Get Over It!

Now I don't go around telling everyone to "Get over it!" It's a rather harsh statement, but I think, if you'll read on, you'll agree that this is a case in which it is entirely fitting to say, "GET OVER IT ALREADY!"

A little over FOUR years ago, my good friend Kristen and I went to Nashville to see the grooviest of all men, Greg Page, perform with the TCB Band. (They used to play with Elvis.) Kristen sent me standby tickets to fly on Southwest Airlines, where she used to work. Now, for those who don't know me, it is paramount that you understand that I am the hugest fan ever of Greg Page (former lead singer of the children's group, The Wiggles.) These Nashville concerts were not Wiggly, but "grown-up" music. It rocked, to put it mildly.

But I'm getting ahead of myself...and the concert is not the point of this blog, so let me get back to it.

Due to excitement and not willing to risk being bumped from a flight (the risk you take flying standby), I opted to go a day before, which happened to be a Thursday. Kristen wasn't free to leave and join me until Friday. So I got to the hotel first, obviously. Upon checkin at the hotel, The DoubleTree, I was given a warm chocolate chip cookie. So I took my cookie and my bags and headed to my room.

Another thing you need to understand is that a Greg Page concert weekend is NOT about food. (Kristen never read that memo, apparently...as you'll soon see.) I can't eat on those weekends because I'm SO excited about getting to see Greg. I mean, just being in the same city as him sends my tum-tum into lockdown. And it's fine by me. I can survive off adrenalyn for that long, no prob.

Well I get to my room and though not too into the cookie, it IS a WARM cookie, so I try a bite. (That's what I do with all food throughout these weekends. I figure if I get a calorie or two, here and there, I'll be fine.) Problem: the cookie had nuts. WHY DO THEY DO THAT?? Blegck!! That should be illegal, so I pitch the cookie into the garbage and got on with life. Translation: I went down to the lobby to sit and wait to see if Greg would walk through. Yes, he was in the same hotel. No, he didn't walk through until VERY late that night. And yes, I was still sitting there when he did. (Although SOMEWHERE in there I left to get a sandwich across the street. I bet he snuck through then. Hmmmmm....)

Next day comes and (leaving out all kinds of Greg-related excitement because frankly, some of you wouldn't appreciate it...or understand ::sniff,sniff::...or couldn't take it, lol) I go and get Kristen from the airport. We come back to the hotel, she checks in, too, to get her room key (although we shared the room). And here's the critical point in this story. The DoubleTree didn't give Kristen her warm cookie. They didn't even give her a cold cookie. She got nothing but a plastic card they claim is a key. (Why do we call those cards keys? They aren't. They do the same job, I know, but they are NOT keys.)

Another important item here: Kristen was six months pregnant. So despite the fact that it was a Greg concert weekend, it was still about food for her. She tortured me and made me try to eat when she did.

Angry pregnant woman did NOT get her cookie. We won't go into her reaction when I told her I threw mine away. This is a family site. (Just kidding...not THAT bad.)

I cannot count the times I've heard since then, "I still haven't gotten my cookie!" I've even mailed her another cookie with microwave directions for warming it, and a most apologetic, though forged, letter from the management of that hotel, but does that count? Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Kristen wants her cookie from The DoubleTree.

So let's all say it together, with love, of course: "GET OVER IT ALREADY!"