Life's a beach

It took us a while to figure out — it had been about five years since my wife and I had taken a weekend for just the two of us.
Time flies when you’re knee-deep in diapers.
True, most years we make a pilgrimage back to Alabama for a football game sans kids, but I think most people would agree that a weekend at a fraternity house does not constitute a romantic getaway.
The maid of honor at our wedding was getting married in Hilton Head, and we saw this as a perfect time to enjoy a weekend at the beach.
The wedding was going to be a small affair, with dinner Friday night and the wedding Saturday night, so we would have much of the daytime to spend doing things that did not involve finding a restaurant with a playground.
The wedding itself was to be at a very nice resort right on the beach.
I had made reservations several months prior, at a hotel I was told was “next door.” Apparently, I should have asked for them to be more specific, because “next door” was about a mile away.
Two days before we left, this came to our attention. Actually, it came to my attention via this message from my wife: “Do you know how far away we’re staying from the wedding?”
By her tone, I was fairly certain that she was not actually looking for a measurement.
Instead, I opted for the counter argument of telling her that the rooms at the resort were way more expensive. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. After all, why splurge a little since we get to go out of town every five whole years.”
Clearly, I had some work to do.
So I called the resort and spoke to a very nice woman in Texas named Lisa.
I know she was in Texas because I asked her. I always enjoy hearing someone cheerily answer the phone, tell me her name is something like “Janeane,” and then having her confess that she, in fact, was in New Dehli. I don’t have a problem with call centers being stationed overseas. I just always find it humorous.
So Lisa asked what she could do for me. I laid it out for her in plain terms: “I’m in the doghouse. We’re going to a wedding in Hilton Head, and I tried to book a room on the cheap. My wife is not very happy with me.”
Lisa told me that they did have rooms, but the wedding rate deadline had passed. I asked how much the rate would be. Way more than twice our current reservation rate at the Walk-a-Ways Inn.
I sighed. I was ready to bite the bullet when I figured it was worth asking: “Are there any rate discounts you might be able to give me? I am both cheap and in the doghouse, which presents a rather difficult dilemma.”
I heard her pecking away on her keyboard. “Let’s see.” Peck, peck, peck. When she came back with a new rate, I asked her to repeat it. Indeed, it was only a few bucks more than our current reservation.
She asked me if we wanted a king size or two queens. I told her that I felt confident a king would suffice.
Showing she had a good sense of humor, she told me that, as a precaution, she would have extra blankets sent to the room in case I needed to use the floor.
When we got into Hilton Head, we checked into our room and found that Lisa had done us right — we had a nice big balcony, overlooking the pool area and the ocean.
The dinner that night was nice, a cookout on a deck overlooking the ocean during which my wife got to catch up with lots of friends from high school.
That night, we both went to sleep looking forward to sleeping in as late as we possibly could. No alarms, no atomic elbow drops from a flying 4-year-old.
And cue 7 a.m. Apparently, we can’t sleep in like we used to.
After a nice breakfast (again, by the beach), we headed out to go shopping in Hilton Head. We went to Harbour Town and found that the Hilton Head approach to stores is to (a) make them as small as possible (b) fill them with as much merchandise as possible and (c) encourage people who like to stand still for 10-12 minutes at a time to block the entranceways.
I’m all for quaint, but I have no desire to be blocked in a tiny, round store just so that I get my son a shirt with an alligator on it.
The wedding itself was on the beach and was a beautiful and scenic affair. Another wedding had ended a while earlier and was holding their reception at a nearby pavilion.
It was a touching scene to see the bride and groom exchange rings as “Macarena” blared from next door.
After the reception, my wife and I concluded the evening in the most perfect way possible — we sat on our balcony overlooking the ocean for a while, and then retired inside and fell asleep to the soothing sounds of South Florida beating Auburn in overtime.
It was a well deserved and relaxing vacation, although we both were ready to get back to the kids by Sunday.
I think it’s important that couples on occasion take time for themselves. I can’t wait to do it again in 2012.