This weekend, Carl and I spent a night in Little Rock to celebrate our 3-year anniversary. I know, I know, Little Rock isn't exactly somewhere tropical or exotic, but it was fun to get away. We shopped, ate, and went to a small Blues concert. (Carl endured shopping for my sake, so I went to a Blues show for him) It's all about give and take, right? As we were walking down to the show that night, we saw many "suspicous looking" characters. I was prepared because after riding down the elevator of our hotel with some strange guys, I stopped by the car to get my mase. I kept that bottle in hand the whole walk. You can tell I don't get out much at night. So Carl and I, hand-in-hand (my other hand was firmly gripping my mase) trucked through the chilly rain, umbrella-less, all the way from the Doubletree to the end of the Rivermarket to see our show. One or two blocks in and I was regretting my decision to wear heels. The show started at 9:00, which was already a red flag for me. I'm a girl who is used to having make-up off and jammies on by this time each night. So, I wasn't so sure how long I would make it. We had to sit right next to the speakers, which was...loud, and right across from a 50 + year old roadie who follows the band everywhere they go. He kept giving them the "Your number 1" hand symbol every few seconds and yelling and nodding "yeah, yeah..." the entire time. The music was actually really good, but by about 11:00 it was past my bedtime. Carl knew I was sleepy so we made the long, rainy walk back to our hotel. On our way back we came upon many weirdos and even witnessed the aftermath of what must have been some kind of fight because a store window was shattered and a guy's arm was a bloody mess. See, I knew it was smart to have my mase in hand...even though my husband felt a little offended that I thought he couldn't protect me! I was so glad to get inside our safe, warm hotel. Even though I like to think I am a wannabe city girl and that I would love to live somewhere with lights and excitement like New York, I must face reality: I am a small town girl who feels out of place with anything very much out of the ordinary and loves the comfort of home.
I can remember 2 years ago, Carl and I went to California for our one-year anniversary. We made it a long road trip and drove to San Diego, Los Angelos, and San Francisco. San Francisco was the scariest, nastiest place I've ever been. We pricelined our hotel and ended up with one right in downtown which is probably the worst place in the whole city. Our hotel didn't even have parking so we had to walk several blocks from a parking garage, at night, with all our luggage, to get there. The hotel was straight out of a horror movie complete with weird wallpaper, old-school oscillating fan, musty smell, oval mirror on the wall, and creaky floors. I barely slept a wink. I didn't even want to put my feet under the covers. We got up bright and early the next morning because we were ready to get out of that Norman Bates-ish hotel. We trudged with our bags all the way to the parking garage, passing homeless person after homeless person, asking for money. Some even just muttering strange slurs under their breath. We got to the garage and found that the gates didn't open for another hour. The entrance was in sort of a "shady" looking alley, so we decided it wasn't the best place to stand. So, again with all our luggage, we trudged back down the street until we came to a gas station. I went in to get coffee while Carl guarded our luggage. I say "guarded" because it would've been snatched in 2 seconds flat if we'd left it. We stood there outside, drinking our coffee and clenching our bags, as several people dug through the trash right beside us. You haven't lived until you've stood with a bright pink suitcase drinking coffee and eating breakfast next to people digging through the trash. It was an eye-opening experience and it made me appreciate our cozy little town of Russellville.
Our overnight anniversary stay was fun but one of the best parts was getting home to our sweet, sick, little baby. We got home to find that Cale has the signs of pinkeye,and possibly an ear infection. As I write this at 9:23 pm, he's already woken up crying three times (since 7:30). This is going to be one long night.
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