S: Visiting Margaritaville

I made an allusion to this in my birthday update, so it’s clear that I owe you the full story on the big Jimmy Buffett weekend. Pop some corn and set your phone to go straight to voicemail.

Or just scroll through really fast. I’ll highlight the important words for you.

Either way, get ready for:

“Searching for My Lost Shaker of Salt” or “How I Almost Ruined Buffett Weekend”

The first thing you need to understand is that I work freelance. This means:

1. I do not get to take vacation time;

2. Jobs come up randomly, no matter what plans I have;

3. I have to take jobs that come up or I have no income.

It is this list of unavoidable facts that nearly ruined Jimmy Buffett weekend. A date with Guy I had been looking forward to since March.

Big surprise, right? Based on what happened just before we were supposed to go on vacation in May, I think we were both expecting things to go awry.

And so, as is the typical fashion in Sheila’s world, a job came up at the last minute that completely interrupted our travel plans.

And I had to take it. I had no choice. New client. Good money. Work.

I let Guy know right away so we could start figuring out what to do. He was obviously frustrated, but he understood the situation. He wasn’t frustrated with me, just at the way things have to be. As was I.

We were supposed to hit the road Friday morning in order to arrive at the pre-party (which I had been told is the epitome of debauchery and not to be missed) in the afternoon. Only my job wouldn’t get done until likely 5 or 6 in the evening. Of course.

I told Guy that I would understand if he went without me, because I didn’t want to be the one to ruin his weekend…secretly hoping he would not want to go without me.

Then, later, when we finally had a chance to talk about it, the first thing he said was, “So, I assume I am going to Buffett without you.”

This I did not like. Not because I thought he was obligated to miss the weekend on my behalf, but because I didn’t want to miss the weekend. He had asked me to join him on this trip within a few weeks of us dating. I thought it was silly to plan so far ahead at the time (now we see why), but was ecstatic that he felt like we could make a date 4 months into the future.

Buffett weekend would NOT be ruined!

All along, I thought Guy would decide to wait for me and make the drive to Wisconsin late, but it became clear that he wasn’t thinking that was an option. And, really, when I thought about it, I didn’t want him to do that. I already felt badly enough about my situation messing up our weekend plans that I wasn’t about to let him miss out on anything.

We got on the phone to hash it out. He said he felt like there was no right answer for him and I understood that. He had a tough choice, so I made it for him. I insisted that he leave in the morning on Friday as planned. (He’s done this for me before when I’ve had a lose-lose choice to make. He’ll make the insistence so the choice is made for me. This is a humane and supportive technique and this time it was my turn to apply it.)

Then I decided that I would make the drive on my own after my job was finished. I knew that a long road trip after a day of working would be rather difficult, but I also knew it would be much more difficult to spend the weekend at home, knowing he was enjoying the Buffett weekend that I was having to miss.

Problem solved. He leaves with his friends in the morning and I join him later that night after my job.

The only thing left to do at that point was hope the job got done earlier than expected.

It did not.

More surprise.

It was interminable.

I hit the road, exhausted, in the early evening and began the journey, blatantly ignoring each state’s posted speed suggestions.

I can tell you right now that those Starbuck’s Doubleshot beverages are miraculous. And I’m really not a fan of Starbuck’s. I am, however, a fan of singing at the top of my lungs and bouncing off of my car’s proverbial walls.

I made good time, but was in a poopypants mood by the time I got to the hotel and was not receptive to Guy’s updates about how drunk everyone was. I just couldn’t see me showing up at a party where everyone was well past the point of no return and I had no way of catching up. Especially when I didn’t know any of them and would already feel somewhat out of place. So, after he said he would understand if I just wanted to crash at the hotel, I did the worst…I told him I wasn’t going out to the party.

He sent a sad face and I knew that wasn’t the right move. But I was grumbly and feeling anti-social, so that’s what I decided.

For about a minute.

Then I decided I should at least give it a try or I knew I would be ticked with myself in the morning. So I squeegeed the travel of my face, made myself presentable and headed out to try to find the place in the dark.

I found it and Guy was surprised to see me, having missed my final message telling him how I realized I could use a drink. I met the gang, made good impressions, had a drink and then suddenly the party was breaking up. Apparently, I was too much for the good times to take.

We went back to the hotel and proceeded to enjoy our Buffett weekend. You can use your imagination.

From then on, I was glad I had made the trip. The friends were fun, the booze was free-flowing and the concert was a blast. For a short time on the day of the show I had gone a bit too far toward oblivion. I think this ruined Guy’s tailgating experience a little, but he remained patient and poured a bunch of water in me to pull me back so I could rally for the show. Which I did, so the rest of the night was a great time.

And I managed to get through the whole weekend without showing my boobs. I was told this was highly unlikely, and was regularly prodded by my incorrigible date, so I’m not sure how I managed it.

Guy got no end of crap from everyone for leaving me behind on Friday and he did feel guilty about it. I told him he shouldn’t since I pretty much made him leave on Friday morning, but still, he did. He said he even waited for a while before he started really enjoying himself on Friday, but then I made him assure me he had the best time ever, because I did not want my solo flight to be in vain.

We ended up having a great weekend. And we got to have our time together in the car on the way home. In previous weeks I had visions of starting long conversations about things we should maybe discuss but usually tend to avoid, but I didn’t want to spoil the fun we had with the realities that lie on the path ahead of us.

Those were bridges we didn’t need to cross on this road trip.

All in all, disaster was averted and Buffett weekend turned out to be a fantastic time for both of us. I can’t wait for next year.