My Pennsylvania Romance

To continue from yesterday...

Lake Wallenpaupack

Rod and I got up bright and early to head to the border. We left around 7 a.m. for an 8-hour drive to Lakeville, PA, home of Cove Haven Resort. This is supposedly "Where Love Lives".
     Traffic was good. You always get those people who pass you and then slow down. So, you pass them and then they speed up. Ten minutes later they pass you again, etc. etc. That's frigging annoying, isn't it? I just want people to use their goddamn cruise control.
     Anyway, we get to the border and we got a grouchy border patrol officer. I've never been unreasonably delayed at the border, but I always get a grouchy one in one direction and a friendly one in the other. This guy was all "I hate my life" and "What's your citizenship?", "Where are you going?", "How are you related?", "What do you do for a living?" I don't know why they ask you this shit sometimes.
     Then he says, "Why are you going to the Poconos?", which would be a normal question except that he scrunched up his nose at the mere idea of going to northeast Pennsylvania. He asked it in the same way he might ask, "Why are you putting maple syrup on those mashed potatoes?"
     Well, I wanted to take all the credit. I told him how we were going to rent a room with a 7-foot champagne glass-shaped whirlpool tub, a swimming pool, a massage table and a sauna. I stopped short of telling him all the sexual positions I was going to try because he dismissed me with a grimace and a wave of his hand. I think he must have just broken up with his wife or something 'cos he looked like he wanted to barf.
     As we drove away, Rod said he wanted to say we were going to the Poconos "to see the fucking NASCAR race and we want a good seat." But, I wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise.
     Somewhere in the south end of New York, we stopped to pick up a box o' logs for the fireplace, a bag o' pizza-flavoured Combos, some razors and some lube. We also stopped at Sonic so I could share the experience of eating at a traditional drive-in, fast food joint with Rod. He had never been. For those of you who haven't been before, everything they make there is deep fried and covered with meat AND cheese. The only thing I can eat are the Ched'R Poppers. Rod got a chili cheese dog.
     With the first bite, I watched him struggling like a dog who has peanut butter on the roof of its mouth. Turns out, the cheese sauce is unnaturally gummy and could prolly be used to attach dentures. Rod is not a Sonic fan.
     Two hours later, we are driving down a narrow, hilly road with a speed-limit of 55 mph looking for the resort. We finally see a monstrous sign in the middle of a field that directs us to turn onto an even more narrow, bumpy road with another sign. This one was the size of a small election sign in pink and white that said, "Lovers turn here". We almost missed it. Just a few minutes down, we turned in to the resort where they have a snow machine making a 400 metre oval track of snow for the snowmobiles.
     "Oh my fuck," Rodney said, laughing hysterically. All we could think of  was how he and his redneck friends would get on one of those sleds, hang the skis and tear that patch of snow down to the grass in one lap.
     Now, I was very nervous about booking this resort because I had read the reviews on TripAdvisor and heard that the place was "cheesy", "dated", "run down" and downright "dirty". So, when I saw the snowmobiling available, I was a little concerned. But, we checked in anyway and headed to our room.

     "Oh my fuck!" I screamed when I opened the door to our suite. I was jumping up and down like a kid at Chuck E. Cheese. The first thing I noticed was the clean smell of freshly steamed carpets and cleaning supplies. I ran to all of the four levels to check out the tub, the mirrored ceiling, the round, king-sized bed, the heat lamps, the twinkling lights above the bed and the whirlpool... I almost knocked Rodney over trying to get from room to room while he brought in the luggage.
     I had died and gone to romance heaven. I was so happy, I wanted to run down to the front desk and kiss them. Instead I kissed Rodney, which was much more exciting. The next thing I know, we're making out in the heart-shaped pool, making out by the fireplace, and making out in the bathroom while the champagne hot tub fills up.
     It was one of those scenes from a RomCom, in which the couple is swept away with passion, knocking lamps off of the side tables, tripping over each other's arms and legs, knocking someone's head off the side of the pool... pure hormonal fire! At one point, between the champagne tub and the ultra-plush bed, I completely lost Rodney. Turns out, the heat was too much for him. He stood up in the bubbling, hot water and got a head rush, almost falling backwards over the edge of the 7-foot tub! Can you imagine?! What if I had to call for an ambulance to come get my naked and broken husband off the floor? And, me with a concussion from hitting my head off the ceramic tile. After that, we decided we'd better take it easy.
     It had started to freeze rain as we headed to dinner. Our room was located at the top of a steep hill on the northeast end of the resort from the dining room. We walked anyway just to get some cool air and clear our heads. The meals are all inclusive and all-you-can-eat and we were famished. They also have a photographer on-site to take pictures of all the loving couples. Well, I wasn't falling for that gimmick. They take your picture and then they want to charge you $25 for one 4x6 like they do at Canada's Wonderland. Frig that! I'll take my own damn pictures. So, when the photographer came around, I just told him my face wasn't ready for photos. He looked at me like I was on a day pass from the cuckoo nest.
     The rest of the staff had speech impediments, which were really funny to hear in real life. It was just their New York or New Jersey accents, but whenever we heard the server ask, "Kin I gitch yas somethin' from the bah?", it made us pee our pants.
     Dessert was also all-you-can-eat and I wasn't letting anything go to waste. I got soft serve ice cream so I could put on all the toppings at the sundae bar. There was chocolate chips, Reese's Pieces, white chocolate, hot fudge, hot caramel, all kinds of fruit, nuts in brown sugar sauce and candied sprinkles. I was so excited, I was eating my hot caramel in chunks with my fingers on the way back to our table. Rod was too embarassed to be seen with me, but he laughed anyway.
     The next day, we were playing some friendly ping pong at the sports hall when we got signed up for an air hockey competition against another couple. She was pregnant with twins - due in April and already the size of a medicine ball - and he was a 6-foot gangster type guy. Nice people. Rodney felt bad for KICKING THEIR ASSES. Muahahaha. We got a couple of Cove Haven medallions for winning and Rodney wanted to give his to the losers. I tried to explain it's not the same if you don't win.

We are the champions, my friends!

     Karma came back to get me, though. We took out some tennis rackets and balls for the indoor courts and Rodney told the attendant he was gonna beat me over the head with the racket for being mouthy. She laughed kind of nervously, not sure whether he was joking or not, but she gave us the rackets anyway... after we signed a waiver. Sure enough, we had knocked a few balls across the court when I "pulled a Sherla" and tried to return the ball with my face? My top AND bottom lip were puffy and my nose was bleeding a bit when we returned the rackets. Rod says, "See? I told you she was gonna get it!" Good thing we were laughing uncontrollably or she might have called in a domestic.
     I tried to win the Sexual Trivia games for more medallions, but we sucked hardcore. The winning team had 19 out of 24 questions right. We were the bottom of the pile with only 9 out of 24. I also wanted to stay up for the karaoke at Cupid's Corner, but we had been going to bed, totally spent, at 7:30 p.m.
     So, there we were the night before we have to go home. We are stuffed like pigs from the unending food. My butt is sore from walking up and down the steep hill to our room. I have a headache and a goose egg on the back of my skull. My lips are puffy, my nose is bleeding and the muscles in my shoulders are sore from playing tennis for the first time in 25 years.
     I hadn't felt this good in forever! Can't wait to go back next January.

Friday the 13th Road Trip

I've been saving up since November 2010 for a little vacation, starting with a visit to my little girl in London and finishing with three days in the Poconos locked in the honeymoon suite with my beloved husband. Friday, January 13th seemed like an auspicious day to start out.
     About once every 7 years, I manage to convince Rodney to leave Prince Edward County. I like to say he's a bit like a Trillium (Ontario's provincial flower that takes about 7 years to recover from the blossom being picked). Not a big road trip fan, I guess. He insisted that we drive four hours straight through to London. But, he had to stop for a bathroom break and a fourth Tim Horton's coffee in Tillsonburg.
     Once back on the highway, he proceeded to not only pass a Woodstock Police Car doing a buck twenty, but he also did so while sipping his large two cream, one sugar. Living on the edge, Big Rod! Living on the edge.
     In London, we drove straight to my daughter's workplace for lunch. Spicy Tom Yum Soup and Cashew Tofu for me. Alex, who could not visit because she was working, told us it was a bad weekend for us to come because the London Police were investigating some biker related violence in the city. In her words, "Two strip bars and a "rub and tug" were set on fire." Welcome to the Forest City.
     When we arrived at Alex' apartment, I forgot that I hadn't told Rodney about her cat. He is not a cat lover - too much hair. As the first one through the door, I thought about hiding it on the balcony before he could see it. Just my luck, though, he was only two inches in the door when he noticed the cat litter in the closet.
     "Why is there a cat litter box in the closet?" he grimaced.
     "Oh, I forgot to tell you. She has a cat," I put on my brightest waitress smile. The one I use when the customer asks me if we have menus or if I know where the bathroom is. Ugh. I just give them my toothiest smile and say, "Nope. No menus. You just tell me what you feel like and I'll see if we've got it in the fridge back there." Or, "Nope. I don't know where the bathroom is. You'll have to use a pot in the basement just like the rest of us."
     My surprise came further into the apartment when I realized there was a bowl of dog food alongside the bowl of cat food. Turns out she has a dog, too!

Morgan Freeman - Rodney's favourite narrator

     We watched Shawshank Redemption in the afternoon. Rod says to me, "You know why this is such a good movie? 'Cos it has a narrator."
     I looked at him like he had suddenly grown another head. I said, "What the hell are you talking about? So, in your opinion, all a movie has to do to win an Oscar is hire a narrator?"
     "Morgan Freeman," he explained. "That motherfucker can talk to you about anything from penguins to popsicles and make it sound good." True enough.
     Yeah, Rod was full of hilarious, random comments (and early onset seniors moments) on our trip. Later that night, Alex was wearing her track pants while bending over her laundry basket, revealing her thong underwear. Appalled, her father felt the need to express his disapproval. "What's that hanging out? It's like knitting stuff!"
     "I think you mean 'yarn'," Alex replied with an exasperated sigh. She had already corrected him several times for referring to her friend as "Yen" when his name is actually "Juan". He also insists on changing "Adele" (who sings some of his favourite songs) with "Liddell" (as in, Chuck Liddell of UFC fame).
     Notwithstanding the strange language barrier, we enjoyed several games of Yahtzee and Connect Four with our favourite daughter.
     The next night, we were looking for another way to waste some time before heading south. At Yen's suggestion (I mean... "Juan's") we tried The Palasad for pizza and bowling. After our disaster at Big City Diner the night before*, Rod was concerned that the place looked a little seedy. But, we went in anyway and we were both glad we did. Really good, fresh salads followed by crispy, cheesy oven-fired pizza.

Canadian Pizza at The Palasad

     After dinner, we played 10-pin bowling. The Palasad plays a loop of tunes that reminded me of my days at the Tip of the Bay - the local bar where I spent 5 out of seven days a week during my early twenties. Naughty by Nature, Digital Underground and Young Emcee; all my favourite hip hop songs. There's something about music that tickles my brain and makes me so happy. Does that make me weird?
     Anyway, back to reality. We started a game of pool and I ordered the pan-fried brownie with pecans. I was all hopped up on endorphins from a couple of bowling strikes, some Human League and having my husband's undivided attention. Adding a little sugar would put me on a high that you just can't get legally. And, it was soooooo good. A hot, fudgy brownie topped with hot chocolate sauce and caramel pecans on vanilla ice cream. I took one bite and my face puckered up from the tooth ache. IT WAS AWESOME.
     Then, Rodney farted. I didn't hear it happen. I just walked around the pool table and walked into a wall of rotten broccoli and sour milk smell. I'm like, "Did you fart?" and he's like, "Yeah. I didn't think it would smell that bad." and I'm like, "Holy shit. You thought wrong." I had to use my pool cue to block the server from the contaminated side of the room.
     This is just a taste of the hilarity to come. We got on the road at 7 a.m. to head to the border and Rod never got road rage all the way to Lakeville, PA.

* Big City Diner has the potential to be good, but the night we were there, it was not. "Quebec cheese curds" turned out to be shredded mozzarella cheese and "Garlic-roasted beef dip" turned out to be a package of cold roast beef with a translucent slice of cheese.