Baby Got Back

The walk was as enlightening as it was refreshing. We all learned a little more about each other. The desert will do that to you.

We decide to delay going to the pool in favor of lunch at one of the places that has become a fan favorite since our first having visited. The veterans are jonesing for a few house favorites and the newbies are anxious to see what we are so excited about.

We are a little dusty and a little more weathered than we'd like, but nothing a little lipstick can't fix. We are getting presentable when Candy presents a challenge to her sister.

"Dare me to walk in like this?"

I turn to find that Candy has jammed the both legs of her shorts up into her bikini line in the front, turning it, well, into a bikini.

But that is only half the story. She turns to reveal that the backs of the legs of her shorts have been similarly jammed up between her butt cheeks, which were completely exposed. Again.

With her full pouty Penelope Pitstop pink lipstick and jewelry, this is a sight to behold. She intends to walk right into the restaurant, and ask with the utmost seriousness, for a table for 7. I imagine her being told, however tentatively, "Follow me, " and letting us all file in behind the hostess while she quite literally brings up the rear, and has a dining room full of restaurant patrons reaching into their breast pockets for glycerin pills.

As funny as this is, I am starving. I suggest she reconsider since we do actually want to eat at this restaurant and not be forcibly removed from it. But this really is too funny not to do.

In the end, no pun intended, she unwads the front of the shorts from her crotch, and then jams only one leg of the back of the shorts into her butt crack so it really does look like an accident. And it will create all manner of Candid Camera moments as we walk through the pavilion, asking unsuspecting and nearly speechless passersby for recommendations for where to go later that night.

And so, we are seated by a humorless waitress who rebuffs our attempts to be her favorite, albeit most demanding, table. (She must not have realized that we are big tippers.) And at some point between the nachos and the salads, and in among the stories and the razzing, the texts began arriving from our friends, rehashing episodes from the night before according to their unique perspective, and of course, enticing us to come out and play again.

And this, friends, is probably my second favorite part of the trip.