Thursday, August 27, 2015

Should Have Gone to Quebec!

Way back in 2009 I had plans to meet Susan and Sylvia in Quebec City, Quebec.  Being so close to the Canadian border I was really looking forward to the road trip. Right prior to this trip, I had the chance to tag along with Roger on a business trip to Chicago. We were in Chicago for three nights and all was going swimmingly well.  Until, and I do say, until, my hormones kicked in, the result of a hysterectomy 6 months earlier.

To avoid taking HRT I did research and found a drug that relieved the wicked bad hot flashes and mellowed out the crazy train that resulted from a complete hysterectomy.  (Google "complete hysterectomy/horror stories" and you should find my picture. Yeah, it isn't pretty.) I had taken the drug only once or twice before this time and could really tell I needed to get things into check. This is one of those medications that 100% must be "taken as directed". Long 3rd-night-in-Chicago story short, our final night, I was a complete mess. Because of this I was utterly exhausted and backed out on my road trip to Quebec.

Don't worry, all the embarrassing personal moments were in the paragraphs above.

So now I found myself at home with a couple of days off and itching to go somewhere, and while Quebec City seemed a life-time away, as in 6 hours, I chose instead to go to Stowe, Vermont, by my lonesome, less than 4 hours away.

Off in my new Wrangler I went! What a stunning drive!  Up I-93 through the White Mountains I headed north, then angled west and cruised back south into Stowe where the Green Mountains begin. Stowe is a big-time skiers destination, but in August, it's rather tranquil and very scenic. I arrived at the Green Mountain Inn, checked in, and found my room tucked away on the 2nd floor near the back of the inn.

The first night I went to dinner nearby, then headed back to the inn.  As it was still a bit early, and my room was quaint (super-tiny) I decided to go to the quaint (super-tiny) restaurant/bar in the inn. Initially I chose a small table for two, and while waiting for a waiter, I noticed a couple standing at the bar with only one available seat. So I offered up my table and we swapped spots.

Here's where the trouble slowly eeked itself out. To my left was an older, seemingly innocuous, man. Above his head was the Redsox game, so I was continually looking his direction watching the game. A friendly conversation struck up and before long I gave him a business card with the website of this blog.  The card also contained my cell phone number and email address.  I had also shared with him that I lived in Massachusetts and drove a Wrangler and that I worked at Tufts.

It was becoming apparent that this gentleman had grander aspirations than a chat at the bar as he offered to pay for my beer, which I declined.  He stepped away to the restroom and I quickly paid my tab. Upon his return he offered to "see me to my room", which I then told him I chose my room in the safe confines of the inn to avoid being out at night time, so no escort was necessary, but thank you very much, and off to my room I went, followed by the locking of every lock I could find and placement of a chair in front of the door.

I awoke to a stunning day.  Off in my Wrangler I went to explore.  Cruised by the ski trails, visited the Von Trapp Family lodge, yes, those Von Trapps from the "Sound of Music" and overall had a glorious time  I returned to my room around 4:00. Then, my cellphone rang.

I didn't recognize the number, so I didn't answer, but a message was left, from my wanna-be-paramour from the previous evening. He wanted to meet me AFTER dinner for drinks. I dropped the phone like a hot potato! Then, my cellphone rang again, from a differnt number.  Again, a message was left, from the same man.  At this point I'm 100% spooked. So here it is 4:30 in the afternoon so I head down to the restaurant to see if I can get room service later in the evening.  Because of the small setup they couldn't accommodate me. Then, I started crying, telling the bartender who was young enough to be my son about the older man from the night before and his phone calls. The bartender was VERY sympathetic, however, his hands were tied.  So off I go to find an early-bird dinner so I could be back in my room well before dark.

After my meal I stopped at a convenience store and loaded up with wine, cheese, crackers and nuts to take back to the room, as I knew I was going to have many hours ahead of me holed up in my room on what was an otherwise beautiful evening. Back at the inn I settled in for my evening which ended up consisting of watching Ted Kennedy's wake on C-SPAN and the Miss America Pageant on another channel (worse cable channels in the history of hotels) alternating crying and laughing.  During this, Roger called, which I simply told him I was in for evening and enjoying my quaint (super-tiny, becoming hellish) room!

The next day I drove home on rain swept highways. Once home, Roger and I laid on our bed and I started crying and told him about the entire episode.  He laughed and laughed and laughed!

On a final note, no more phone calls were received on my cell, but sure as heck there was a voice-mail on my work phone when I returned on Monday.  Lesson learned!

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