We don’t get out much. With our busy social schedules at home (you know, little league, gymnastics, kiddie parties, returning things to Target) and our lack of funds (hello, our primary breadwinner is a public servant), our kids aren’t exactly familiar with exotic locales. Then, there’s Grandma and Grandpa Colorado who live in, get this, Colorado, so guess where all our summer vacations are spent.
Well, along came a super-cheap weekend getaway package to Palm Desert and we packed our bags quicker than you can say over-chlorinated public pool with rats in the palm trees. Fairfield Inn by Marriot. Whoop, whoop!
You may also know it, as C.J. does, as the place with two beds. Four years of life and never slept in a hotel room with two queen size beds. It blew his mind, really, and we had to allow a good 30 minutes for him to jump from one bed to the other and back again and again and again. While he did that, C.J.’s brother opened and closed the pimping mini-fridge and put my half-full Vitamin Water on the top shelf, then the bottom shelf, then in the door shelf. You’d of thought it was Christmas morning.
And, then we were off! A short driving tour of neighboring Palm Springs and C.J. discovered a city after his own heart.
“ANOTHER ONE!” he gasped.
“THERE’S ANOTHER ONE!” his face turning purple.
“Did you teach him that?” C.J.’s Dad asked me.
“How would I teach him that?” I replied. “They don’t exactly let the rainbow flags fly free in the O.C.”
“I just find it weird that of all the things to see in a new city, that is what he picks up on. What are the chances?” he said, giving me a doubting look.
“Maybe it’s like me being drawn to and liking the Tiffany-green Tiffany & Co. box upon first sight, without even knowing what it stood for. Some passions you just know and feel in your soul,” I reasoned. My husband dropped the subject, as he usually does when I mention Tiffany & Co.
In answer to your question, yes, as a matter fact, there was a continental breakfast. C.J. enjoyed a pink breakfast of waffles with strawberries on top and strawberry yogurt. To my boys, nothing compares to continental breakfast. Nothing.
We ventured to the Living Desert, which was ah-mazing. C.J.’s Dad paid for the VIP shuttle and we rode around in a golf cart while C.J. waved to other visitors like he was Kate Middleton on her wedding day. Later that day, we took the kids to the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway. They were so excited; C.J.’s brother for the right reasons, C.J. for the wrong reasons.
You see, C.J. thought that we said Ariel Tramway, not Aerial Tramway. He thought that he was going to see Ariel (a.k.a The Little Mermaid). He looked all over for her, bless his heart, but couldn’t find her. And, he started crying the saddest quiet tears. What would have been more perfect than a pink breakfast, rainbow flags and The Little Mermaid?
He cheered up as the tram ascended the mountain. Or so I’m told, since I didn’t go on the tram. You see, I don’t do well with closed spaces, heights, being at the mercy of someone else and my ears popping due to altitude. Oh, you have your hang-ups too, so please don’t judge. And, yes, I did consider taking a klonopin just to get myself up the damn mountain and experience it with my family, but that would have meant no margarita at Los Casuelas with dinner, so I let it be a cool “boys-only adventure.”
After dinner C.J. got the souvenir that has not left his head since our return to reality. A fuzzy Viking hat with long blonde braids attached. He takes the braids out, puts them in ponytails, wants braids again, flips the hair over his shoulder like Cher.
“I like my city,” C.J. said as we loaded into the car and started driving home on Sunday.
“A RAINBOW FLAG!” he yelled and pointed as we drove away from Palm Springs.
“ANOTHER ONE!” he screeched in delight, over and over again, until there were none.