Like Fonzie...

As most who read this here BLOG know, I'm 37. I don't feel 37. Don't think I look, or act, 37. Not that being 37 is bad. I think of 37 the way I did as a 21 year old - at 37 a person is heading down hill toward the big 40! Fast. Gaining speed. Middle age up ahead - Population me! Be that as it may, if you asked me if I was still cool (like Fonzie, not like Dazed and Confused) I felt the answer would be a resounding correctamundo. I thought myself fairly hip in a thirtysomething sort of way. Or so I thought until my lovely bride and I decided to check out of suburbia by checking into Hotel ZaZa in the tony Uptown area of Dallas. Granny and Pops (read: Jerr and Joyce Tinsley) came up to do Boy(s) Patrol - and we were off for two nights sans Boy(s). It wasn't a lot of time, and paled in comparison to our original plan (Northern California Wine Country Trip,) but two nights with no bath duty, diaper changing, kiddy spoons, bottles, etc. sounded pretty damn good.

We got off to a bumpy start by experiencing some typical Friday afternoon Dallas rush hour. I guess the traffic gods wanted us to think we were traveling farther than we actually were since the 15 minute drive turned into 60. By the time we hit Uptown, I was uptight.

First clue we were in coolsville happened at check in, when we got what I perceived as insouciance from the trendy front desk person. At first, dressed all in black, he was warm, and friendly - sunny.

"Hello Sir, Welcome to Hotel ZaZa".

I gave him our name and he did the rat-a-tat-tat on his computer. As our booking info came up on the screen his sunny disposition turned partly cloudy.

"Oh. You booked through Hotels.com."

I was still tense from the beating of a drive and had to fight the temptation to grab him by his perfectly coifed hair. Hell, If life were like the movies, I would have said, "Don't push me, I'm damn close to the edge!" Alas, it is not, and I just gave him a wordless nod and prayed that we wouldn't be in the custodian suite.

A few taps on his keyboard and he handed over our keys (which are now cards, but they still call them keys) and our 48 hour passport to Coolsville (more on that later.) Juan whisked over at the ready to take us upstairs. I soon realize that my custodian suite worry was, as usual, unfounded. I doubt there is a bad room in ZaZa. Juan led us into our room which looked stellar to me, and started unloading our bags when the wife took issue with the room. It only had a jungle shower, no bath. She wanted a full on bath. She got on the blower and called (I'm assuming trendoid) the front desk who quickly moved us to another room on the same floor that had a bath, shower, etc. Very nice. Make no mistake from my wiseass ramblings, Hotel ZaZa is NICE. I highly recommend it in spite of whatever fun I might make at its expense. Actually my expense, since it is EXPENSIVE! Trendoid can give me all the shit he like, I payed 50% less through Hotels.com than I would have if I had booked direct to ZaZa. Juan quickly hooked us up with the new room and even went downstairs to get our new cards (keys). As he handed them over, I had my usual, oh shit, what do I tip internal dialogue. I hate to tip. Not that I hate to let go of the money, its more about not knowing the appropriate amount to tip. I probably end up over tipping in an effort to look like I know what I'm doing, thus making it perfectly clear that I in fact don't. It is pretty messed up actually, the amount of stress I put myself through over something so silly as a tip for Juan the bellboy. I tipped him ($5) and Juan wished us a nice stay, and closed the door (temporarily) on our suburbian lifestyle. Vacation! We were both silent As we stood in the middle of Coolsville, taking in the nice room, and thinking of the long weekend that lay ahead. After a few moments of thoughtful reflection, still silent, I started to think (and I'd bet you a sixer my Lovely Bride was too):

Now what?

Until I BLOG again...Part II