Girls' Weekend and the Craaaa-zy Innkeeper (Almost sounds like a Scooby episode)

Girls weekend.  The phrase that women cheer for and that we think strikes fear into the heart of the men we leave behind to care for the kids.  I think in many case its really quite the opposite and that the men call each other as soon as we're out of the house to say "she's gone!!  PEACE for TWO DAYS!"

So what exactly happens on a girls weekend?  I guess there are a lot of different versions.  Some with lots of debauchery and others with knitting or going without deodorant or something.  My girl's weekends generally fall into the low to moderate debauchery within the acceptable bounds of married life.  There is  non stop talking, laughing, wine, good food, shopping and generalized obnoxiousness.  And on occasion, there is an attempted friendly hostile takeover of a sunset cruise ship, but I digress (technically this has only happened twice and only once was it on a girl's weekend).

This year I have had TWO, count 'em TWO girl's weekends, and they were both great.  They were as expected with two shocking exceptions.  On the first weekend, they friggin' turned on the basketball game.  What the heck, really?  I mean if it was college ball, I could understand, but no.  They needed to watch the Celtics.  That is because Boston has eaten their brain.  FYI, I am the only non-Massachusetts/non-Connecticut resident in the whole batch of them.  The second exception was for my most recent excursion.  Every time I spoke longingly about the quaint stores I would visit, my friend suggested bicycling/ kayaking/ sweating of some sort.  Please do not get me wrong - I love nature.  I particularly enjoy relaxing in its midst.  And even though I bought a (very cheap 12 year old girl style) bicycle JUST for that occasion, I realized after 3 trips up and down my driveway that I would have a heart attack within minutes of getting on the trail.  Luckily, my athletically inclined friend took not one, but two for the team.  She did not force exercise AND she put up with a lot of shopping.

It is this most recent excursion that I want to discuss today.  We went to a great old place where you could bring your horse and board him, but your kids under 8 were not invited.  My tale begins and ends - not so much surrounding the awesome time that I had seeing my college friends (which I did) - as much as with the crackpot that owned the inn.

I was the first to arrive at our B&B and was met by someone who was very nice if not a bit scattered, and she was apparently unsure of how to ask me to sign the credit card receipt, so the proprietor who was resting now, would get that when she sees me later.  I got a key, but they had lost their second key, so could I leave my key with them when we were at breakfast so they wouldn't have to break in to clean?  I was led to my room and I loved it. But within moments I realized I was in the middle of nowhere and I did not have a diet pepsi, a bottle of wine, a snack or a clue where to get these very important items.  My friends would be arriving momentarily, but I couldn't wait.  I got directions from the #2 in command who also asked for my key back so they could make a copy and I drove off wondering how taking 7 lefts could possibly result in my getting anywhere.  It did not.  I got lost about 3 times and never found the landmark Dairy Queen referenced.  I rushed back empty handed because when I left, my friend said they were like 8 miles away.  I returned and they were not there.  I retrieved my key only to be handed a 5 pound horseshoe with a key attached that I would be privileged to lug around all weekend!  I returned to my room and waited.  My friends were still not there after 20 more minutes.  I called and was told they were stuck in traffic.  I looked at the trees and horses surrounding me wondering where traffic existed.  Maybe another 20 and they knocked on the door.  Bad sign - as soon as they got inside, I immediately saw the face of Debbie 1.  Don't get me wrong, there was only 1 Debbie present, but she calls her "slightly irritable" (understatement) self Debbie 1.  They had met the real proprietor.

I will call her Barbara, but it is not her name.  Why the anonymity?  Because I believe her reservation confirmation stated something along the line of saying she would sue my ass off if I wrote any kind of review without her prior approval.  FYI - I did not agree to this, but I'll try to be good nonetheless.  I don't imagine she was worried about a poor review of her B&B - the place was really awesome.  I think she is most likely concerned about any statements to the fact that she is bat shit crazy or of photos being posted of her walking down the path with two 1 gallon bottles of Absolut Saturday afternoon.  No wonder she was napping when I arrived.  Anyway, Barbara works for me since I couldn't remember her name any of the 27 times my friends reminded me, and that was what I called her.

Barbara apparently didn't know that I had arrived, so she told them she needed credit cards from both of them.  And  when they gave them to her confused, she asked why they gave her 2 credit cards because that was just ridiculous.  So Jenn left hers on the table and Barbara had her sign 2 credit card slips - one for my card and one for her own.  Jenn asked why she was being charged for 2 nights when I had already paid for one.  She got frustrated and drew angry lines and arrows on the documents to explain it all.  Then she asked which one of them was Salt Lizard!  They told her neither, which she would know if she had paid attention when she asked them their names.  And then it just went bad.  Eventually Debbie 1 had to explain that they were both pretty intelligent people and that neither of them had any friggin' idea what she was trying to say.  They were directed to our room.

There was a 3rd friend (and a 4th actually) who was unable to make the trip and as such, her photo was printed out and put on a stick.  She was our traveling companion.  We put her in the car seat, and we gave her a seat at the table when we ate that night.  We had conversations with about 1/2 of the outdoor patrons of the restaurant we were at and some of the people inside the restaurant got our attention too.  Sandy had pictures taken with a lot of people that night.  She enjoyed some chardonnay, got felt up by some guys walking their dog, and she was even seen in the window of the sheriff's van.  Hell, by the end of the weekend, she was even found in bed with a horse head (but who wasn't).

At breakfast the next morning, we asked if we could sit anywhere and were told yes and then told to sit exactly where we were told.  Debbie tried to get herself some coffee and was told to sit down and they would get coffee for her.  Then Jenn went and f'd it all up by asking for ice coffee.  It was as if she had asked for the gold from King Tut's tomb be air mailed to her Swiss Bank Account.  Ice coffee?  Do you know how long it will take to make ice coffee?  I wish I had known, I just threw out some cold coffee.  Oh, it will take all day to get your coffee cold.  #2 brought Jenn some coffee with steam coming off of it "is this cold enough?"  I suggested (because I am a crazy out of the box thinker) some ice cubes.  "We're out of ice cubes."  OH, well at least that explained why it would be hard to make ice coffee.  About 4 minutes later Barbara came over and asked how the coffee was and realized it was warm, so she bellowed something about putting some ice in it.  #2 came back with legit ice coffee and said she didn't realize that Babs had purchased some ice the day prior.  Um, okay.  We finished breakfast, while trying to figure out what the H it was along the way.  


Barbara asked us what we were doing.  Are you going here?  Yes, you should go here.  I'll draw you a map!    She finished accosting the British couple with  comments about how much different this was than Jolly Ole England and off she went.  Then I heard #2 giving another nice couple directions... "You go to H-A-Y  Cock Road."  "Haycock?" the guy said?  "Yeah, HayCOCK."  Can someone please tell me why she felt inclined to spell the "Hay" and leave the rest alone?  Anyway, around then Barbara came back with her hand drawn map (aka she hit print on a document with directions and no map).  She explained her document while Jenn tried to follow along with it on an actual map that she had brought herself.  Barbara smacked her hard in the arm and told her that map wasn't going to get her anywhere.  Then she smacked me in the back as she asked Jenn if she had signed up for her horse chores yet.  Then she called to #2 in the kitchen to tell her about the funny she had made.  


Other than that, I eavesdropped on everyone else's conversations and joined in where I felt like interjecting something (if you ask my travel companions they will say that this happened ever 3 minutes and that I have the attention span of an ADHD gnat).  I also spent some quality time shushing Debbie and Jenn as they openly mocked Barbara at the table while she was still in the room.  They said she couldn't hear, but I was not convinced.  People like that don't need hearing, they just know.  I was determined to make Barbara love us (me) by the time we left.  And if that couldn't happen, I wanted her to smack Debbie (1) just to see how that played out.  That was the best of Barbara as we didn't see her that much the rest of the trip.  


But I know we're buds now, for 3 reasons.  #1 - She killed a hive/colony/swarm/whatever of hornets that stood between me and my safe return from the pool.  #2 - Debbie was allowed to get her own coffee and Jenn was handed a perfect goblet of ice coffee the second morning.  #3 - When I told her that the soap dish in our room broke, she merely told the British man that we had a wild night and she did not hit any of us.  Though I did awaken to an odd bed companion...I wonder how that got there...