The Watery Convention

After a long drive in the back of a Ford Pinto with two ladies who trusted me with directions, we finally got to the luxury hotel in Baltimore. It was quite a journey, at times I felt like I was on the U.S.S. Minnow with Ginger and Maryann and I was the loveable doofus, Gilligan. The three-hour drive almost took the traveling wind out of my sails. Now I will spend no more time talking about my journey here.

Our badly rusted blue Pinto limped up to the front of the hotel. Two valets were standing there flipping a quarter in the air. It was sure nice how Baltimore welcomed us with both arms open. The quarter fell to the ground and the individuals followed it off the curb until it came to a rest on our tire. Then the two valets started to argue.

“Its on the tire.”

“If the car moved, it would be heads.”

“It is still standing up.”

“Everyone can see it’s going to be heads.”

“There’s still a chance it can be tails.”

“Then flip it again.”

“We can’t! We can’t even do best of three until we know what this is heads or tails.”

“Man this is stupid… I’ll just try that uhmmmm car.”

peanut opened the car door and I pushed the seat forward, crushing her to the dashboard and I got out. I saw the quarter on the ground next to the tire and I picked it up.

“Baltimore is so nice… haven’t even been here a minute and I’m already basking in the wealth” I said. The two valets gave me a look and then looked at each other.

“Moo!” said an irritated voice from the car. Sounded like someone was having a bad hair day. If I would have known that being pushed into the dashboard was going to upset her this much I probably would have waited to get out, but Oh well this convention only comes around once a year.

The valets stopped their bickering when the driver side door opened. It really was quite awe inspiring because symphony music began to play as waterbaby swung her legs out of the car. She had on her scuba fins, which would make it hard for you and I to drive, but she was a real pro at it. Also under her Stories.Com T-shirt and denim skirt she wore her wet suit. She had her snorkel to one side of her mouth and her goggles were worn like a headband. The valets raced to help her out of the car.

Peanut, once she removed herself from the dashboard, also wasn’t lacking a male escort out of the car. She resorted to foiled packet bribery; yep, she gave each valet two packs of her favorite salted peanuts.

They drove the car off and we entered the lobby. It was a beautiful place even if the carpet squished when you walked on it. None of us took notice, at least not at first, to the front desk, the attire of the manager, and the canopy overhead.

The front desk, at least everything on it, was draped in plastic. The desk clerk and the manager were wearing raincoats and goulashes. And there was this canopy that looked like fifty umbrellas strung together, overhead.

“Hello and welcome to Baltimore,” said the clerk, “you must be from Stories.Com.” He extended his hand out to us. Water droplets fell from his coat onto the counter and floor. The three of us were reluctant to shake his hand because of the water and the electrical equipment nearby.

“Oh, Uhmmm sorry about the water. We are having a slight problem with the plumbing, but the fireman said that it would only be a matter of time for the water and smoke to clear out. At least we can now offer you a pool in your room. But please no more candles!”

All this excess water wasn’t going to dampen my spirits any. We all had to get our feet wet when we mustered up enough courage to post our first item. I just wished I had packed my swimsuit.

Later that evening we registered with Stories.Com. The StoryMaster and The StoryMistress also weren’t letting the water get to them, however they wouldn’t let us use the computers or the p.a. system. The open mic night sounded more like a pig calling contest than a poetry reading.

I spent six months on water before in the Navy but I never had this much fun as I did on this weekend.

I can’t wait until next year to do it all over again.