Vacation: Our Accommodations

When we arrived in Branson, we did not have a reservation. HH told me not to get a room at the Grand Country Inn, the place with the world's largest banjo. It used to be a fiddle, methinks, but I could just be senile. Can I get confirmation on this, Diva? Not on my senility, on the fiddle. HH said we wouldn't have time to do anything there, and that it was too far from the Dixie Stampede. HELLO! You can see the Dixie Stampede when you pull out onto the road from Grand Country Inn. We bullied HH into pulling in there, and he and #1 son went in to see if they had a room. They came out and said it was $99. I said that was fine, I figured as much. I have been saving each week since Christmas, you know. And that place has the indoor water park and outdoor pool and the restaurant and mini-golf right there. So we wouldn't spend 30 minutes idling the Large SUV while waiting in traffic to go somewhere else. Anyhoo, I told him to decide, and he said he wasn't paying that much, and took off. The kids commenced to wailing, HH commenced to whining (and swearing and yelling), and after a short excursion where he almost was in 3 wrecks on Hwy 76 Country Music Boulevard (which it pains me to report were NOT his fault), we went right back to get the room.

The room was in building 3, which is the farthest away from the office and water park. We have stayed in that building before. It was fine with me. It was on the ground floor, on a corner, and we only had to park about 10 feet away, so it was easy to carry in the stuff. On the other hand, it did not receive the internet connection, even though #1 said he got it around back on our way to the room. He called the front desk, and they said he would have to go to the something room to get it. He said he was on it while we waited in the LSUV at the check-in, so he thought we could get it from the waterpark area.

Which brings us to the next bit of drama. The Water Park. By the time we got everything situated in the room, it was going on 2:00. HH announced that he was going to drive to Old Branson and check out some Bass Pro thingy. He asked the boys if they wanted to go with him. DUH! Water Park! Water Park! Water Park! was all that was dancing in their little noggins. HH acted insulted. He said, "I told you we wouldn't have time to go to the water park. We won't have time when I get back from Old Branson." Tender-hearted #2 son looked like he was going to erupt in tears. #1 just set his jaw and buried his face in his Lappy. I called #2 over and whispered that I would take them to the water park for an hour while HH was gone. Then we would still have time to get ready to go to the Dixie Stampede at 4:00, when it opened. HH seemed kind of put out, but left to go to Old Branson anyway. The boys changed in about 23 seconds, and #1 called the office for a trolley to ride us over to the water park. He likes calling the front desk about things. And service departments. He's a good little arguer. Anyhoo...the clerk told him the trolley was on the way. The last time, we walked. It was not fun, because that was in late July, and the temperature on that blacktop was near 102 degrees. (The boys love a trolley ride. They even get on the one at my doctor's office parking lot. Yes, that's uncommon, except that my doctor rents space in the clinic that goes with the hospital, so the trolley is really for the hospital, methinks. But they always ride it, and I walk, and usually beat them to the front door.)

We went outside to wait for the trolley. About 3 minutes later, it arrived. The driver looked about 18, with a mohawk stiff with hair gel. He was a friendly sort, and entertained us for the ride to the water park. On the way in, I asked the boys if they wanted in the outdoor pool, the kiddie one with the big frog-mouth miniature slide thingy. #2 said yes, #1 said no, so we went inside. Oh, and I forgot to mention that he took Lappy in a backpack, so that I could blog while they rode the lazy river. Water park. Laptop. Perhaps not a match made by the Gummi Mary. But it didn't matter, because when he fired up Lappy, we didn't get the internet connection. Oh, well. We tried. The boys stayed together and didn't fight. Which was amazing in itself. They even came back to me with 15 minutes left, so I told them they could play some more. When we left, the outdoor poolio was roped off. I suppose somebody had a little accident. The yellow biohazard tape was up, as #1 said.

We went into the office to call for the trolley. HH called on the cell and asked where we were. We told him we were just leaving the water park, waiting for the trolley. He said, "Oh." When the trolley dropped us off, we saw him walking back. HH. He's such an amateur.

The only thing I didn't like about the room was that it was near some central supply area for the workers. There were always a couple coming or going when we went in or out. I am suspicious. I imagined a roving gang of rip-off artists who would radio each other concerning our whereabouts, so they could rifle through the room at their leisure. Just because. That's my nature. Ever since my apartment was robbed while I was at work the year I finished my Master's Degree and worked in the junk store, I have been suspicious of any loiterers. Because that's how they robbed me. It was a cul-de-sac type of arrangement, and a lookout stood at the corner of the only entrance and walkie-talkied the inside guy when he saw the occupant returning. That way, he had time to sneak out the back. Which is what they did. The guy took my VCR and my Alien tape that was in it. He exited out the sliding glass door, having pried his way in with a screwdriver. It wasn't exactly CSI. A Springfield city cop told me, after traipsing about the apartment and telling me I was lucky they didn't throw condiments from my refrigerator on the walls, or poop in my bed. "Sometimes they get cute like that," he said. "They must have been watching this place for a while. They've hit several apartments." Duh. Then catch them already.

Goodness. This vacation report is taking a very long time. I seem to be digressing. Maybe I can stretch this vacation into a month's worth of posts.

Tomorrow, we'll dish the dirt on the Dixie Stampede. Oh, Dolly. If you only knew how I suffered, you'd turn over in your grave. If you were dead, that is.