This weekend, I did two things that I had never done before. I went to Alabama and I used a Port-a-Potty. Neither was as bad as I had expected, but I have no future plans to to either again soon.
I didn't have a reason to go to Alabama. I woke up in the morning and scratched my a$$ just like I do every morning. Then, I had an idea. Whenever I have a good idea, I like to call someone and tell them about it, I don't care what time it is. Also, when I have a good idea, I like to preface it with the phrase, "I know what let's do". Everything sounds like a good idea when you say that first. Jamie could not refuse.
We checked into the Motel O'Aces just in time for cocktail hour. Jamie and I were parched. The woman at the front desk hadn't taken the time to inform us that cocktail hour at the Motel O'Aces means you bring your own liquor down to the lobby or try to pick up a trucker who has good pills. We decided to go out for margaritas instead.
We found a Mexican restaurant and were shown to the smoking section. Where I live, smoking indoors is a crime punishable by fines, jail time, and lung cancer. Jamie and I decided that we were going to smoke as much as we could since it was perfectly acceptable here. It turns out that eating dinner in a smoke filled room isn't all that appetizing. Margaritas are still pretty damn good. This was the kind of restaurant where you have to get up to pay. It took a long time for us to figure that out. We occupied our time with margaritas at the bar. The sexy Mexican bartender looked through his dark hair and said in a thick accent, "You don't sound like you're from here." I did that eyelash thing that I do and I said, "neither do you, Baby, neither do you." I swear, in my head, it was very, very sexy. Jamie pulled me out of the place by my arm before I embarrassed myself any further.
We spent the rest of the evening with the locals discussing the best way to get rid of wild hogs and how not to get caught should you ever need to kill an endangered species. It turns out that herons, while endangered, are awful good eating.
The next morning, we went down to the lobby for the continental breakfast. The woman at the front desk hadn't taken the time to inform us that the continental breakfast at the Motel O'Aces means you bring your own coffee down to the lobby or try to pick up a trucker who has good pills. We decided to go out for bloody Mary's instead.
We spent the afternoon in the pool. When we returned to our room, we found that our room hadn't been cleaned yet. Apparently, the woman at the front desk hadn't taken the time to inform us that room service at the Motel O'Aces means you go down to the lobby for clean towels or skip the towels and try to pick up a trucker who has good pills. We decided to go out for beer instead.
Yesterday, when we checked out of the lovely Motel O'Aces, we discovered a miscellaneous $250 charge to the bill. It seems that the staff noted a funny smell coming from our room the night before. A smell, that was mysteriously reminiscent of marijuana. I glared at Jamie who I distinctly remember telling to smoke that sh*t outside. Jamie, who had insisted that it would be okay, was now insisting that the smell must have been from her cigarettes. She explained to the woman behind the front desk that she rolls her own. The woman politely explained that we could pay the charge or tell the story to the police.
I pulled Jamie aside. We both agreed that as much as we had enjoyed our time in Alabama, the Motel O'Aces was probably considerably more comfortable than the county jail.
Using the Port-a-Potty was a slightly better experience. Slightly.