So, this post has just been written, and I haven't even edited/read through it for errors, etc. So you're getting the raw, pure stuff here folks (pretty tame if you're looking for really, raw stuff! Go crack an egg or something).
Will embellish and add photos later.
So, how ironic is it that I am sitting in the lobby of the hotel where my wedding reception was held over 13 years ago, and I'm watching a catering manager speak with a couple planning their wedding. Why am I here? Because I just dropped the kids off at Summer Bible Camp at church and was in search of a quiet place to recap the vacation extravaganza. Rather than going to Starbucks (sidenote: have not had a nonfatsugarfreeanythinglatte since before vacation, and i think I don't really need or desire one--we'll see what this week brings though), or a Panera, where I would inevitably eat a sourdough bowl filled with onion soup, adding to the pounds I have acquired over the vacation extravaganza, I have chosen to sit in this lobby.
Lobbies seem like a really cool place to write. How come writers have never suggested the hotellobby as a place to write? It's quiet, it's interesting, there are a variety of people to look at, to eavesdrop upon, and hey, if you're that type of person, well, then, you could give that lone traveler a look, a nod, and follow him right up into the elevator for some afternoon delight.
I'm not that type of person, but hey, I would like to write about 'that' type of person.
Anyway, I have finally started on the mound of laundry and plan to be completely back to normal by next monday. Vacationing is a very hard thing to do. Really. But I have to say, this trip was by far the most fun family vacationwe've ever had.
It started out with a 15 hour drive to Georgia, and we were accompanied by our great friends, who I guess I should nickname here... How about The Coach, CW (Coach's wife) and Kids 1, 2 and 3.
So, CW and I decide after the first leg of the 4 a.m. trip, that we would switch minivans and the boys could all go in one car, and the girls would follow in the other. I'd say about 45 minutes into this part of the trip, we watch as my hubby in the front seat of Coach's car, reaches into the back to get something for a kid, and Coach swerves, and next thing you know, they're moving to the side of the road with the hazards on. Now, CW and I are going, "That didn't take long." Because as all women know, there's no way a man can drive and a man can co-pilot a car-full of kids. There are just too many demands.
So, we pull over at the next exit, and hubby gets out of the car and his forehead is bleeding, and he tells me that Tukey is puking and CW and I are just trying so hard not to laugh because it is just typical for something chaotic to occur when a woman is not present.
Apparently, while hubby was reaching in the back of the car for peanuts for Coach, Coach swerved, thus hitting hubby on his forehead with his sunglasses, causing some blood and a small wound, which therefore caused Tukey to puke at the sight of blood. I think I've mentioned here before about how much Tukey hates blood. Thank God he's a boy and will never get his period.
So, that was just like 4 hours into our journey. I won't bore you with the other details, but we got to our first night's destination, and grabbed some beers and hung out poolside at the hotel. I had five beers. Let me tell you, the last time I drank five beers I was probably ...well, never mind what I was probably doing, but let's just say, I don't drink beer anymore, but wow, I did not have a hangover. That might be my problem. I need to stick to the simple stuff, like beer, which is probably what my brother should do, as you'll see when I detail the 'Bachelor' party later in this post.
Next day, we get to our destination, beautiful Tybee Island, Georgia, and upon arrival to our resort, CW and I were looking at each other and thinking, "This does not look good." The place just looked a little run down on the outside, but when we got into our room, WHOA! Georgeous, three bed-room, three bath, we-just-walked-into-a-Real-World-episode house. Accommodations, A+.
$350 later, and three hours at the island Publix where we stock up on food for the week, we come back to find hubby and Coach loaded already, kids happily swimming in the pool. The set up was perfect--there was a Cabana Grill, and right off the pool was a quaint little place (OK, a beach-side dive) called Sea Dawgs. We spent our fair share of $$$ in Sea Dawgs.
That night, after eating Steak Salads that CW made, and that I later threw up (there you go Blair, couldn't let you down--for those of you who don't know Blair, she's a reader who wrote to me once that she and her friends love my puke stories)... digressing here, and I'm not writing this on my computer, but my Alphasmart NEO and it's hard to see what I've previously written, so bare/bear (I never know which one and am too lazy to figure it out) with please!
First night of vaca: three youngest children asleep on one bed, the two girls are watching, you guessed it, HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL, and our husbands have gone MIA. CW, Ajers and I decide to go find them, and we tell the girls that we'll be downstairs (Cuz we knew finding the men would result in simply going downstairs to Sea Dawgs). The great thing about our set-up was that we could see our balcony of our room from Sea Dawgs, which made being at the bar very attainable, especially when CW would just go upstairs to check the kids every 15 minutes (Oh, and to refresh her drink).
I am boring myself right now trying to remember this story to retell it all so I might just have to offer snippets of the rest of the trip, which included the first night at Sea Dawgs, the crashing of a Mexican wedding where we partied with the bride and groom all night (well, until I threw up), and Coach traded his baseball cap for an authentic Mexican sombrero, and they all did tequilla shots and the Macarena, cuz really, what Mexican wedding is complete without tequilla and the Macarena?
My parents and their good friends, and their kids (who are our age) and their kids, (who are my kids' ages) all arrived on Sunday, and that's when we were re-introduced to the Rocket Fuel.
Poolside, we had a waitress named Tess, who would deliver us drinks from Sea Dawgs when we were too lazy to get off our butts and walk two flights to make our own drinks. Well, they had some really nice pina coladas over at Sea Dawgs, and pina coladas are nice, easy drinks to ease you into the day. Well, one afternoon, Coach, hubby, my father, and his friend, who I will now call Neil Armstrong, were all poolside, while we women, being ever-so-subservient, were probably upstairs cleaning the condo and making meals. (OK, we were really lying in bed with hangovers watching Dr. Hollywood 90210, when Dr. Ray performed the vaginaplasty on his ever-so-cute receptionist. And to quote dear Dr. Ray, that surgery is his favorite type to do because the vagina is so pretty. Ewwww. We must have watched six episodes in a row, and I never, never watch TV, you all know that!)
Back to Rocket Fuel. So, the guys are getting loaded, and we discover that Neil Armstrong has suggested to the guys that they get a 151 Rum floater on top of their pina colodas because if you stir it, "it just blends right in."
Yep, they were about ready to take off! One of these drinks and you were well on your way. So, I had one, and decide it's a little bit too powerful so maybe we could lighten the strong taste of the rum by adding just a little bit of Kahlua. Yeppers! My drink of choice, a Rocket-Fuel-Injected Pina Colada with added Kahlua for taste. Oh, and a cherry on top please.
So, this got us through the week, and into the evenings where we would convene at Sea Dawgs where a Jack-Black lookalike was DJing and allowing whomever wanted a shot to take the microphone and do what he pleased. The Coach rocked the house down every single night at Sea Dawgs with his dancing and karaoke moves.
Oh yeah, and I guess there were fireworks on the beach July 3. The kids enjoyed them...
On the fourth, we Rocket-Fueled during the day and then that night we hit a dock-side bar called Dewie's where this band, The Trainwrecks, were playing. They thought they were the trainwrecks until all nineteen of us showed up--10 adults, nine kids. Anyway, check out their site, they're really cool guys and played everything we requested, and play downtown Savannah too.
Did I mention that I am in Tybee Island because my youngest brother is about to wed? Yeah, that's what I'm getting to...
So, it's Thursday night, and my brothers' fiance is going out with her girlfriends in Savannah, so we all go out for my brother's 'bachelor'party. Since this is a destination wedding, his bachelor party consisted of me, hubby, coach, CW, my father, my mother, my sister, her hubby, my other brother, and a few other family friends. After wearing out Sea Dawgs, we decide to venture to the 'happening' side of the island, and end up at a few interesting places, one appropriately called Scandals. We're all dancing and having a good old time, meeting some of the locals and drinking and dancing, and oh, did I mention drinking? Well, somehow hubby is dancing with this little chick, and I don't mean like a cute little chick who I feel threatened by, but a woman who is really short but dancing up a storm. I had noticed a nice looking guy earlier in the night, and since everybody is talking to everybody, since everyone is buzzed, and nice and just happy to be out, Cute Guy and I discover that little chick dancing with my husband is Cute Guy's wife. And she's climbing all over Hubby like he's a rock wall or something, and I'm cracking up because it's hilarious, and Cute Guy is all southern and going, "OH Hell no!" because I think that's a southern phrase, and somehow throughout all this, Cute Guy and I decide that we need to make Little Chick and Hubby jealous, although, I already know nothing will make hubby jealous, but I go along with Cute Guys' plan to make them jealous, because hey, he's all southern and cute and if he wants to pay me some attention to make his Little Chick jealous, then Hell yeah! heh heh hehe
Little did I know at that time that Cute Guy's plan to make Little Chick jealous involved a quick-but-sturdy suck on my neck to produce, just in time for my brother's wedding, a purple hickey!
Of course, I went right up to hubby and said, "OMG, he gave me a hickey!" and then immediately after confessing this, I said, "TAKE A PICTURE SO I CAN POST IT ON THE BLOG!" hahahahahhabwaaa!
Here it is:
So, just when I think that would be the worst of the evening, we all stop at this cute place called Stir The Soul, where Coach, CW, my dad, my husband and I devour about 15 tacos and two cheeseburgers.
The bad part was, we left my two brothers at the bar alone.
And yep, one of them got arrested, and yep, I would love to go into tons of details for you, but you all know my mom is a blog-reader, and I don't think it would be fair of me to share all the family drama with you. Let's just say at 4 a.m. I awake to find my father leaving our condo, and I ask, "Is everything okay?"
His reply: "No. Your asshole brother is in jail."
And then I go into my dad's room and into the bathroom where I see my OTHER brother, the one who is getting married, has left his shirt soaking in cold water in the sink, and his shorts on rolled up on the floor all bloody.
By this time, my lips are numb and I wonder how the hell am I going to have enough Xanax for my mother and me for THIS fiasco, when Hubby wakes up and comes into the hall.
"Dead or incarcerated?"
I'm like, "Well, incarcerated now, but when mom finds out, he'll be dead for sure."
Long story much too long, there was a bar-room brawl, and as much as my brother would like to think he won, he was beat to hell, and oh yeah, he's the Best Man and needs to give a speech and do Best Man things the very next day.
Fortunately, in leiu of all that shit and drama and trauma, the only unfortunate event during the wedding was a three-hour power outtage at the Hyatt where the wedding party and guests were staying.
The wedding was beautiful, and everyone had feared that the Savannah heat and humidity would be terrible since the ceremony was to be outside at Forsyth Park, but God cooperated and it was a mild 85 with no humidity.
And now I have a new sister-in-law, a brother on probation, Rocket-Fueled memories at Sea Dawgs, a hickey, a tan, about 10 extra pounds, but all in all, it made for a great story.
Now, the question for you is: How much of this do you believe?