#ellengriswold, #griswoldfamilyvacation, #schrodingerselevator, #thesecantbemychildren
We started our vacation today…after a lovely dinner in Roanoke Rapids, we reached the James River ferry. We had not known about the ferry, but who doesn’t love a ferry ride on a balmy summer night? Apparently, my children!
About 30 seconds after my 8 year old commenced a panic attack while awaiting the ferry’s arrival, I came to the startling and altogether disorienting realization that my children had been switched at birth with ones who have an irrational fear of boats. BOATS, people! These humans
(if they in fact be human), cannot possibly share my DNA and at the same time fear boats. I literally cannot comprehend such an idea.
My husband very skillfully executed a 83 point turn on the narrow bridge leading to the ferry terminal and forged ahead by land.
An hour later, having crossed a draw bridge with only minor whimpering from the girls, and having achieved the eastern shore of the river, we found that the road to the south was closed. A minor 26 mile detour to the east was all that was needed.
As we were in East Dogpatch, there was no cell service, so no GPS and no triangulation….
Fortunately, my intrepid husband “Clark Griswold” managed to keep us on track, arriving at our hotel just shy of two hours later than anticipated.
Let me pause to say this: the hotels where we are staying are very graciously being supplied by my parent’s Wyndham Club membership, and are costing us nothing. We are VERY grateful for this opportunity, and I do not want anyone to infer otherwise. Please understand that any comments about the hotels are meant to reflect only on the hotels, not my parents or their generosity!
Upon checking in, I learn by eavesdropping on the man in front of me in line that the elevator has only moments before resumed functioning. I am happy for this news when I learn that our room is on the third floor.
The room is small but tidy. As I enter the bathroom to brush my teeth, I see there are 3 inches of water in the tub, and the stopper is engaged. I reached down to open the drain just as I realized WHY it was so. The shower head is dripping. Continuously. Water droplets make a much softer “plop” sound when landing in a tub full of water than they do crashing into an empty tub with a “plinking” sound.
Bedraggled and sweaty, I schlep back down to the front desk. The nice young man who checked me in smiles politely.
“Hi.” I say, sighing. “I am Ellen Griswold in 344.”
Despite his youth, he laughs knowingly.
“I was wondering if, in the morning, we could be moved to a room which does not possess a continuously dripping shower?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll make a note. Check back in the morning.”
I smiley appreciatively and begin to thank him, but before I can form the words, the door to the Rusty Musket Tavern adjoining the lobby is flung open and strains of Alanis Morrisette’s “Ironic” in the key of F flat minor assault our senses.
“It’s like 10,000 spoons, when all you need is a knife…”
My eyes meet those of the desk clerk and we start to laugh inappropriately loudly.
“Goodnight Mrs. Griswold”, he smiles.
“Nite”, I laugh as I wave and head back towards Schrodinger’s Elevator, and what I can only hope is an uneventful night’s sleep