Not in a Party Mood

My son Bob, who is my housemate, is a party kind of guy. He loves to be a host, to have people over and to entertain them. Sometimes he has a LAN party. His buddies bring their computers and they all hang out in the game room for 2 or 3 days at a time, hunting down and blowing each other up in cyberspace. Sometimes Bob's local friends gather to play board games for an evening. When a friend comes from out of town, or there's a birthday, it's a good excuse for an impromptu get-together.

I enjoy all this. I've known all the "kids" since they were in school or 4-H together. I know their parents. I like them all. It's fun to wander out to the game room, say "hi" to them and hear what they're doing, then come back to the house and let them party on. Music and party noise doesn't bother me, I can sleep through anything. Well, almost anything.

Once in a while there is a really big party with people I don't know. They are all good people, but there is one subgroup that totally annoys me: The Squeaky Girls. They spend an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom. That would be the ONE bathroom in this house. You get to it by walking down the hall past my bedroom door.

The Squeaky Girls tippy-tap down the hall in their high heeled shoes. They travel in pairs and trios and while one is actually in the bathroom, the others stand in the hall right outside my door and giggle and talk in their ridiculously cute little voices about the stupidest stuff. They do this at least twice an hour. By 2 a.m. I've had my limit.

So when Bob warned me that he was having a Halloween party this past weekend and would be inviting people outside his usual group, I considered my alternatives. Bob volunteered to lock the house doors at 10 p.m. and suggest they use the porta-potties at the corn stand. That might have worked for the guys, but the girls and their shoes wouldn't have made it off the sidewalks.

Then I discovered that the Hampton Inn in Rancho Cordova, only 10 miles away, had a $68 special. (These are not my photos, they're from the Hampton's web site.)

When I travel, Hampton Inn is my first choice. The prices are reasonable, the beds are comfy, there is always decent, free internet, and a buffet breakfast with real food.

So I threw a few things in a bag, along with my laptop computer, and just before the party started I left.

I had dinner at a nice restaurant, then checked into the hotel.

First I turned on the TV. I haven't had one at home for 15 years, so it can be interesting and informative to surf through the channels and get an idea what the 99% of other people in the U.S. are doing with their time. It was a bad TV night. After the 9th political advertisement I turned off the TV in disgust. That's when I heard little feet running up and down the hallway outside my door, and squeaky little voices.

It turns out there was a baseball tournament of some kind in town and many teams had also taken advantage of the $68 special.

I really didn't mind. Some of my fondest memories are of traveling with bunches of kids to chicken shows and 4-H events. This was similar, the kids were running around having a great time with their friends. By 9 p.m. the adults rounded them up and put them in their rooms and all was quiet.

Sunday morning I was up early. I had the indoor pool all to myself for over an hour.

Then I got to have breakfast with two dozen little kids. I loved it.

When I got home at noon there were just a few party stragglers left. (Anyone who needs to is required to stay overnight.) They said they'd gone to bed fairly early because they just can't party like they used to. Some of them are almost 30, you know. Bob had scrambled a couple dozen eggs, cooked sausage, and served breakfast to those who could handle it. Most of the house had already been tidied. There were no Squeaky Girls left.

Overall, it was a good party, even for someone who wasn't in the mood for it.