Wednesday, September 29, 2010

A story with two endings. Peeing next to the valet stand. Or not.

"I have to pee." I told Sami as I staggered towards the lobby of our hotel.
"We're almost there" he reassured me. "We're close."

"Not gonna make it" I said through clenched teeth as I swayed through the parking lot on perilously high stilettos.
"Sure you are" he said confidently.
"Nope, I'm not. I gotta pee Right Now."
"No, no you don't."
"Yes I do. I really, really do."
"There is nowhere to pee out here" he said matter-of-factly.
"Like hell there isn't. I'm gonna hit that palm tree."
"Like hell you are."
"Yes, I will."
"In heels?"
"Better against that tree than in the middle of the lobby. In my heels, not on my heels, that's my motto."
"That doesn't even make any sense."
"I just had 4 shots of Jack Daniels in 15 minutes - this is as good as it's gonna get."
"You can't pee in front of the hotel."
"I can, and I will. And I'm gonna do it in these heels. And I'm gonna do it with dignity and grace" I declared, as I tiptoed across the manicured lawn so the spiked heels didn't get stuck in the turf.
"No, you're not."

And here is the "Choose your own Ending" part of the program. This is blogging two ways - you can choose the ending that you find most acceptable. (Mostly this is for my mother, officers of the law, and people who want to give me the benefit of the doubt. Please note that either ending was highly entertaining for the security people watching the cameras that night.) Since I tell you everything, I thought I would leave just a little veil of mystery for you to peer through. Sexy.

Option A:
He grabbed my elbow, tucked the Jack in the Box bag under his arm, slung my purse over his shoulder, and quick-stepped me to the closest ladies room. And somehow, impossible as I thought it was, I made it across the lobby and into the bathroom. Where I promptly peed on my foot.

Option B:
With a quick glance over my shoulder, I pretended to be chatting with Sami while casually leaning back against a palm tree, gazing up at the moon. I hiked up my skirt and managed, in the most elegant and refined way you can imagine, to pee. About 15 feet from the valet stand. Sami stood there, stunned. And then I simply stood up, dropped my skirt, and sauntered towards the marble lobby, waving a casual greeting to the night desk clerk.
"What the hell was THAT?" Sami hissed under his breath.
"That? That is how it is done."

In the end, it's not whether I actually managed to pee in heels on the front lawn of the resort, but whether I was capable of doing such a thing. Which I am. Allegedly.

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