May 31, 2015
Locked and loaded, the dog, Twos boarded and the cat, Rick settled, we leave home at 10 AM, only an hour behind schedule. (No applause, just throw money) Both Big Al and Stevie Wonder made the trip because, A. We would be gone for almost a week, B. #2 and #3 both brought friends, and C. Four of our five travelers were girls. Three in each vehicle, we make a pit stop at the Pilot to fill-up, grab a bite to eat at Wendy's/Subway, and get me a crushed ice drink, of course. My husband, Mac had already politely asked me to keep the speed below reckless driving level (which really goes without saying when my cargo is most precious), so I set the cruise just below the speed limit accordingly. Within the first 100 miles, he called to say he thought we could pick up the pace, just a bit - probably had to do with being lapped by most all of the other cars on the Interstate. I oblige and we continue with an uneventful trip all the way to our "switch-up" point off Taylor Road in Montgomery. My two passengers boarded Big Al and Mac's two joined me for the last leg of the trip. We decided to hit I-10 off of Hwy 79 and go Hwy 77 into PC. This is something I've always liked to do so I can see all of the changes between the Mall and Hathaway Bridge. Everyone is hungry again, but anxious to get to the condo too, so we whip in BK to grab a quick bite to go... it was not tasty at all and took 30 minutes. Back on the road, I'm pointing out what "used to be" and noting what's new as we stop at the red light just before the intersection of 98 and MBR. That's when Stevie decided he'd had about enough of this traveling stuff and shut off. Side note... have I said how much I abhor this BMW? Yep, dead as a door nail 3 blocks from the condo, Mac jumps out of Big Al and pushes us into the parking lot of a surf shop. We have one of those adult conversations - you know - like the ones our parents used to have where, as kids, we would run over to hear and they would extend their arm, finger pointed toward the car, brows furrowed and simultaneously say "get back in the car!" #3 followed the order and we devised a plan that began with asking to leave Stevie parked there for a bit ("of course, take as long as you need"). All piled in Al, we finally reach our destination at approximately 5:00 PM.
To be thorough, I approached the front desk to announce our arrival. The clerk was blonde, Russian, I believe, and all helpful smiles until she realized we'd booked through a rental agency... then she quickly morphed into the Beach Condo version of the Soup Nazi - "No info for you!" (she didn't say those exact words, but that's what I imagined after being dismissed by her). After reaching the loading zone on the parking deck, everyone begins to pull things from the truck while I secure a luggage cart from the "couldn't possibly be 20 years old" drill Sargent positioned behind a podium. Arriving in the unit, I switch into "because I'm the Mama" mode directing the placement of all of our wares. I directed two of the kids to put their clothing into the owners closet since it was empty and strangely unlocked and told everyone that suitcases would be going back to the vehicle once emptied (there's just no room for them in the condo). Then, I step onto the balcony for a long deep breath filled with the old familiar scent of salt water and suntan lotion.....ahhhhhh. "Uh, Mom?" the voice of #3 comes through a crack in the sliding glass door. "It's locked." "What's locked?", I said as I was quickly jerked out of my nostalgic moment. "The closet door, and all of our stuff is in there now." No biggie, I grab a random rewards card from my purse and begin to poke it around the latch of the door. That's about the time Mac returns with the final load and takes over the locked door crisis for me. After thorough observation, he declares that the only way to remedy is to remove the door by the hinges. Not interested in risking damage within the first hour, we decide to call the rental agency to report the problem. They'll have a locksmith out in the AM.
Crisis #2 under control, Mac and I go to return the cart and discuss phase II of dealing with crisis #1, Stevie Wonder. "Where are our parking passes?", he asks. Well, fiddle, there weren't any in the room. "Let's worry about that later", we said in near unison. As we pushed the cart back into place, the cart Sargent asks "What number?" "There's a number?", we said. Sarge looks at us crooked and says, "Yes, oh, it's 13." Mac and I whip our faces toward each other and grin. We're thinking the same thing... great. Arriving back at the surf shop, I jump in SW, he cranks without hesitation and I drive back to the condo, stiff, as though my posture somehow keeps the car in motion. Mac follows closely, ready to jump out and push at any moment. But, all goes well. We call the brood to unload the car while Mac and I jump back in Al for a grocery run. Everyone is settled and snoozing by mid-night. But, we forgot something....
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