Lost Reprise Part I

Backstory: In the middle of Summer 2006 we went on a family vacation to meet a bunch of other crazy people to go on a retreat. Crazy, I say, because who else would drive hundreds of miles and three states away to meet a bunch of people from the internet with whom their common thread was simply reproductive choices? We would, of course. Well, our trip was interesting to say the least, and I just HAD to write it all down when we got back. I shared the story with a few people, and as of late I've had some requests to share it again. This story is my first post on this blog, but it's long and unwieldy, so I've decided to reprise it in three parts. Here's the first part, and just bear with me today and tomorrow, because the last part is the best.

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Lost in Peoria
Or How I Spent My Summer Vacation
By Kelly

The following story is real. No names have been changed. No details have been exaggerated…sadly.

We left on a sunny clear Thursday morning to U2 singing “It’s a Beautiful Day.” No kidding, it’s true. The 10-hour drive (including stops) on the way down to St. Louis was entirely uneventful. I think we were so happy to be in a car with air conditioning (rental) that nothing could bother us!

When we arrived in St. Louis that night, we decided it was of the utmost importance to try St. Louis-style ribs. So we stopped at a barbecue place, ate supper, and checked into the Airport Hilton. The room was not exactly what I would have imagined a Hilton to be, having never stayed in one, but no worries, we were on vacation! We promptly went to bed and were promptly awakened around 1 or 2 a.m. (and for seven hours afterward) by the wretched sounds of a two-year-old retching.

Next morning, thinking giving her a muffin would cure this vomiting streak (I don’t know where my head was at that point), we let Emme have an apple cinnamon muffin and then go swimming. Like I said—WHERE WAS MY HEAD????? Fortunately we didn’t have any episodes of emesis during our stay in the pool, but as soon as we arrived at the pool, noticing there were no clean towels in the swimming area (but plenty of used ones lying around amidst the empty candy bar wrappers), Conrad went to ask the concierge to please bring us some pool towels.

Fast forward one hour and fifteen minutes later. The kids are screaming, tired, cold, and not able to leave because we have no towels. Finally, “Screw it,” said I. “We are walking back to the room without towels.” So two adults with their visible rolls of flesh (one with diseased-looking limbs) pull two screaming daughters through the lobby of the Airport Hilton…dripping pool water all the way. I decided to stop and tell the concierge that I was none too happy with the service we had (not) been provided. He took one look at my psoriasis-covered limbs and shuddered.

So we checked out of the hotel and decided to go make sure we could find our way to Our Lady of the Snows before we ate or did any sightseeing. Except that as soon as we got there, Emme continued on with her vomiting streak (in the car) and literally could not stop. She was burning up, so the decision was made that we would have to find a hospital to at least get her checked out and make sure she didn’t have anything serious. This was the decision that would color the rest of our vacation.

We drove straight into a suburb of St. Louis, thinking that it would be our best bet, not knowing that the phrase “East Saint Louis” had significant connotation in the minds of St. Louisans. As we were driving, Hannah made the observation: “Mom, this town sure has a lot of broken windows!” We pulled into an ER. Not the type to stereotype, but a realist all the same, Conrad took one look at the mass of teenagers (wearing winter coats in the 103° heat and hugging their crotches to keep their pants from falling down) moving slowly yet confidently toward this brand new Sonata with the out-of-state plates and decided he would stay with the car while I checked Em in.