Anniversary Vacation - Day 2

June 1, 2015

I wake at my typical the-sun-is-just-peeking-over-the -horizon hour. This is truly my favorite part of the day. The beach is vacant. Not even the beach service guys have begun their day. The Gulf is calm, shades of teal and crystal clear turquoise, with an occasional white cap rolling to shore and gently sweeping back. A couple of gulls and pigeons are hanging out, gliding around and stopping by now and again to perch on the small ledge outside the balcony railing. I briefly leave my peaceful thoughts for a quick prayer that none of our neighbors are rookies and decide to feed them. The aroma of my coffee combined with the salty air and smell of the paper mill situate me completely. I'm home.

For the next couple of hours, I sit there as the haze lifts, entirely lost in memories of "growing up PC". I considered the vast changes to the City and the Strip over the years. Everything  is different - except the Gulf. It was, is and will forever be the same. In the global sense, at least. I am fully aware that the 50 yards of sandbar from the shore outward was man made - a convenience and safety feature, of which this native approves. Then it begins. A man makes his way to the shoreline to set up for his family just ahead of the bronze beach service dude who jabs an orderly line of royal blue umbrellas into the sand along the shore. Then, situates chairs around each umbrella before entering his hut to begin taking rental fees. The jet ski service guys quickly join the bustle and a steady stream of vacationers begin to trickle in setting up their day camps.

I'm brought back to real-time by the sound of the sliding glass door opening and the voice of #3 declaring that the remote has no batteries. LOL. Shortly, a man pops his head out and declares that he has gotten the closet door open. He also felt the need to tell me not to lock it again. I resist the urge to refer to him as Captain Obvious along with my Thank You. "I don't suppose you have any AA batteries, do you?", I asked. "What size?", He says. "I don't know, the AA size?" The sarcasm in my voice is apparent. He says, "I'll check." I assume he'll say he didn't in retaliation for my sarcastic comment, but he delivers and is quickly on his way out. By now, everyone is up and moving, donning their swim suits and packing their things for the trip down. My husband, Mac, announces that he has put duct tape over the closet door latch and button to avoid another crisis AND that he watched Captain Obvious fix the situation by removing the door by the hinges, just as he'd said the night before. I thanked him for thinking to bring the duct tape (a family necessity - regardless of the setting) and eliminating a potential stress trigger for me. Then, I stop by the kitchen to down some fruit, granola and yogurt before following the rest to the beach.

I decided to run to the car for ear buds before entering my sandy nest for the day. So, I threw on my cover up and took the skywalk over to the deck. As I approached the car, I realized what we'd forgotten the night before. There, under my windshield sat a citation. "No parking permit" I imagined the Sargent standing feet apart, leaning slightly backwards with his elbows resting on his sides scribbling on his ticket pad through mirrored sunglasses, lips in a line. "Crap!" I glanced at Mark's truck. He'd been lucky... no citation. Fortunately, there was no cost involved. I wondered what to do. Of course, I'd wandered away from my cellular device, a no-no in my husbands book, but there I was, feeling tethered to my car. For as there was no cost with the citation, there was a threat of towing or booting (I couldn't help having the fleeting thought - wonder if we could have them tow it to the shop?) Back in real-time, I decided to grab a pen from my car, flip the citation over and write a note. "We're in unit 123, tower 2. Owners failed to leave passes, but we've called for them." Then, I put my first initial, last name (which always brings it's fair share of eye rolls when we're at the beach, as though we're lying) and added my cell number... as if they cared. I placed the citation-converted-to-stationary back under the wiper blade and headed back to the unit for my cell and rest of the day's necessities. Since everyone was gone, I slipped into Mama mode and quickly tidied up the place a bit before heading to the beach.

Exiting the elevator on the ground floor, the smell of sweat, salt and chlorine were thick. I must be near the indoor pool - mental note made. Moving toward the lobby doors, I see a couple of groups, carts in tow, obviously hurrying to make the 10 AM check-out deadline. "Ewwwww", I thought. I detest that part. Not only the end-of-vacation part, but the packing up, loading up, AND the seemingly endless drive home. Nope, I think to myself and shake it off, Taylor Swift style. Not getting bummer thoughts in my head on the first full day here. Opening the door to the deck, I feel the perfect breeze. It's overcast now making it a very comfortable day outdoors. I reach the deck steps and pull off my sandals. On the ground to my right are a somewhat neat line of every size, color and style of casual shoe you can imagine. Flip-flops, mules, Sperry's, tennis shoes, little girl's flowered sandals, little boys Spiderman slip-ons, men's canvas crocs, just everything. Not being one to follow this practice, I drop my sandals in my bag and step into the sand. It's warm, not hot. With that familiar silky feeling causing the occasional squeak when I walk. I sink down with each step thinking of how my calves will not appreciate the work-out after a couple of days. In the distance, I see my loves. Mac has set up the market umbrella that I stole from Ross (not really, but got a great deal) the day before we left home. I actually hadn't planned to bring it... bought it for pool side at home, but was glad he threw it in the mix. See, #2, #3 and I have a more olive complexion, tan quickly and don't easily burn. Mac and #1, on the other hand burn almost instantly. I say they're severely Caucasian, decidedly translucent. Plus, if it weren't for the overcast, I would spend some time in the shade too. It's a marathon, not a sprint. Our towels were neatly laid out and the cooler served as a table. We'd planned the trip so quickly that we didn't bring beach chairs, floats and 17 other things that we'd liked to have had. Hence, the 6 trips to the nearby Wal-Mart over the next couple of days. We were fine for today though.

The kids alternated between the Gulf and the pool, Mac alternated between the umbrella shade and the condo. I was content with my audio book, bottled water, and baby oil gel. I was home. "I got a citation." I said to Mac shortly after joining him. "Huh?", he asked. "My car. We forgot about the parking passes." "Oh, no!", he huffed. "No problem.", I said and went on to explain my temporary fix. "But, would you call the agency and get them?" He picked up his phone and made the call. "That's what I'm talking about!", he said after the call ended. "Good customer service is so refreshing!" The agent had given him the code to another unit where we could get passes and asked to ensure our locked door situation was resolved. Mac and I have always worked in jobs where providing good customer service was expected. As such, we hold high expectations when we're on the receiving end - considering ourselves somewhat experts on the subject. Unfortunately, we don't see it as often as we should and it is a huge pet peeve for us both. "Yes, it is!" I reply with approval.

Mac decides to head up to retrieve the passes while I remain in the same spot. It's clouding up good within a little while and smells like rain is coming, so I grab some of our things and trek back to the condo. I'd been sitting on the balcony for a bit, occasionally looking down to inventory what we'd left on the beach. On about my third scan, I noticed that our umbrella was no longer open, in fact it was lying closed over our towels. The wind had picked-up when I wasn't watching and some nice person had helped us out by closing it. But, why did they lay it down? As I looked closer, I could tell that the bottom half of the pole was still stuck upright in the sand. "Great!", I yelled. It broke in half! That someone I thought was so nice for helping us out, probably closed it and laid it with our things after the wind caught it and slammed them in the face. Oh well, bummer # whatever is now on the books. Mac returns after retrieving and placing the parking passes. "Hey, I got a remote too.", he said. Oops, I forgot to tell him that Captain Obvious brought batteries. I'm sure we will misplace one before it's over, so it's all good. "The umbrella is toast.", I said. Without a word, Mac simply turns and heads out the door to survey the damage. He'd reminded everyone but me to close it before leaving it. It's raining gently now and the girls pile in to fix themselves lunch. I fix something for myself, and retreat to the bedroom to eat, shower and cuddle up for a nap. 

I'm showered and dressed when Mac returns. With the girls zonked in the living room, we decide to head out for a few of those 17 things we wanted. The rain has stopped now and the sun is just about to start setting, so the humidity is at high caliber. I knew better than to attempt "fixing" my hair - it would, for the most part, be a curly hair kinda trip. Thank heaven for claw clamps!! We visit Publix this time as Wal-Mart was mysteriously, completely out of bananas. Then, to one of the 600 Dollar General's we'd passed on the way for floats and a chair. Mac had visited the bronze body dude when he retrieved the broken umbrella and rented a four chair set up for the rest of the trip. He's a mind reader sometimes. The kids were starving when we returned and I had become painfully aware of the sinus infection that I'd been fighting for a couple of weeks. So, Mac made my stroganoff that had been consistently requested by the kids throughout the day. I threw in a load of towels, changed into PJ's and spent some time on the balcony. The breeze was cool and the surf lulling. There were a handful of people with flashlights on the beach searching for the illusive hermit crab. I could hear faint sounds of island music in the distance. I was home.

Mac served me dinner where I sat and joined me in a bit. We briefly discussed the day and plans for the next before sitting quietly for a while, together enjoying the view, the sounds, the breeze, and the peace. At about 11, my battery was nearly dead, so I headed in for bed. I know, that's super late for me, but I was on vacation! Everyone else followed suit shortly.