Alternative Thanksgiving Adventures Part Two: Of Toast and Toilets

The story of the saga of our Thanksgiving adventures continues this week with a lively discussion of toast, toilets, and more.

As mentioned in last week’s post, we went to a hotel about an hour and a half away from home. I was surprised that there really wasn’t much traffic on the road. The Hell Signs were all that kept us company. Whenever we drove past any businesses, the parking lots were empty. I felt almost like we had wondered into some post-apocalyptic wasteland (but one which still had lots of corn). I wondered how the roads could be so empty. Maybe everyone had already arrived at their destination already, I thought.

But then when we went to dinner, I learned that restaurants are like beacons attracting ALL THE CROWDS. Like moths to a flame, or like moms to a sale at Target, they gather.

I soon learned, however, that restaurants were not the only hiding places for the masses.

So we went to this hotel, right? We’ve stayed at this particular hotel a few times. I used to attend a conference in the area and always stayed there. It’s clean and affordable. The Husband and I also have bought into this fantasy that going to a hotel Just Because will be a nice relaxing experience. It can be for sure, but there are also some things that are definitely not relaxing:

STRESS SOURCE #1: The pool invasion

When we got into the parking lot, it didn’t look terribly busy.

When we actually got into the hotel, we learned we were wrong.

See, packed into the few cars in the lot was a family reunion. A big, loud, oblivious family reunion. All the adults decided to hang out in the breakfast room while they sent all the kids to the pool across the hall. So when we went down to the pool — mistakenly believing we’d have it to ourselves — we were instead met with a tidal wave of shrieking noises as the herd of small children played their favorite pool game. What game, you ask? It’s called “jump into the pool over and over and over and over and over and over until the whole room is soaked from excessive splashing.”

We didn’t last long in said pool.

STRESS SOURCE #2: The battle for temperature control

I am always cold. The Husband is a human sun. You would think this would balance things out, but no. His heat is so powerful it can make me go from Frozen Solid Ice Cube to Melting Puddle in a matter of minutes. So I have to employ various devices and techniques to create the perfect temperature balance so I can survive the night. Note how I said that *I* have to create this balance. The Husband can just sleep. Whenever. Wherever. He has no such struggle. No struggle at all.

I love him…but I hate his lack of struggle.

As previously mentioned, at home I have a variety of means to create balance. I’ve got closets full of different blanket and sheet options. I’ve got a heated mattress topper with various available temperature settings. I have a space heater. I have a ceiling fan. There are lots of things I can do to make things work.

But at the hotel, I’m much more limited. I have a rickety temperature control that only knows two settings — Hellfire and Ice Palace. I have their limited amount of blankets. And I HAVE. NO. FAN.

So I spent most of our Night of Relaxation battling the Hellfire setting and sweating up a storm without my trusty fan to give me aid.

And The Husband slept. He just slept. Again, no struggle.

STRESS SOURCE #3: The Battle for Toast

Another reason we like this particular hotel is they have a great breakfast. This time around, however, the great breakfast was not as much of a perk. For one thing, the loud family reunion had pretty much taken over the dining space as well as picked over the food. For another, we didn’t want to eat too much since we were doing an early lunch at a nearby Cajun restaurant and wanted to save plenty of room.

The solution, I decided, was to just have some toast.

But the universe clearly did not want me to have toast, because into my path it placed Overly Helpful Grandma.

“You having toast?” Overly Helpful Grandma asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

She smiled. “Oh, I love toast. It’s so great.”

I nodded, confused at her enthusiasm.

“You know,” she said, getting right up in my face because Overly Helpful Grandmas don’t believe in personal space. “This toaster has a cancel button.”

“Okay,” I said.

“I mean it,” she said. “You can push the cancel button anytime you need to stop making toast.”

“That’s nice,” I said.

She somehow got even closer. “The button’s right there whenever you’re ready.”

I thought maybe she needed the toaster and that’s why she was so eager for me to push the button. Nope. She just really really wanted to tell me about it.

“It’s right there,” she continued. “You’re looking right at it.”

“I don’t think I need to use the button.”

“But it’s right there.”

I looked at my toast. “THE BUTTON IS RIGHT THERE TO THE LEFT!” she yelled. (It was on the right.) “TO THE LEFT!”

Deep breathing was required at this point. “I’m just checking on my toast,” I said as I leaned in to take a peek.

“THE BUTTON!” she shouted.

I finally pushed the cancel button just to make the yelling stop. At that point, Overly Helpful Grandma was all smiles as she walked away.

STRESS SOURCE #4: The Walls Can Talk

We still had some down time before checking out, so we decided to sit and read in a room for a bit. It was then that we were reminded about a down side to staying in hotels — the walls are paper thin. Because we then heard the following exchange:

*GAGGLE OF KIDS ASSEMBLES IN THE HALLWAY AND POUNDS ON NEARBY DOOR*

KID: Dad! Dad! Dad! Dad!

DAD: WHAT DO YOU NEED?!?

KID: Dad!

DAD: WHAT IS GOING ON?! I’m on the freakin’ toilet!

KID: Dad, there isn’t any ice.

DAD: What do you mean there isn’t any ice?

KID: There’s no ice.

DAD: Did you go down the hallway?

KID: Can you go?

DAD: I’m on the toilet!

KID: Well, we already went and saw there’s no ice.

DAD: Then why are you bothering me while I’m on the toilet?

KID: Cause we need ice.

DAD: Go downstairs and try the machines there.

KID: Can you go?

DAD: I AM ON THE MOTHER FREAKIN’ TOILET! Now leave me alone!

KID: MMkay.

*The gaggle of kids goes away for about ten seconds then resumes pounding on the door*

KID: Dad?

DAD: I’m on the expletive expletive bleepin’ toilet!!!

I’m guessing the kids frequently interrupt dad while he’s in their home bathroom too, because he was quite adamant about reminding them umpteen million times that Toilet Time is Dad Time, and it is sacred and disturbances are NOT welcome.

So there you have it, friends. Overall we did enjoy our alternative thanksgiving quite a bit. That being said, we are looking forward to staying off the roads next year. I’m not sure what exactly we’ll do — our holiday traditions are still taking shape — but I’m sure it will be great. If nothing else, I have found a newfound appreciation for being able to make toast in peace. How was your holiday? Tell me about it in the comments. See you next week!