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Well, I slept well until 4 am when my bladder jolted me awake. I nudged Frankenbutt and asked if he’d walk with me to the bathroom/shower house and he agreed. As I was walking back, I noticed that it was almost chilly outside. Hmm, this might be the only time cool enough to partake in our “marital privileges”. And so we did. In a 4 ½ foot tall tent (at the center only) and with Coco snoring loudly next to us. It was quite romantic. OK, it was quite industrial.
We slept in until 9 again, a bad habit I fear we’ll have to address come Saturday. I got up and immediately set about preparing the Pancake mix. I noticed that my non-stick pie pan I’d been using for pancakes seems to have lost some of its Teflon coating. I forged ahead, excited to be having fresh blueberry pancakes and maple syrup. It didn’t go well. Frankenbutt intervened and even he struggled with flipping the “stuck tighter than Dick’s Hat Band” flapjacks. We managed to get a few fully cooked and they weren’t the worst pancakes we’ve ever eaten … just the hardest ones to cook.
The only part of our honeymoon week here that resembles our original honeymoon was the games of pool. We had stayed at what was then Caesar’s Pocono Resort in Pennsylvania. It was winter and we decided that I would teach Frankenbutt to ski. That was the scene of only one of the many mini-disasters during our week in the snow covered mountains.
I’ve been skiing since I was 12. Much like my bike riding, I can do it but it’s not pretty. We started on the “bunny hill” at Camelback and Frankenbutt was a quick learner. By mid-morning, we were on the chair lift … that took some practice for him to master the dismount. After lunch, we went on one of the lower intermediate hills and Frankenbutt was so comfortable on skis that he started telling me funny stories. I don’t recall the subject matter, but something he said made me laugh so hard, I ran off the trail … and hit a tree … with my face. It left a “crease” and a little pain that a few beers helped to ease.
After the skiing incident, we opted to try the on site snow mobiling the next day. We had visions of riding out on our own, over fields of snow but it turned out to be an “organized” ride, one following the next. I was behind Frankenbutt and towards the back of the line so I decided to ease off the gas and fall back so that I could gun it and get some speed going. Frankenbutt looked back at the wrong moment. I had a good 100’ between us, gunned it, hit a little mogul, caught air and then started flying a bit sideways in the air, snowmobile and all. I shifted my body weight in just enough time to right it but I still landed with quite a jolt. The instructor wasn’t pleased. Frankenbutt and I were.
That evening, we decided to go snow tubing, with the thought that neither of us could get hurt doing that. We rented tubes, got towed up the lift and did a few runs in side by side lanes. On the third run, Frankenbutt said he’d go down Lane 2 and that I should wait until he’s midway down and then I should come down Lane 2. I did exactly as he said and to my shock, my tube jumped from Lane 2, over the snow divider to Lane 1 and then over that snow divider into the towing lane. Soon, there were metal hooks skimming my forehead and an adorable little 100 lb. woman screaming as my tube careened towards her. I managed to roll off it into the gravel lane, out of sight of Frankenbutt who was completely confused when he ended his run, turned around and didn’t see me anywhere. He followed the sounds of the screaming woman and found me on my back in the gravel, with the tow operator yelling at me that “this is not a tubing lane!” Duh!
We went back to our room to take hot showers and relax. I went into the big glass shower and was fascinated by the two molded seats on either side. I had never had a shower with a place to sit before. So, I soaped up my entire body and then sat down to wash my feet …. PHWOOOSH! Evidently, I shouldn’t have soaped my butt. I slid off the seat, my legs flew up, my head got wedged between the door and the bench and water was cascading down on my face. Frankenbutt came running when he heard the crash only to find his new bride in a twisted bubbly mess on the floor of the all glass shower. We started laughing and it took quite some time before we were composed enough to haul me out of it.
The next day, I decided to try the Champagne glass whirlpool tub that looks out over the living room below. I read the directions which said to add one capful of the bubbles solution, fill with water to the line and then turn the jets on. I did so, but it just didn’t seem to be making many bubbles. I needed bubbles to cover most of me for a photo I wanted to take and be able to show others. So, I added a few more capfuls. Frankenbutt was relaxing on the round bed (never could figure out where our heads belonged) when I called to him to help me solve the “situation”. Once I turned on the jets, it became an “I Love Lucy” episode with bubbles multiplying like the “tribbles” on the old Star Trek episode. Needless to say, turning off the jets and water didn’t stop the onslaught of bubbles; they had taken on a life of their own. Eventually, we gave up the cleaning effort, went to bed and the next morning found our entire living room floor covered in bubbles. Luckily, the management was cool about it and said it’s actually a pretty common occurrence.
They offered to move us to a well-appointed suite at their neighboring property and we accepted. They said we’d be welcome to return to the original property to participate in the honeymooner games and the couples’ meals. We opted out of the couples’ table meals (we preferred feeling relaxed at dinner, rather than forced to answer questions like “so, how many brothers and sisters do you have?”) but we did play couples’ speed pool. The other 5 couples all seemed to be “low key” compared to Frankenbutt and I who were high fiving and jumping in the air, banging our bellies together when we sunk balls. We ended up winning the little trophy and we had a blast. We noticed a few of the couples staring at us like we were crazy … and we were ok with that. Heck, we had bragging rights!
We played racquetball and let our true competitive natures come out. Both of us fought and dove for every ball … missing many of them and slamming our arms and legs into the walls. Both of us had bruises that were tender for days. After the game, we returned to our new suite which had a standard rectangular king sized bed. Nice. We both knew where to put our heads, facing the TV. While Frankenbutt lounged, I decided to take a whirlpool tub bath in the standard size tub we now had. I filled the tub with very warm water and laid in it, enjoying the bubbling. Then I got an idea. If these bubbles feel so good on my arms and legs, I could turn on my side and let the bubbles massage my back. With little more thought than that, I turned on my side and when I did, I slid my butt right back into a jet. YIKES! I had to clench my cheeks together and run for the toilet, screaming “don’t come in here!” A high colonic was not at all what I expected on that honeymoon!
In comparison, I guess this honeymoon hasn’t been as exciting … but it has had less injuries.