Saturday Morning Follies

The first morning is one of the best parts of Girls Weekend. (There are very few bad parts, actually. My favorite part seems to always be the current part.)

We wake up. Slowly. It usually starts with someone making a comment to the nothingness that is the dark, stillness of the room we are all packed into.

The snoring has stopped. Replaced by something that sounds like a yawn and the rubbing of one's eyes.

I am lying on my back and say, to no one in particular, "I think there may have been several minutes last night, in a row, where I was actually retarded."

Joy is apparently awake in the bed next to me (but not the snorer) and busts out laughing. "At least you didn't accidentally break dance!"

We both laugh and the snorer does too.

We are all awake. They are curious about John. Asking all kinds of questions. I am glad we are all lying there in the dark. They can not see that I'm beaming as I gush. I am trying to be cool but it is just not working. He's adorable. And he digs me.

I try not to dominate the conversation. Try not to be that girl that can not shut up about her shiny new crush. I refrain from working a cute little John story into every conversation.

But I want to.

But instead, we carry on as usual. We slowly get up. Slowly wash the black mascara smudges from under our eyes. Shake the sand from our shoes, (if we can find them) and brush our teeth. We need to look moderately presentable for breakfast. No one needs to do the walk of shame down the corridor and across the dining room. We place towels and magazines on lounge chairs in a strategic location on the pool deck. The sun is already glaring. We squint as we select the group of chairs and move them into a circle to optimize sunning and gossiping. We need to be near the pool but sufficiently far away from the baby pool and all of its noise and splashing. And no one wants to get the hairy eyeball from the young parents who don't appreciate a spicy story laced with a couple of F-bombs.

We also need to be reasonably close to the bar. Juuulia will need to be able to see us and get to us, and we need to be able to hear the musicians that start playing right around lunch time.

And a short walk to the room to use the loo. Peeing and fresh lip gloss are part of the routine.

We go into the dining room and are seated. Near the bar. No one is offended.

As we are about to sit, I glance across to the other side of the bar and think I see John and The Beave. I ask Joy if she thinks it's them. She does. We walk over. They have come to our hotel to get coffee before going to the beach (They are in a hotel across the street). We all say hello, and I am hoping I've given my appearance sufficient attention. We have a few laughs about the night before. Everyone is very cordial. I razz The Beave about drinking girly flavored coffee. Joy says we are holding Chris's shoes hostage. He left them at the pool near our chairs.

But there is nothing about the way John acts toward me that says he's really happy to have bumped into me (and frankly he could have planned to see me if he'd wanted to, not just hoped he'd bump into me. It wouldn't have been hard. He'd said goodnight just down the hall just a few hours before.) There is no kiss on the cheek, or private look. He doesn't squeeze my hand and say he'll see me later or even that he hopes to see me later. He doesn't ask what beach we'll be on. Joy volunteers that we'll be at the pool. I am a little miffed at the distance John is keeping but I keep up the good natured adorable act and razz The Beave a little more when he dribbles his coffee down his shirt.

"That'll teach ya to drink girly coffee, Buster Brown." He laughs. John laughs. They both turn without another word and walk away with the 4 coffees.

I'd better stop gushing about John. I think I'm about to make an ass of myself.