July 3rd in the No Shirt Section: A Second Perspective

July 3rd, 1998: I don't really remember a whole lot about it. I was 11 then. That morning, I remember waking up and seeing dolphins in the ocean (I had slept comfortably on a roll-away next to the balcony window) and I remember sea-shell collecting with mom and dad. I remember IHOP...vaguely....although having a large attention span has never been a strong point of mine. 20 minutes and 2 hours are pretty much interchangable in some cases. I do remember getting lost...several times. And I do remember the Chi-Chi's burning down, and the Mariachi band. I also remember that somehow in the maze that is Fredrick we found a NICER, CLEANER hotel...however we already had our reservations in the one night resort known as Fredrick Inn.

My other brother and I were most dissapointed with the closed pool; it was part of the "refurbishment" of the motel. The actual room didn't phase me too much; I remember it being "icky" and I remember that mom told us not to take our shoes off while we were walking around. In fact, mom made it pretty clear that if we wanted to live then we should not touch ANYTHING in the room. There were offers to sleep in the van, which I believe were taken with all seriousness.

While sleeping with mom and dad is super cool when you're like....five....being 11 it wasn't so nice. As previouly mentioned, there were 2 double beds. The boys took up one, and absolutely NO ONE would sleep on the suspicious looking stained floor. From what I understand, sleeping with me wasn't a treat for the parents either. I tend to like my space when I sleep, and my ever-patient parents slept on the edges of the bed while I apparently sprawled out in the middle. I remember sleeping well.

From the way dad tells it, the final crazy happening took place around 3:00 a.m while the rest of us were sleeping. Dad awoke to the sound of frantic banging on the room door.

BANG BANG BANG BANG! "STELLA! STELLA OPEN THIS GOD-DAMN DOOR!"

Dad, not sure what to do, slowly approached the door and looked out the peephole. Outside was, predictably, a large shirtless man.

"STELLA!" BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG "STELLA OPEN THE DOOR!"

The way dad tells it, he felt he was left with two choices; stay quiet and hope the irate, possibly drunken, shirtless man would leave or answer the door and risk getting beat up by a misunderstanding that this strange man was found in the same room as his beloved (?) Stella.

Fortunately, dad didn't have to think about it too long as he hears the man walk away and open a door down the hall. He figures Stella woke up a few rooms down, opened their room door and leaned out and probably said something along the lines of "You jackass! Get over here!"

Reflecting on this rendition of dad's story, a story that actually could only be told by the man himself, I wonder if maybe dad shouldn't invest in starting his own blog...or at least becoming a regular contributor to Prairie Traveler.