Trip Report: ULTRA BUMP

[rizla]

HE DON'T (Cont'd)

How did this happen? How did I LET this happen? I left the womb, got in a taxi that I’m quite sure was a time machine and after only a few minutes and 500J later, I arrived in the 1970s. Only Hugh wasn’t there and the bunnies had aged considerably.

Our private guide recognized us as soon we stepped foot in the large room because, I’m assuming, it was easy to pick out fresh meat. Plus, we were practically bumping into people because our heads were turning in every direction but forward. Mikey called me on my cell, said he was looking at us, then waved from across the room. I was relieved to go to him and opted for a cool, I’ve-got-this walk; although, I wanted to run. He was handsome and strong and every bit as kind as our connection said he would be.

A lovely woman from the Italian restaurant was next on our list on the welcoming committee. Sharlene welcomed us with warm, hearty hugs, as if she had known us for years. She was given strict instructions to make sure we ate the ravioli. She said that she would speak with the Maitre D to see about getting us a table.

A short time had passed since we arrived and yet I felt drastically different. Although he didn’t have to pay to get in, my old friend Anxiety decided he was NOT going to miss this party! I ordered a scotch and soda at the bar with the hopes that it would send him back to whatever hell hole he’s been hiding in, but that just seemed to encourage him more. Mikey took us on a tour of Hedo.

I dressed in heels and an ornate cover up, with a just-in-case, sexy lingerie number underneath. Navigating through the property in heels, a lit Parliament, pocketbook, and a drink was proving to be a challenge. All I wanted to do was sit down with Lisa and regroup. Anxiety was fueled by the Dewars and already having a blast, he told me to shut up. I obeyed.

The odd thing about the tour was the time of night. Everyone was either in the dining room or in their rooms, which left the rest of the place a ghost town. I saw the infamous slide, the nude side’s pool, beach, and hot tub, disco, and piano bar. It was all deserted, dark, and dank. The highlight was the glass bottom Jacuzzi in the ceiling for people to look up at and see what’s going on. This may not be entirely true, but it felt much hotter here. We ended up back at the dining room, where we both abandoned our drinks and tried to make a plan. Hedo sober probably wasn’t our best plan, but then again, we stopped making good decisions when we thought coming here would be fun.

Sharlene found us and was exasperated from looking all over for us to bring us into the Italian restaurant. Lisa was instinctively opposed to it, but I pushed for it. I believed that it would be quiet and cool; we could regroup. I desperately needed to regroup! The restaurant was hotter than outside and the AC was on. We sat down and tried to focus on the menu, but the couple next to us kept throwing me off. They were someone’s grandparents. They bought someone socks for Christmas. They were at Hedo. I didn’t get it. I tried to absorb it all, process it, but I couldn’t.

“I don’t want ravioli,” whispered Lisa.

“Listen, Sharlene ordered it for us so let’s just split it and go outside,” I suggested.

Lisa tried to play along, but we were sweating and the discomfort level was rising with the heat. A lot was going through our minds, yet weren’t able to articulate it. It’s like trying to have a conversation with the person sitting next to you on a roller coaster. Out of desperation and in an attempt to cool off, I removed my cover up, leaving myself more vulnerable as I sat there in a tight, lace nighty. Looking around, I told myself that I wasn’t standing out by any means. If anything, I was overdressed for the occasion. I didn’t care. This is normal. I always go out for ravioli looking like a hooker. I am soooo cool with this.

Efforts to regroup were an epic failure so we moved on. The buffet was rockin’ and the tables were all full. Eventually, we found a table full of dirty glasses and a stained tablecloth. A lovely waitress came over with the smile of an angel. She cleared the table and allowed me to have a fresh tablecloth. I was optimistic that this was going to get better; all I needed to do was relax and go with it.

I surveyed the buffet, but all I wanted was to be at our home resort. I wanted to spend our last night with our new friends, in peace, feeling the safety and security that I had reveled in all week. Lisa ordered a stir fry, which took longer than my plate piling at the roast beef carving station and salad bar. I arrived back at our table before her and waited for what felt like an eternity for her to return. I looked at my food, but I couldn’t eat it because Anxiety is never hungry. I told myself it would be polite to wait for Lisa to return before I started eating.

When Lisa returned, she was in good spirits and highly amused by the crowd. She’d say, “Oh my God, three o’clock.” I’d look quickly and stiffly return to my full, untouched plate of food. I envied her ability to laugh at it all.

Sharlene found us and, for the second time in the evening, was dumbfounded by our disappearing act. “I came to your table and brought you bread.” We apologized and explained that it was too hot in there, but we would eat the ravioli out here. She understood and said she would bring it out to us.

I mouthed, “I’m not doing well.” Lisa was sweet and said I looked beautiful. I tried to take comfort in that. I sat there for a few minutes, pressed my hand on my belly, and tried to breathe. I asked how long we had to stay and Lisa said we had to stay a little while. The show was about to start soon and we should try to see some of it. I wanted to leave. I wanted to catch the buffet at SATP before it closed for the night. I couldn’t verbalize to Lisa that this wasn’t how I wanted to spend my last night of our trip because this was my idea, we paid a lot to get in, and well, this was my idea. I didn’t know what to do.

I sat there overcome with emotions and did what I oftentimes do in situations when I feel there is no out. I started to cry. Lisa took one look at me and said, “Let’s go.”

I dropped my napkin on my plate and headed toward the door without hesitation. We sat on the bench out front. If I can just regroup, I know I can do this. Lisa saw no reason to torture ourselves and she, too, wanted nothing more than to go back to our buffet, to sit at our table, and to talk to our friends. We got our wrist bands cut off and the staff seemed surprised that we were leaving so soon. Without explanation, we simply got a cab back to SATP. Thankfully, Lisa was in her right mind and stopped the taxi driver before he hit the road. He threw it into reverse and we went back to the lobby to get our drivers licenses. While I was there, I ditched Anxiety and left him there to party since he liked it so much.

A few days later, my boardy friend said that Sharlene was heartbroken when she returned to our table with a plate full of ravioli, only to find that we had disappeared again. For this, I felt awful.

When we arrived back at SATP, with my cover up back on and the temperature and vibes much cooler, we enjoyed Italian night tremendously. It was good to be home. While it was an expensive lesson to learn, I was finally able to put my Hedo fantasy to bed. Pun intended.

** More posts and photos to come. Some names have been changed.