On February 4th, we celebrated 17 years of wedded bliss. I can only imagine what an eternity this must seem like to Steve, given my ways and all. And for some reason, he gave me free reign in planning a little anniversary weekend getaway. For some time now, I've had a great curiousity concerning Bed & Breakfasts. I thought going to a stranger's home, and staying there, along with other strangers, sounded like a wonderfully horrific idea. So a week or so before the anniversary, I was googling B&Bs, looking for a good place to visit. Every single picture I saw online, totally freaked me out. From hideous wallpaper, to rooms filled with teddy bears, and lace, and doilies, and dolls, ... and GHOSTS, they all looked like my worst nightmare. Seriously, google haunted B&Bs. There's a whole website dedicated to it. Many of them proudly advertise their hauntedness.
Then I came across a place in the Poconos that was modern, beautiful, and non-ghost infested. They had a whole New Age/Zen vibe, and offered yoga, health-food breakfasts, and organic sheets. Now, if you don't know my husband, let me just say, Steve and some of the things I just mentioned go together about as well as chainsaws and tree huggers. But it looked awesome, so I booked it. And over the next several days, I would slowly break it to him how there was no tv in the rooms, no shoes allowed, breakfast at the same table with strangers, and a special departure ritual of some sort. But, it was within a stone's throw of a ski resort, so that's why he didn't kill me. Then 2 days before we left, Steve came down with some weird virus that covers you in hives. I might have been suspicious of this sudden onset of illness, but everybody knows you can't fake hives. (FYI- That was a joke. I would NEVER EVER question someone who says they're sick.) He said we could still go if I wanted to, but I really didn't want to take an itchy man to the Poconos.
The trouble was, we'd already given them our credit card info, and cancellations were not allowed within 10 days of the reservation. But I sent them this email: "We are scheduled to arrive on Friday, but my husband has come down with a contagious virus that causes your whole body to be covered in itchy, painful hives. I need to know what you want us to do. If we still have to pay, we're still coming." Within 5 minutes the lady called and said, "Don't come. You can have your money." So we rescheduled.
We decided to go to the Melting Pot for our anniversary, which was in downtown Philly. And Steve, of course, said we were taking my car, "Cherry Pie" because he doesn't like for his truck, "The Black Pearl" to go into the city because he remembers what happened on 4th of July when people were throwing icies at our car, and beer bottles were flying by our heads. He says it's just because traffic is bad and lanes are narrow. So it was $5 to cross the bridge, $30 to park, the meal, and the terror of downtown Philly. And let me just say, if I'd been driving in the traffic we encountered, I would have pulled over and started crying. If I'd been alone, I would have also called 9-1-1.
Once inside the restaurant, I wasn't happy with our table, and asked if we could have one of the "cozy tables" and they said you have to request the cozy tables when you make your reservation, but I didn't even know there were icky tables and cozy tables, until we were there. I explained how in Greenville, SC, all of the tables were cozy, so we'd never had to specify which one when making our reservation. So they did some checking, and managed to get us in to one of the good tables. Then they brought us some champagne, and we said we don't drink, so then they brought us sparkling apple juice, in a champagne flute, garnished with a strawberry, which looked exactly the same as the champagne, so I laughed about how people who love to spread rumors about our family missed the photo op of a lifetime. We'd been there 5 minutes, and had already been extremely high maintenance. They were super nice though, and when I didn't like the mushrooms inside the raviolis, they brought me some different ones. And I didn't even say I don't like gross mushrooms, but they sensed it. Steve says I make faces sometimes when I don't even realize I'm making faces.
So finally, last weekend, we made it to the Poconos. I think we drove straight up a mountain to get to the B&B, in darkness and rain, and once inside, we couldn't find any other human beings. So we just stood there, sock-footed, and waited for something to happen. And Steve chose that day to wear mismatched socks.. It was one of those eery moments where you think everyone's been killed, or all the humans of earth have disappeared or something. Finally a lady came out and showed us to our room. And then she was gone, and where she was now, was a mystery. Hours later I got thirsty and started wandering down the hall, to an upstairs fridge she'd told us about. I couldn't find any lights and I felt like a creep as I was standing right outside of someone's room, in total darkness. If they had opened their door, I'm sure I would have dropped dead. I could hear voices, and this was the first clue that there was other life inside the house. I looked inside the fridge, but there was no water, only soda. So then I told Steve I needed some bottled water from the truck, but I was too scared to go get it. So he had to get out of bed, put those mismatched socks back on, go downstairs, put on shoes, get the water, then remove his shoes once he was back inside. He happily did it because he's amazing.
Hours later, the sun was coming up over the mountain and I noticed you could see for miles down into the valley, and the Delaware River, from the large arched window. Some funny blue birds were frolicking in the trees, just outside. We got dressed as we nervously anticipated our breakfast with total strangers. It was something we had feared. We were sure, somehow, it would be very awkward.
So we quietly eased down the stairs and peeked around the corner, into the dining room. That morning, the conservative Baptist preacher and his crazy wife, sat down next to a male couple from NY, and had a lovely breakfast of puff pancakes with real maple syrup, mixed fruit, yogurt, and granola. No, the fruit wasn't on the pancakes. It was served in a glass with the yogurt and granola- sort of a parfait thing. And I think the B&B lady forced me to eat a second puff pancake. She was really a high pressure puff pancake-pusher.
And then I told Steve about the Labyrinth. The labyrinth was some stone formation that you walk through. It goes on in circles, nearly forever, until you reach the center. I think it's suppose to calm you, but I didn't find it very calming. I think it's because we made fun of it, and Steve wanted to cheat by crossing the lines the whole time. He said it was nothing more than "glorified pacing," which I have to agree is a pretty accurate assessment. We also had difficulty saying "labyrinth" so we made up a new name for it, which I'll just keep to myself. Sometimes when something bad happens, or if I'm very unusually nervous about something, I like to pace- while praying, or just totally freaking out. So an at-home labyrinth would be useful when that happens, but I think people would find it strange or think we have crop circles or something. And then we'd attract weird alien abduction people.
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| And this was the reward for completing the labyrinth. You could sit on this bench. |
We brought our skiis, but it was almost 60 degrees that day, and rainy. So we drove down to the river, and went on a little hike instead. There were signs about not feeding the bears so then I was really scared that bears were coming. I was noticing dry ears of corn that had been nibbled on, next to a cornfield. Then we saw a fresh poo. We couldn't help but wonder what had pooped on the trail just minutes earlier. And I picked up some corn for a free souvenir.
That night I wanted to go to a Thai restaurant that I'd read glowing reviews about. We'd never had Thai food because we'd never had a good place to go. The people at the B&B highly recommended this place. So we went, and when they opened at 5:30 for dinner, people were lined up at the door, and cars started whipping into the parking lot, and we almost didn't get a table! So we sat down and they brought some multicolored styrofoam looking things to the table and we weren't sure what they were for but then we heard people crunching so we realized it was edible. I think maybe they were some kind of blown up rice, but whatever it was, it was not tasty. Then Steve seemed to develop some anxiety, which I thought maybe was because he didn't do the Labyrinth right, but then, like an unskilled ventriloquist, he quietly said, "mmmnoook ooor yyrrr lt shurrdr." "What??" "Look over your left shoulder." Casually and slowly, I turned my head, pretending that I was admiring the artwork on the wall. And then it happened.. Now, I've heard of the "crack of dawn" but this was the "crack of I-just-lost-my-appetite." I'm not talking about pants that had slipped just a little below the equator. Inside that dimly lit Thai restaurant, there was a full moon shining brightly. This man, who's jeans had apparently lost an epic battle with gravity when he lowered himself into a seated position, was exposing his entire gluteus region to the whole room. And then we started quietly "cracking" jokes. So many questions came to my mind, "Doesn't he own a belt?", "Doesn't he feel a draft?", "Are we gonna be able to eat?" Because in the words of the late Whitney Houston, "Crack is whack."
After we left the Thai restaurant, Steve drove to a McDonald's drive thru for a double cheeseburger- a meat far more mysterious than anything he could have eaten at the Thai place.
That night we watched a movie in our room, because they had these big screen dvd players and movies you could bring into your room. Well they were actually tvs with built-in dvd players, but they just called them "dvd players" because I think maybe tvs were frowned upon. We snacked on cheesy popcorn and fudge we'd purchased that afternoon at a place called "Popcorn Buddha." I don't know what popcorn has to do with Buddha, but this seemed to be a recurring theme in this small, rural, mountain town. Steve couldn't believe I'd ordered popcorn coated in a greasy, orange, processed cheese powdery substance, but sometimes cravings just come out of nowhere. We were probably annoying, as we sampled nearly every fudge they had on display, except for the red velvet one, which looked delicious, but ever since I heard that red food dye is often made from bugs, I avoid it. I'm not kidding. Look it up.
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| Does this seem odd to anyone else? |
So we had a good time in the Poconos. What I liked most about the B&B is it didn't have that skeevy, germy feeling that you get at a hotel, and I could see the moon from my pillow. I liked their dog. Also, they decided to not make eggs, since I don't like them. What I disliked the most was the no shoe rule, shortage of washcloths, and the thermostat that controlled our room was located in the cold-natured guys' room down the hall. We slept with the windows open. I look forward to going back someday, and staying in the way better room I found while snooping. And hopefully we'll be able to skip out on the departure ritual, just like we did this time, since we had to leave very early. Because frankly, that sounded weird.
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| The B&B |
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| I sat at the yellow plate. Not that it matters to anyone. |
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| Window in our room. |
