I walk away, and wait for both of them to catch up to me.

“What happened.”

“I was trying to help him touch the sharks.”

“He pulled my arm until I fell in the water.”

“I did not”

“I’m wet.”

“Come on let’s get out of here.”

I can’t get mad, I’m trying not to laugh.  As I bump into my last person and say “excuse me” for the 1,587th time, I’m glad that I got the memories in, the time taken care of and didn’t kill them.  It’s been a good day when I see my husband waiting at the bar for us, cold beer in his hand for me - he offers it like it’s a medal.  In a way it is, a finisher’s medal for a day with the family and surviving.  Ever taken one for the family?