Tag Archives: humor

Resorters Gone Wild! Stress in Paradise, Part 3.

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Stress in Paradise, Part 3, Resorters Gone Wild!

Dateline: Squid Row, Cabo San Lucas. This bar is an excellent place for someone on the run to spend the afternoon. You might keep this in mind. You never know.

In order to appreciate the significance the Chaise Lounge Wars occupies in history, you must first labor through the Fourteen Dollar Martini Murder and Chaise Lounge Wars, Stress in Paradise Episode Two.

The Stress of the Sneaky.

Okay. Now you are on board to just what the heck is going on here at the fabulous Los Cabos Resort. The demand for the best chaises, the ‘high end’ chaises, is now officially out of control. Guests are getting up earlier and earlier, thus, retiring earlier. The bars are losing money.  Every morning there was a new flyer from Guest Services detailing the Chaise Lounge Rules. (No kidding.) For example, a personal article must be left in view on each lounge currently being held (just in case I ever get out of the water or my room and want this chair and only this chair which has been empty since five this morning) as in use. After four hours, any unattended chaise could be re-conquered. These details only excited the troops.

The types of ‘personal items’ left on chaise began to change. The usual Fortune Magazines and IPads ‘holding items’ were replaced with Soldier of Fortune Magazinesand steak knives. One particularly menacing place holder was a ten inch blade with what I can only pray was strawberry jelly smeared halfway up.

Then children were forced into servitude while their parents played golf. Golfing couples faced a unique disadvantage in the war. Morning tee times meant “No special chairs for you!” Thus, children were boosted out of bed before dawn and sent to the ocean overlook where they could both finish sleeping and hold the chairs. After a couple of days of this maneuver, the kids were getting crabby. Money lost by the resort because the bars emptied early was now made up by record-setting daytime booze sales.

The children rebelled and organized an anti-child labor parade around the main pool. Parents, deeply embarrassed by their crass chaise lounge power-grabbing, immediately started throwing bribes around to the Hilton staff. Bartenders and housekeeping staff came in a couple hours early to hold chaises for their employers. As there was a limited pool available, bidding wars ensued. Soon the money to be made sitting on a lounge chair while your boss played golf, was more than Hilton’s salary.

Employees jumped ship. Bidding wars ensued. Oh, and I’m splurging on crab for supper using the extra money I made distributing magazines on chaises this morning.

The Chaise Lounge War: STRESS in PARADISE, Episode Two

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The Chaise Lounge War: Stress in Paradise. Episode Two

Dateline: The Giggling Marlin. Cabo San Lucas International Branch Bar. I don’t think the people in here are normal. I also think if they realize I’m listening to their conversations for national publication, things could get dangerous.

In order to appreciate the dangerous waters stirred up by the Chaise Lounge War, you must have joined up earlier with Stress in Paradise. Episode One: Revolution on the Beach.

Revolution is part of the vocabulary of Mexico. There are almost daily public demonstrations in Mexico City demanding better pay for agricultural and services workers. And here in Cabo San Lucas, another desperate cause has driven the oppressed to rise up. The Ultimate Supreme Superlative Fabulous Luxury (see previous confession) Hilton Resort where we’re staying simply does not have enough ultimate supreme chaise lounges in superlative fabulous locations. And the non-natives are restless.

Strictly speaking there are enough chairs so that every guest has a place to plant his or her soon-to-blistered body in the sun. There are loads of chaises—around the pools, on the overlooks, on the sand next to the water, everywhere–and the helpful guys in white will gladly adjust an umbrella to suit your needs. Each chaise is a little piece of heaven…you’d think. But here’s the rub. Some chaises are preferable over others. The ones on the overlook nearest the pounding surf are favored, unless you have children and are thus forced to set up camp nearer the many pools. Also, there are a dozen or so king size chaises, those are big ticket. The most precious are the ‘private’ king chaises with stacks of fresh pillows and surrounded by white muslin drapes. You know the kind, you’ve seen them—billowing white cotton, blue sky, turquoise water in the background–in those travel magazines hawking resorts intended for Wall Street superstars and their trophy wives. 

A day spent hanging out in a super chaise lounge suite is a day of luxury for the regular guest and a day of fantasy for a Hilton Points casher like me.

And there are not enough of these super lounges, not enough chairs on the big ticket overlook for every guest who thinks he or she should be able to dictate their life experiences. And, just as the Potato Famine of 1845 in Ireland resulted in a million immigrants and maybe the rise of unions in Chicago, the lack of premo chaise lounges has resulted in increasingly disturbed behavior.

The first acts of the revolution were harmless enough, unless you were picky about the speed with which you were served breakfast at the restaurant over-looking the waves and the jewel chaise lounges. The initial response for resort pros had been to get up early, finish breakfast first, and take chase lounge possession before those with more ordinary habits made it to the battlefield. Unfortunately, this tactic was so popular alarms were being set earlier and earlier each day until the bars were losing night time money and slackers like me didn’t appreciate the pitter patter of anxious feet and guests hollering, “Run, baby, run! I saw a couple break from the elevator! Bring six magazines!”

There was an upper limit to early riser tactic.

 Resort life was about to get ugly.

Next: Resorters Gone Wild!

Stress Holiday Encore: Make Money Off Your Body Scans!

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ENCORE POST:

Dateline:  (Encore) Willie’s Place, Carl’s Corner, Texas. Whole bunch of people sang here.

Setup:  I’m in hiding.  Ever since I offered my Body Scan for public consumption…the reporters, the cameras…Geraldo…

Remember John Lennon’s line, “Life is what happens when you’re making other plans?”

What a chunk of truth.  There I was, in a pretty normal life, planning more normal life….when my world was turned upside down.  You guessed it.  My Body Scan distribution company …BS,Inc… has been successful beyond my wildest dreams.

Note: What do financial success and fame have to do with the goal of this program?  Which, in case you’ve forgotten, is for each of us professed emotional weenies…to muddle toward…just a wee bit toward…improved emotional functioning. Or, simply…to not have every second of every minute of every hour of every day….decided by our emotions.  To do more in our lives than run around wasting time, spending money, falling for fad diets, worrying what other people think…comparing ourselves, our kids, our house, our car, our education, our butt size, our creative talents….

Thus, the story of my Body Scan business (BS. Inc.), is but one example of the seduction of the Pseudo Self (see previous on doughnuts and doughnut holes), one more attempt to manage anxiety by propping up my image to the world.  If you’d rather go the consumer route, the commercials during one half hour (okay, an hour and a half) of Prison Wives last night, told me a Dodge Ram means I’m confident, staying at a Holiday Inn means I can “be myself”, buying your wife diamonds or an expensive car shows you really think she’s grand… (Using money from the family budget…but, hey, it’s the thought.  The thought in this case is, “See, I love you so much I didn’t consider your input when spending this huge amount of money…”)

One way to break the hold “image making” has on us is to laugh at ourselves.  Again, if you don’t believe you have any reason to laugh because you are completley emotinally put together….well, Dr. Laura can still be found on the radio.

Back to the real BS, Inc. and whining about the demands of success.  Those of you…wiser in the world than I…who lacks even one cell of entrepreneurial expertise…probably spotted my first error in announcing my Body Scan availability. Right. Christmas.  Biggest shopping season of the year.  How could I foretell the thousands rush orders?  So many years of training in human behavior.  And, yet I hadn’t predicted the clamor when people recognized my Body Scan products as the perfect present for relatives, officemates, and military serving overseas.

And as is true with lottery winners, I found myself battling an onslaught of business opportunities.

First came the television cable channels in a bidding war for my reality show.  “Body Scans Around the World” which had great promise, but is now on hold due to artistic differences…The producer is insisting on a variety of what she calls “outfits” for the various airport venues…while I think to upgrade from black jeans and polo shirts would be a tragic error.

Next, of course, here came Hollywood.  Could I write a screenplay?  Who did I think should play me in the film?  Which ended up in another artistic dispute.  I know they think Julia Roberts is perfect, and, probably that’s true if you just go for face and body.  But, we’re talking scrutiny by Homeland Security and, right away, it’s going to be glaringly obvious that I am not as tall as Julia Roberts.  My suggestion was Heather Locklear.  The production will have to wait until some sort of Julia Roberts-Heather Locklear compromise actress can be found.

Where Hollywood goes, can Heff be far behind?  Yes, next came the plea for my Body Scan Playboy centerfold which is an obvious choice when you think about it. That offer is also on hold as I am gripped trying to decide if I can bear to have my family see my BS exposed.

To make some sense of my BS bonanza, I’ve decided the best way to go is through selling franchises.  I simply cannot keep up with the BS demand around the world on my own.  If you see the potential in your section of the world, send me your credit card number.  Franchise are, of course, FREE…just pay shipping and handling, and, if you call in the next 24 hours, you can try BS RISK FREE…all you have to do is check the box where you are a member of BS International and will have fifteen dollars deducted from your credit card account for as long as we both shall live. 

And, you know how they say…. “The sky’s the limit!”

Well, that’s not true for BS, Inc.  I’ve received a down payment and a pint of blood from a man in Quartzite, Arizona, who, thinking out of the box…well outside the trailer….He recognized my Body Scan as proof of alien inhabitation of Earth.  The silvery hue. Of course!  He wants my BS to make a personal appearance at his grand opening, but I’m afraid coverage in Quartzite will leave me over-exposed.

Stress.Body Scans Gone Wild!

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Dateline: North Austin Medical Center. Cough and Wheeze Section.

As an effort to lend a bit of joy to the Season while I attempt to return to the land of the breathing, I’m running a series from last year explaining how to make extra money.

As you can imagine, if you read part one of the Body Scan manual, I am buried in demand for my products.  At long last, I’m going to be rich.  People will notice me.  No one will cross me. I will have achieved the American Dream.

What’s that you say?  The American Dream is more than buying expensive stuff?  Oh, no…..You’re saying those of us not so steady in the emotional maturity department would try to BUY our way out of anxiety?  Ridiculous.  What’da ya think?  Black or tan leather in the BMW?

In Progress….Turn Body Scans into Fortunes!

Reduce Stress Instantly, The Flying Lawn Chair Incident

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Stress. The Flying Lawn Chair Incident. How to Save Time Instantly.

Dateline: DFW Airport International Branch Headquarters, chair in the corner, face to the wall.

First, I’d like to apologize to those unfortunate passengers on flights with me this weekend. If you are thinking, “Maybe I was on a plane with her and I didn’t know it,” you were not. If you recall a short blond woman, her agonized face mashed into the window, who seemed determined to cough up her lungs, or heard one side of the 737 you were in crackle and thunder, just maybe you were. I’m very, very sorry.

Want to save yourself a lot of stress and lower your personal “annoying-to-others” score? It’s really not that tough. Technically. Technically, like jumping rope for five minutes a day can change your life—technically.

To save time and stress, all you have to do is pass out a little permission and decide:

Other people get to do what they do. They do not require my agreement. My opinion is not important, nor does it make any sense for me to insist on telling people what I think of what other people do. To comment takes time and it’s annoying, except to those very few godlike beings who agree with everything I think about people who aren’t like us. Okay, enough with the sermon.

The following account is true. A retired weatherman had an idea how he could make use of several weather balloons cluttering up his garage and change the face of aviation as we know it. First he tied four balloons to an aluminum and plastic weave lawn chair. Next he strapped himself in. Then he popped the launch cords on the balloons. Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . LIFT OFF!

Yeah, baby. We are flying now. Mostly we are tumbling end-over-end through the first ten thousand feet. “Oh, what a beautiful blue sky–whoa, there’s my house! Oh, what a beautiful blue sky–whoa, there’s Chicago!” The view went from spectacular to, well, nauseating. But the Man Who Launched His Lawn Chair (MWLLC) was having a ball. Airport radars spotted an unidentified blip on their radar screens. News syndicates were alerted. Planes were diverted. Non-believers were converted. (Sorry, like the MWLLC, I couldn’t stop myself.)

The MWLLC’s wife wrung her hands, though when reporters asked her if she was surprised at her husband’s antics, she admitted such projects on slow summer afternoons were nothing new for her husband. She also admitted the MWLLC had stopped telling her his plans since she’d taken to calling the police and asking the procedures for getting a spouse committed.

What’s the point of this tale? As you read, did any part of you think…What kind of crazy person does something like that?

To instantly reduce stress, let go and let other people have fun. Enjoy their enjoying. You’d think we’d all be savvy on this strategy, but such is not the case. At least not for me and, unless you are Dr. L from the radio who makes no wrong moves, like me, you fall into the boring trap of questioning why other people enjoy activities and possessions you do not. And, if you are like me, when you ask this question, your tone informs listeners that, unlike myself, people are crazy and not as wise as I am if they:

Get up at 2 a.m. on Black Friday. Deep fry their turkey. Don’t deep fry their turkey. Salt their food before tasting it. Buy expensive cars. Spank their kids. Don’t spank their kids. Put up an artificial tree. Spend a day finding a real tree. Watch that stupid television show. Enjoy mincemeat pie. Watch NASCAR, golf, basketball, baseball, fake-real television families, or prison shows. Try to buy love by giving expensive Christmas presents. Are too cheap to give expensive Christmas presents. Are foolish enough to take out a second mortgage to send their child to private college. Are selfish enough to refuse to take out a second mortgage to send their child to private college.

You’ve got the picture. I know. Ouch. Ouch. Guilty. Guilty. One of the elements of psychology that continuously amazes me is how hard and complicated something as simple as enjoying the moment really is.

About the promised Triple Stuffed Turkey Recipe? Next year when I can breathe like a normal person again. Coming: Unique Gifts Only You Can Give.

Stress, Addiction, Humility, and the “Stolen Identity Incident”

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Stress, Addiction, and the “Stolen Identity Incident”

Dateline: San Antonio River Walk International Branch Office. One block over, on March 6, 1836, all the well-armed and well-dressed Mexicans in the world, stormed the Alamo killing everyone inside.  Newspapers in the weeks following ran stories encouraging settlers to “Come on down!” As one of those news articles in the Texas State Library says, “Texas is still a great opportunity for you and your family. The report claiming that the men in the Alamo were killed is a false rumor, propaganda sent out by politicians.”  Sigh. Things haven’t changed much.

In thinking about stress management and addiction, I realized it was time for the periodic pledge, the pledge that can eliminate loads of stress right off the top.

The pledge: I can be as big an idiot as anyone else. Even as big an idiot as the people I’m calling idiots. Whew. What a relief not to have to go through the world upset when people don’t do things the way I do, or more honestly, the way I think they should do them.

My special person and I were married in Mexico City and before you pull up lofty visions of the “destination” weddings where the couple or parents rent a hotel for a weekend and fly in two hundred of their closest friends to Paris or Tahiti, the event included the Registro Civil, the two of us, and the taxi driver as a witness.  He was a graduate student and I was a college junior though not the typical age of that group due to several spectacular detours.

In other words. We had no money. Before our big adventure,we embraced our American citizenship and took out a Mastercard. The trip was great, Acapulco, villages, historicalcities. A good time was had by all. The trouble started when we received our Mastercard bill which was a huge amount way beyond our own frugal spending.Clearly, the credit card number had been stolen and whoever took it charged everythingin sight knowing once they were caught the party was over.

Incensed, we marched down to the bank issuing the card and met with the head of the fraud department who was very sympathetic and assured us the bank would help find the culprit. All we had to do was sit down at the computer screen and review the charges marking the ones we did not make. Much relieved we set to work. Thirty minutes later we waited until the fraud director was away from her desk, then we ducked our heads and sneaked quietly to the elevator and out of there.

Repeat after me: “I can be as big an idiot…”

For those who honestly believe they are not subject to all the craziness of being human, there’s always Dr.Laura who knows all.

For me, it’s a comfort to recognize we’re all nuts.

Stress, So You Think Crashing One Wedding Was Rude?

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Stress, Runaway Pooch Crashes Five Star Wedding !

Dateline: Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Although the Sea of Cortez bears his name, it was not Hernan Cortez, but his navigator, who is credited with discovering Cabo San Lucas in 1537. Cabo San Lucas and Cabo San Jose soon became a busy stopovers for pirates.

What’s the Difference Between…Breaking Out of “Group Think Stress” and Just Being Annoying?  The trick is considering other people without over-considering them. 

Is the guy who insists on mowing the lawn in his birthday suit a free thinker or an unpleasant surprise?  Is the guy who refuses to shut down his cell phone and therefore prevents the flight from taking off…merely side-stepping ‘group think’?

And that woman in the bathing suit and the towel on her head that crashed the black-tie wedding reception? 

Dateline:  Dallas, Texas. Lincoln Center Hilton.

Finishing a swim, I’d taken Shrinker, our ancient, crippled shih tzu down for a stumble in the grass around the big fancy pool at the big fancy hotel hoping for a productive result.  I didn’t need a leash as Shrinker was as slow as certain relatives are reaching for their wallets.  Since her stroke, she’ambled sort of sideways making about a yard a minute. The pool grass part hadn’t been totally successful, but as we had group dinner plans, I was in a bit of a rush to get dressed. I carried the old sweetie to the bank of elevators in the center of the lobby and set her down to punch the button.  The left side of the main hall opened into a ballroom from which orchestra music and wonderful food smells wafted. At the far side of the ballroom the bride and groom were behind a magnificent candle laden table making a toast.

Which is when it happened.  When the formerly snail-paced Shrinker Dog caught the smell of sizzling steak. She shot from my between my ankles and into the ballroom going all-out, knowing when I caught up with her, all hope of garnering steak was gone.

What did I do?  What could I do?  I centered my flip-flops, re-wrapped the too-large towel around my dripping head, and flung my bathing-suited self into the party. Stroke or no stroke, sweet babe was all woman when it came to food. She rocketed in her side-ways gait across the dance floor scattering guests. Then she dove under the covered white table leaving me stupidity flopping around trying to find her. Sophisticated people glared, candles were grabbed, I heard lenses come off video cameras.  I pretended I was having an instant onset of a serious mental disorder characterized by babbling.  I kept my head down as I flushed out the Shrinker dog who bounded away and tacked her way back across the dance floor…leaving little presents, quickly picked up by men in tuxedos. Thus, a couple of good things came out of the event.  My trip down to the grass was successful after all and, having kept my head down, I’d managed to stay anonymous.

Waiting for the elevator when we returned with friends around midnight, a well-dressed man and woman sidled up. At first the man looked confused.  Then not so much.  “I know you!” he said, pointing a knowing and sophisticated finger.  “You’re the woman with the dog!”

The trick is considering other people without over-considering them.  The husband alerting his new bride not to use her fingers on her cake…could have been concerned about bothering the other guests could possibly, maybe, sort of been showing a bit of over-concern for the guests. Of course, marriage means “I love-you-your-perfect-except-for-these-few-hundred-little-things-you-must-change-if-I-am-to-be-kept-comfortable.”  And, I must not be uncomfortable, ever. That’s the deal.

Say, what? What goes both ways?