What really happens in fancy hotels

by Elaine

365 | 28 | Union Station

My Mister did a gig up at the Beverly Hilton this last week and on Friday I found someone to take the kids overnight so I could ride the train North to join him in LA.  I happen to love the train.  If we had better infrastructure around the train lines in Southern California, I’d take the damn things everywhere.  Even the train stations are sexy, as evidenced by my quick capture of Union Station, one of the sexiest of the bunch.  Of course, getting from Union Station to Beverly Hills was ridiculous (lack of infrastructure, indeed).  And riding the metro in LA left me wondering why, WHY! would any self-respecting teenager feather his hair?  The 80’s style had few redeeming qualities and I promise you that feathered hair was NOT one of them.  It was all I could do not to take a photo of this kid, show it to him and then demand an explanation.

But I digress.

I did, after all, promise to tell you what really happens in fancy hotels.

Once we finally found each other and, due to LA traffic, missed our drinks date with a local friend from college, the Mister and I took ourselves out for sushi.  Then back to the hotel to check on the concert (The Spazmatics, who were doing 80’s cover music without anyone on keys… seriously) and then up to our room where we… promptly fell asleep.  I think my rocking 20’s are over.

The next morning?  After sleeping in we did this:

365 | 29 | bed Jumping

Which is really the only reasonable thing to do in a fancy hotel.

AND it also brings me back to my last blog post and my question of, “In what kind of moment do you feel most alive?” which none of you answered.  So I’ll answer it for myself.

While I adore being a mother, a wife, an artist, a daughter, etc, I cherish those moments where I get to be reminded about who I am, disconnected from attachments.  Spending time watching the ocean slip by from the window of a train or jumping on a bed in a fancy hotel helps me reconnect those lost bits of self I put away when trying to be responsible.  Before I had kids, time alone wasn’t something I looked for in my week.  Now, it’s all I want.  And this weekend, I got a little bit of it in my uber-short trip to LA.  But connecting with myself? That makes me feel alive.

Now that I shared, anyone else want to?

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