Knock three times …

My very good friend BFJ and I enjoyed another hotel-and-spa visit this past weekend. We have our usual overnight hotel stay and dinner routine on Friday night, then a huge breakfast and a couple of spa treatments on Saturday morning and afternoon. Around the dinner hour we usually head to our respective homes to recuperate from all the calories ingested and the sore tummy muscles from laughing so hard. We do this several times a year, and our last spa weekend in February was quite – um, how should I say this? – eventful.

We hadn’t spoken to each other face to face for a few months, so we had an awful lot to catch up on. Although my life has been pretty bland lately, hers has been quite interesting, so over dinner, she talked and talked and talked. I listened and drank and drank and drank.

After dinner, instead of heading back to our hotel room to continue the gabfest in private, we decided to go to the hotel bar. Which had these really yummy champagne-like drinks that went down nicely. Which kept tasting like more. Which ended up making our bar bill almost twice as much as our dinner bill had been at the Italian restaurant we’d eaten at earlier. Which also made for a couple of loud, giggly women who really are of an age to know better.

Of course, we weren’t driving, and the bar was in our hotel, so we safely staggered upstairs shortly before the bar closed. But naturally, we were too keyed up to sleep, so although we had no more alcohol, we partied it up some more. Eventually, I had a shower (you try shaving your legs after drinking what I drank that evening – I dare you! It’s a real challenge!), and BFJ changed into her pajamas. But when I emerged, instead of calming down, we simply kept on talking and laughing. Like a couple of goofy teenagers! And by this time it was after 2 am.

imagesThen, from the room next door, there came three startlingly loud thumps on the wall we shared. We froze in mid-giggle. I don’t think we quite comprehended what it was at first.

Then BFJ sputtered in amazement, “We’ve been SHUSHED!”

That started us up again. We rolled under the covers, howling with muffled laughter. Yes, we’d actually been shushed by someone in the hotel room next door. Two grown women acting like loud, drunken idiots had been shushed by someone trying to get some sleep. How embarrassing! And how much more lame and immature could we be???

Yet, the next morning, we huddled in our room till we were quite certain that whoever had been next door had already left, just so we could avoid seeing them and their accusing glare in the hotel hallway or at the checkout desk. So, yes, I guess we could actually be more lame and immature after all.

Advertisements

13 responses to “Knock three times …

  1. Growing up, like being normal, is highly overrated.

  2. Ricardipus – Hard to believe that they put me in charge of small children, isn’t it?

  3. Goodness me, you look away for a bit and it all becomes drunken-ness and debauchery around here. ๐Ÿ˜‰

    Glad to hear the first day of school was survive-able.

  4. I’ll be too busy giggling at, er, with, you. Because I don’t really want to grow up either.

  5. I am so taking you out for a night on the town and plying you with drinks, just to watch you giggle uncontrollably.

  6. Priceless. So wish that was my story of this past weekend with friends rather than the lame disco experience.

  7. This is funny ๐Ÿ˜€
    Nothing wrong with being lame and immature once in a while. Life would be boooring if we all had to act grown up all the time ๐Ÿ˜‰

  8. “How embarrassing! And how much more lame and immature could we be???”

    Hey, you’re a teacher who deals with immaturity on a daily basis. I think you’ve earned the right to be silly!

  9. I want to know why you had to shave your own legs when you were at a spa???

  10. Ouch.

    I’ve already shushed someone in a hotel. Maybe it was you? ๐Ÿ˜‰

  11. How old did you say you were? Or did you never mention that? Now you see what alcohol will do to two single women in a hotel bar. I hope you sweat it all out the next day in a sauna. It will have cured whatever hangover you had. Possibly cured your embarrassment too. Tsk!

    • Irene – I’m actually 51 years old on the outside, but apparently about 15 on the inside. And oddly enough, there was no hangover for either BFJ or me. I wish I could remember the name of the Italian bubbly stuff we were drinking, because I highly recommend anything that can be drunk in copious amounts with so little effect the next morning!

      Jazz – That’s part of the embarrassment: I’ve always been a shusher, never a shushee!

      XUP – They’ll massage you, warm you, pat you, rub you, cream you, wash you (and your hair too, depending upon the treatment), exfoliate you, but not shave your legs – at least, not at the spas I’ve been to.

      hannah – I may deal with immature kids all day, but they eventually grow up. Apparently I didn’t!

      bevchen – True. And I should be thankful for small mercies like: no one I knew saw me (other than BFJ and she certainly didn’t care) and no one was hurt in the making of a very fun evening!

      wenderina – Actually, your lame disco experience made me laugh! I guess it wasn’t that funny at the time, but it’s probably getting funnier with hindsight – isn’t it?

      VioletSky – Yes, but will you shush me? I’m not sure my fragile ego could stand that again!