To my five star love, you wrinkleless beauty…you’ve been away for so so long. Nobody knows how I’ve missed your embrace of luxe slippers and bamboo terry robes. The truth is…I’m crazy about you. Do you understand!? Allow me to open your blinds; Hawaii, Miami, New York, and Mexico or every other place we go….Do Not Disturb is the language. So hide the key, Baby. Because tonight there’s going to be an ice bucket challenge. Melting. Down. Your sides. It’s hot and you’re dripping wet. This is room service, and tomorrow…we’ll need extra towels. No doubt. I’m going all out. Because “Yes” is the only answer. We can take it slow, peek into your cabinets. Let my appetite do the talking through your expensive fabric. Knock. Knock. Knock. “Already!?”. Knock. Knock. Knock. “Damnit. Did they sprint up here or what?”. Knock. Knock. “Okay. I’m coming!”.
Enter Chapter 18 part 3: Château sans Gémissement
Remember the glory days of your hotel visits with your kid-free lover? The two of you disrespecting the entire suite with your passionate baby making skills. Knocking over lamps, ripping down the curtains, and laying your naked bodies across the kitchen counters. Or that one time you spent part of the night pressed against the wall making slow song beats, and your room neighbors kept asking, “Hey! Is everything okay over there!?” from their side of the partition door. Well parents, we’re sorry to tell you, that despite how these kid-friendly resorts accommodate for you…those days are long gone! Staying indoors for 3 days at a time like some sort of sexual vampires is a figment of your imagination. First of all, the only erecting Dad will be doing is setting up his newborn’s playpen; it’ll take over all the space of your foreplay dance floor. And secondly, the only people Mom will be servicing are her older kids with cold cut sandwiches; watching her slice salami for lunch will be an erotic fantasy killer. So, although it’s a hard pill to swallow, what we recommend to do at your next hotel visit is take advantage of the comfortable bed and sleep in it! Use the couch not as a prop in your sexcapades, but to sit in and watch a movie peacefully as your baby naps or your expert-swimming kids go for a splash down at the resort’s waterpark. Also don’t waste the expensive mini fridge water to cool your lover’s body down, but instead use it to drink because at the rate that you’ll be shedding tears over your sexual-hotel-lifestyle of yesteryear…your eyes and body will thank you. Now go! And enjoy your stay at Château sans Gémissement.
As soon as I answered the door, “Jesus Carl! What’s the rush? You left us down in the lobby with our bags.”, spoke the Queen. “I was just…just…forget it. I’ll get the bags.”, I told her. Both Kingston and Quinn came running in. One with their iPad blaring and the other wet-faced and sobbing. And with that, my private moment with our room met reality. Now, the hotel suite and I were once again as distant as a retired NBA player’s athletic ability and his youthful highlight reel. So I headed down to the lobby. Lugged our bags up, and did the only thing left to do…grab a cold beer, sit out on the balcony, and come to terms with reality. That while traveling with the kids my backboard-breaking-power-dribbling-slam-dunking-trash-talking Shaquille O’Neal sex game is done for. And with the kiddos around, I’m more of the Nickelodeon-Kids-Choice-Award-breakdancing Shaquille. And somehow I’ve got to learn to be okay with that.
Whoa Dad! 