Chris Rock once sternly reminded everyone, “oh, there will be champagne in the Champagne Room, but absolutely no sex.” I have found that Mr. Rock’s altruism is really a metaphor for taking the whole family away on vacation and bunking in outrageously tight quarters. Because with 5 people, 1 room, 2 double beds and a cot…there will be absolutely no sex in the Holiday Inn Express.
The reality is that you can’t think of sex or ever remotely act on it when the kids are jumping on the next bed watching “High School Musical” for the 64th time. Such is life and you will take a quick hug and kiss on the cheek amid the whining, fighting and 2 out of 3 children randomly vomiting from either the excitement and fatigue of a long day skiing or the intense sugar rush from eating a 2 pound bag of m&ms. Despite the lame attempts at scheming by your husband, there are no chance trysts in the 5x5 bathroom, no under-the-covers "special" massages, only veiled and thinly veiled innuendo on the chairlift.
At last, you try to steal a few quiet moments together watching the Weather Channel on the lobby TV with warm coffee and stale bagels from the free breakfast buffet – the kids back in the room, 5 minutes into the 65th viewing of HSM. You both sit back and begin to enjoy a conversation that does not include the mediation of an argument, reference to Spongebob, or negotiation of any sort. That is when the creepy trucker at the table across from you kills the mood by first trying to get your attention, then announcing to no one in particular, “Woo daddy! Hey there, hmm, looks like Ohio is going to really get hammered today with all that snow.” Good times…yeah…good times.
The reality is that you can’t think of sex or ever remotely act on it when the kids are jumping on the next bed watching “High School Musical” for the 64th time. Such is life and you will take a quick hug and kiss on the cheek amid the whining, fighting and 2 out of 3 children randomly vomiting from either the excitement and fatigue of a long day skiing or the intense sugar rush from eating a 2 pound bag of m&ms. Despite the lame attempts at scheming by your husband, there are no chance trysts in the 5x5 bathroom, no under-the-covers "special" massages, only veiled and thinly veiled innuendo on the chairlift.
At last, you try to steal a few quiet moments together watching the Weather Channel on the lobby TV with warm coffee and stale bagels from the free breakfast buffet – the kids back in the room, 5 minutes into the 65th viewing of HSM. You both sit back and begin to enjoy a conversation that does not include the mediation of an argument, reference to Spongebob, or negotiation of any sort. That is when the creepy trucker at the table across from you kills the mood by first trying to get your attention, then announcing to no one in particular, “Woo daddy! Hey there, hmm, looks like Ohio is going to really get hammered today with all that snow.” Good times…yeah…good times.
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