I am sitting on a plane, waiting to take off for Liberia, Costa Rica and its already been an eventful trip. The fact that Joe and I had to fly in from Midland last night and spend the night in a hotel, an extra leg of a trip that will repeated on the way home, is the cost of living in Midland. The evening was quite entertaining as it turned out, as there was a SWAT convention at the inn. The place fairly reeked of testosterone, coming off of the muscular bald men that were everywhere. The shaved head thing must be a thing with them. Anyway, I’ve never seen so many big biceps, wide shoulders and narrow hips in one place, all decked out in camo. You could have decorated the cover of trashy romance novels for decades with that talent. I broke out in what I’m sure was a totally unrelated hot flash.
I just showed Joe my first paragraph. Him: “Are you sure it wasn’t my T you were sensing? I mean, I was standing right next to you.” Me: “I’m sure that’s it, King Never-Wrong.” (A name bestowed on him by our grand daughter, Preslee, which I use to mostly convey the exact opposite.)
I don’t know if it was all the eye candy in the lobby bar or the extremely hard seats on the flight from Midland, but when getting ready for bed I discovered that my butt pellets had tried to mount an escape. I should preface this by saying that I have had hormone pellets now for about nine months. You can feel them under the skin getting smaller with the passage of time. Anyhoo, I noticed that mine were all bruised and tender and felt ready to pop through the skin, which was alarmingly how I discovered that flying first class is a medical necessity for me. Instead of handicapped parking I need a first class flying permit. If that’s not a thing, it should be. Luckily, we got an upgrade.
Bright and early this morning, we met The Wards and the Sawyers at the Centurion Club and officially started our trip, as all good trips should start, with Bloody Mary’s. Now a couple of hours later, sitting on the plane, I’ve added a glass of champagne and a gin & tonic and it’s not even noon. This could be bad.
To say that this is the best house we’ve stayed in to date would be a gross understatement…and we’ve stayed at some phenomenal places. We were met on arrival by the cook and bartender with cool towels and a coconut drink served in real coconuts, which we needed because the drive up the mountain to get here was a white knuckle experience. When you step into the house you are immediately met with the most amazing view of the infinity pool overlooking the Pacific. I cannot believe we get to stay here. The tip we received from the house manager to shake our shoes out to check for scorpions gave me some pause, but what’s an adventure without a little danger?
It didn’t take long before the infinity pool was tried out and it became clear that the bartender, Misch, will have his job cut out for him keeping this group lubricated all week. He’s not dealing with amateurs here. Lest you think we are spoiled with a house manager, driver, cook, bartender, maid and security guard, I should point out that the bartender only works from 11am until 7pm, so we are on our own for breakfast cocktails.
And speaking of cooks, there is a kick ass espresso machine and continental breakfast laid out for the early risers, then later we have the real, or as I call it ‘second breakfast,’ served. Lunch and dinner (which always includes dessert) are also prepared by Alberto, as well as two snacks. I read once that it’s healthier to eat six meals a day. Just sayin’. Tonight’s menu was traditional Costa Rican fare, which included rice, beans, chicken, slaw and cooked plantains. I should have brought my yoga pants.
Dinner was followed by roundtable banter about previous trips. There was a lot of laughter and “remember whens.” This is our seventh trip together and that’s pretty awesome when you think about it.