Kansas City: Part One- Ugly Cry

Last weekend I tagged along on Ross's recruiting trip to Kansas City for several reasons.  The fact that the hotel was free and several meals were paid for was the most prevalent.  We don't/didn't have money for a vacation this year or an anniversary trip and decided this would be most perfect.  I was thrilled to have some time to myself while he was in meetings and some time with him when he wasn't.  I couldn't wait to lay out by the pool and read.  Two of my favorite things that I haven't done since before kids.  However, in typical Heather fashion, drama ensued as we arrived.

Wait...I will back up and say that I was super sad to leave these two angelpies.  I mean, look at them.

They were in their animal shirts geared up to go with Gammy.  Not one tear from them.  Not even Elise, who was screaming, "Gammy ride, Gammy ride."  All she cared about was getting in Mom's car.  That made it so much easier.  But, I was still a mess. 


Okay, back to the trip.  Here is my attitude on the way to KC.  Happy.  Anticipating a wonderful time.  Thankful for two and half hours of uninterrupted time to visit with Ross in the car.

THEN---A few minutes from the hotel, Ross tells me that he "recently" found out there is no pool.  I'M SORRY, DID YOU SAY NO POOL???  I PACKED FOUR BATHING SUITS AND I HAVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT LOUNGING BY THE POOL FOR DAYS. YOU ARE JUST NOW TELLING ME THIS???  Let me be frank for a moment.  This was one of those, I cannot stand you for not telling me this situations.  As in, I wanted to go home immediately.  As in, if you weren't driving, I would punch you.  (I do not condone spousal violence).  I tried to suck it up because I knew everyone we were meeting there would be in the lobby and I didn't want to be too melodramatic.  I try to keep the pyscho doctor's wife image to a minimum.

THEN, we pull up to the hotel (graciously paid for by Cox) and it is a piece of work.  A tiny historic little number in the middle of downtown and I instantly hate it.  Loathe it.  Ross said, lets see how the rooms look.  (The lobby was smaller than our master bedroom).  We go up to our room and Ross almost hits his head on the STUPID low ceiling.  As the door opens, I see a box of a room with a miniature double bed.  I am certain Ross's feet will hang off.  There is a small shower right next to a toilet.  The size of a freaking PORT A POTTY.  I fling open the curtains to look outside and make the room seem bigger and I am left staring at a concrete wall.


At this point, it is time for ugly cry.  You know the one.  The cry that doesn't even continue for the reason it started.  My sob session turned into me screaming that I missed my girls and I never even wanted to come on the trip and I hated the room.  Yep, laying on the bed in fetal position bawling my eyes out.  I scream about hating all things historic (truth) and loving huge, modern hotel rooms (truth) and screaming that I was tricked into this dreadful place. Tears of no pool and gross carpets and historic registry.  Gag.


I know this sounds ridiculous and that I sound like a horrible brat.  But, I just thought I would share anyway.  This is just life.  Ross very calmly suggests we get another room.  I pretend that I will feel bad that we are leaving the hotel where his coworkers are staying and then pretend that I don't want to look ungrateful. He reassures me that this is MY vacation and it is perfectly understandable that I want to stay somewhere where I am comfortable.  He calmly calls downstairs to see if it would be possible to cancel all three nights without a cancellation fee (yes).  He calmly calls to check out a normal hotel to see if they have a room available (yes).  And while my tears were still drying, my husband calmly escorted me to the most amazing room at the Sheraton I had ever seen.  I no longer want to punch him.  Only hug and kiss him and happy cry.


 Huge KING bed.  Massive room with a view of the city.  Pool to lounge at.  Chandeliers.  Top-notch workout room.  Walking distance to the mall and Panera.  And the Hallmark Museum. The crazy thing is that it was just a little more each night than Roach Inn.  It just wasn't "historic." 

 Part two is better.  There is no crying the remainder of the trip. And, I am less of a brat.  Promise.