"Why do I have to be a part of this Universal Experience," complained Savannah. "I'm the only normal one in this group. Nothing interesting happened to me. I just rode rides," she claimed. Oh Sa-vann-ah (drawled in Stacy Flint's characteristically sarcastic and supercilious manner).
"Where is your layover flight," Savannah asked a week before our planned trip to Universal in Orlando. I hemmed and hawed because I had been trying to hide that my Buffalo flight and her Connecticut flight meet up in Charlotte. She finally weaseled it out of me by threatening to check my email confirmation from the airline. "Why couldn't you just tell me," she asked in exasperation. "Geri and I were going to hide and jump out at you," I explained, "We were discussing wearing scary masks." There was a long pause on the phone as my daughter considered this scheme before slowly saying, "I'm not sure that would have been a great idea to do at an airport, Mom."
"That's not a story about me," Savannah said, interrupting my blog, "it's a story about you trying to get arrested and ruining our trip."
So...we're at the Charlotte airport (without masks...sad face) and check in with our gate. "Are you traveling with anyone else," the gate agent asked. We were...but Savannah had booked her ticket separately AND was coming in on a different flight so we didn't mention her. As we walked away, he called out..."What about this Savannah (mispronounce) Mosiman?" We returned to the counter, I explained she was my daughter and he HANDED OVER HER TICKET TO ME. What?!?!? What happened to the twenty forms of ID, DNA testing, character witnesses, and retina scan? Twenty minutes ago I had to take off my shoes and get my naked insides X-rayed but now the airport trusts me to take a batch of plane tickets and find suitable homes for them?
Naturally, Geri and I began hatching a diabolical plot. "Let's not tell Savannah we have her ticket and hide so the gate guy can't see us," Geri giggled. Oops...check that. Geri doesn't actually giggle. It's more of a villainous chuckle. Also, it occurs to me that most of my diabolical plots involve me hiding. Nevertheless, I completely ruined our scheme because I was so excited to see Savannah that I immediately told her what happened. She was thrilled that the airport tried to raffle her plane ticket away.
"Also, NOT a story about me," Savannah said, interrupting again, "It's a story of the break-down in security of one of our nation's chief means of mass travel."
After a full day of fun and frolic at Universal, we returned to our hotel, exhausted. "Let's play cards down at the pool," Geri said. I glanced at the clock. It was after midnight (cue Eric Clapton song). "Okay," I moaned. We made it down to a table and Geri brought out her euchre deck. Or shall we call it her anti-euchre deck. Full of fours and fives and sixes and sevens and eights. Really? Bright side...we'd have to call it a night! "If only we had another deck," someone said. If only. And then, out of the darkness, an idiot said, "I have a deck of cards in my suitcase." Yes...that idiot would be me.
Okay...back in business. Katie, of course, couldn't care less about my feelings and refused to be my partner so I was stuck with Geri. And, despite Geri and the fact that it was 1:30 in the flipping morning, I was kicking twenty-year-old euchre a$$. Excuse the language but as you can see...it's late.
I made some sort of move and, despite Geri, earned a trick when Savannah and Katie decided to dissect my move and explain, in excruciating detail, how I could have earned two tricks had I been a better euchre player. WHAT!?!?!? I nodded patiently, waiting for the lecture to be over so I could soundly whoop their a$$es and go to bed...but no-oo-oo-oo...they sensed I was placating them and were insistent that I fully understand the error of my ways. A Sunday School feltboard was dragged out and they re-diagrammed our last hand until I exploded...poolside.
"Kind of about me," Savannah admitted, "but could have easily fit into Part 2: Katie. And also, we were just trying to help you be a better card player."
AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The next night we were at the Hardrock Hotel's restaurant as recommended to us by our Lyft driver, James. Geri, developing a case of alligator arms, excused herself as the bill was delivered. Delivered to me with an accompanying souvenir pen as I had blatantly told the waitress about my diabolical plan to steal one of the restaurant's pens as I kind of have a penchant for stealing pens. I am currently in a support group. Again...long day. Hot sun. Exhausted. Now midnight. Math...not my favorite subject. Dividing up a bill by flickering lantern light. Two young woman with me who EXCEL at math (little math humor there), refusing to help and enjoying my struggle. Add to that (second mathematical joke...BAM!), varying forms of payment being used. "Put my portion on my room card," Geri had instructed before breezing away. Savannah and I had cash. I added...I subtracted...I multiplied...divided...threw in a fraction or two...cross-multiplied because that's what I always do when I encounter a fraction and then gave my very understanding waitress and pen-stealing accomplice a pile of cash and a card. She walked away while Savannah and Katie berated me for undercutting our server's tipping method. I forget if I was suppose to tell her to use the card first and then add in the cash or the cash first and then use the card but whatever I did...DESTROYED the life of my waitress. I still don't understand it...even when they pulled out the feltboard.
"Another story about how you don't listen and can't take constructive criticism," Savannah remarked. "Not about me."
Wait! I've got one! Hundred percent Savannah!
Searching for a souvenir t-shirt to appease Sydney who could not get the time off between school and work to go to one of her FAVORITE places on earth, I stumbled onto a fantastic idea suitable for this year's Christmas card. I would get every member of our family their own Hogwart House t-shirts. We'd taken the quiz. And re-taken the quiz because 3/4 members of the family were furious with the results. We had all been sorted. So I selected two adorable yellow Hufflepuff shirts for Sydney and myself before reaching for a Slytherin. And Savannah threw a complete temper tantrum. "I will NOT wear a Slytherin shirt," she glared, in a very Voldemort-y fashion. "But the whole family will be wearing their House shirts," I wheedled. In typical Slytherin fashion, Savannah selfishly refused to let me buy her a shirt. Christmas was, obviously, ruined.
"Temper tantrum is a bit of an exaggeration as applied to me," Savannah pointed out, "I simply said no and you threw a fit."
"But it's still a story about YOU," I declared, again...victorious.
"Kind of," Savannah shrugged.
"No...not kind of," I insisted, dragging out a feltboard. "Here...let me prove it to you."
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