...and I was amazed, every morning, how radiant and beautiful my friend Kathy could look.
I was also amazed, how enthusiastic she could be about things so many of us take for granted. For example, as she gave us the grand tour of the suite we were sharing for our Girls' Getaway, we played a rousing game of "What's in the closet?" "An ironing board," I suggested. "The dry bar," wondered Geri. Kathy fairly pranced with excitement. "No," she cried, flinging the door wide, "Voila!" We looked. She looked. Then she disappeared into the closet while Geri and I slapped our foreheads. We hadn't thought to propose a passageway to Narnia. "Where are they," Kathy wailed, not realizing that the washer and dryer were in ANOTHER closet down the hallway. Impressive, nonetheless.
You learn a LOT about your friends when you vacation with them. I now understand my friend Dawn's aversion to horseback riding, I now know that the answer to the question of "Where is So-and-So?" will inevitably be "in the bathroom," and I now know that it is best to remain quiet should the topic of conversation suddenly veer to "weird areas of hair growth."
Eating out was an adventure. I freaked out over life-sized deer murals on the walls of my restroom and warned Kathy before she went in. Thinking that I'd meant taxidermied trophies, she entered trepidatiously and then was convinced that she was in the wrong room, making for an uncomfortable visit. Geri put the moves on our waiter ("I'm sure you get this ALL the time," she said, "but you look just like a television star." We were just waiting for her to flip her hair.) while a customer put the moves on Kathy while she enjoyed her waffles. Believing ourselves to be of royal status, we demanded the adjustment of television volumes and returned drinks with the wave of a regal hand. And we were, as always, so mature. "Amy," Kathy hissed across the table, "don't look (I looked) but isn't that the Why Guy from Channel 2?" The casually hushed tone that descended on our table wasn't transparent...AT ALL. "He's too tall." "His face doesn't look like that." "That guy's too thin." I looked and then nodded at Kathy. Sighting confirmed. But for some reason...contact MUST be made. Enter Dawn who marched right over. I complimented his body of work. "You were really believable dressed as a dinosaur to promote the museum on Thursday," I said. "Thanks," he replied in a humble manner. You know what they say...the bigger they are, the nicer they are.
My life (and dignity) were in peril at every moment. When Dawn wasn't busy cracking me full in the face with a door while I was nodding politely to an English gentleman sporting a fedora, Geri was leaving my bedroom door open as I was getting dressed ("Get over it, Amy," she snapped, "We're all girls here."). After I worked up the nerve to FINALLY book what would be my first massage EVER (and forcing Geri to join me for a Couples Massage so I wouldn't be alone), the receptionist with the highest, thickest eyebrows that I have ever seen, looked me up and down disdainfully, sniffed, and then said they were "booked." Meanwhile, in the backroom, they were sending an employee home because it was so slow. Earlier, I'd scuttled off to the fitness room to furtively "work-out." "Where's Amy," someone asked, "In the bathroom," came the reply. Unfortunately, Deb and Kathy managed to track me down and, yes, take pictures. 
Our suite was wonderful. Geri and I, who share the same philosophy regarding beds and towels, would peer into our friend Deb's room each morning in dismay at her perfectly-made bed with crisp military corners and her fluffy towels, folded and hung with neat precision. When members of our group declined housekeeping services, Geri and I wailed. Obviously, our trip was ruined.
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