Labor Day marks the traditional end of summer, but I defied custom with a poststop-wearing-white (that means you too, Miley!) outing to a "resort" hotel pool. The destination was a copycat version of Las Vegas’ notorious "Rehab" pool party. The exact locale shall remain nameless because what happened there was not their fault, except for maybe an unfortunate bit of geography and tragic timing.
The weather was cooperative and my husband was actually home, so I gamely donned my bikini with intentions of soaking in some vitamin D and imbibing a few low-sugar cocktails laced with tequila. We had grand ideas of singeing sun, hot bods and cold drinks. In reality, the sun was scorching. The bods – eh, not so hot, except for our cocktail waitress and a lone "beachgoer" that sprang the song "Bubble Butt" to life. But, important things important – the cocktails were chilled nicely and we had a whole private cabana to ourselves complete with a mini fridge and Direct TV.
Apparently, the universe had other intentions than I envisioned for my afternoon.
As luck would have it, our cabana had some squatters in it when we arrived – a family of four portly vagrants all resembling Mama June from "Honey Boo Boo."
They had clearly smuggled and guzzled their own bottle of rail tequila into the club, against the no "BYOB" policy. The warehouse store sized bottle sat three quarters empty, stowed crookedly in the sand.
Instead of placing us beneath another four-poled domain, the management insisted on gently kicking the intruders out by reminding them that cabanas were "rental only." They loudly grumbled as they snatched up their belongings and moved to the white plastic, "free" loungers directly in front of our cabana. I gulped as I noticed a Rorschach from their sweaty bodies left behind on the fabric cushions of our chaise lounges.
As I watched his belly lead the way away from us, I marveled at the feat of physics achieved by the tequila-soaked husband as he was able to balance vertically and simultaneously walk forwards. Naturally, he proved to be quite friendly and chatty, asking to keep his bottle of hooch in our fridge and, in the spirit of honesty, letting us know that he had gathered some extra towels for his group that he put "on Cabana 1."
He hoped we didn’t mind, adding his wife had requested the purple solid towels we were laying on, but the clubhouse would only give him the striped version. He then quipped that his betrothed was used to making do, as she "had to deal with it for three years while I was locked up in prison."
And the awesomeness continued for the next three hours.
Grandma never quite broke intensely staring at me like an extra on "Breaking Bad." The family’s oversized toddler incessantly screamed like a brat each time his sugar fix ran out. The formerly incarcerated husband somehow made his way into our cabana several times to philosophically chat about tattoos, his broken computer and the possibility of smoking a bowl together – all of which we politely endured and declined in order to not create any further waves in our afternoon by the pool.
When they finally departed, they left us with a full view of the poolside shower, unfortunately situated right in front of our cabana.
Almost in chorus as we breathed a sigh of relief at our newfound privacy, a middle-aged woman emerged from the pool. She looked innocent enough wearing an ill-fitting black bikini whose elastic was ravaged by chlorine. Her head was encased in a painfully tight black vinyl swim cap that made me wince from imagining the friction of removal. Still, she seemed harmless.
Suspicion arose as I noticed she clung to a huge clear plastic swim mask and snorkel dripping with pool water. As I stared in wonderment at the idea of snorkeling in the resort pool, all the sun and fun of the day was overshadowed as I began to witness the woman indulging in a full body cleansing at the poolside shower.
Please note the descriptive word – poolside. As in very public, in full view of everyone to see. Also, please revisit the term "full body cleansing," as in not a smidgen of a part meant to be private was left confidential or un-sudsed.
She used a hotel-issue white washcloth and bottle of complimentary shampoo, moving her swimsuit left and right, away from her body to accommodate her hand, which was clutching the soapy rag. The bath became an offensively choreographed dance as she stretched the swimsuit bottom forward to shove her hands between her legs and rub a dub dub. She then reached around back, snapping the Lycra fabric away so she could reach what looked like her entire arm betwixt her cheeks. She crescendoed, moving upwards, sliding the stretchy triangles outwards to get that washcloth going in circles.
I abruptly and completely understood the term "whore’s bath" and swore never to use a hotel washcloth again.
I could barely contain my mixture of emotions as I hissed in a combination of insane laughter and horrified screams to my husband, "ARE YOU WATCHING THIS!!??"
So, I ask you, dear OnMilwaukee.com readers, as you reflect on this last summer and look forward to the next … Just how much showering is meant to be done at beach or in pool open-air showers? Is soaping up appropriate? What about using an implement like a sponge, loofah or cloth? How much clothing can be removed or pushed aside without offending?
Last time I checked, those showers are for rinsing sand off your feet or sunscreen off your skin before submerging in the pool – not for a full body soap fest complete with undercarriage detailing, wax and polish.
Regardless of your viewpoint, the lesson here is: think twice before using those hotel washcloths.
Lindsay... you are far too nice of a person. If I paid money for a cabana at a hotel I would make sure the hotel staff provied me with a fresh cabana not so recently occupied by the carnival troup you detailed.
As for the "towel" incident, people are crazy. I'm no prude (been to topless/nude beaches), but I always felt that other than getting sand off your body at a public shower anything else is unnecessary and crude. That's what the shower back in the room (or your house) is for. But like I said, people are crazy, and they just can't stop themselves from doing crazy things. Thank god for people like you that can roll with it and not let it ruin their day.
1 comment about this article.
Post your comment/review now
Disclaimer: Please note that Facebook comments are posted through Facebook and cannot be approved, edited or declined by OnMilwaukee.com. The opinions expressed in Facebook comments do not necessarily reflect those of OnMilwaukee.com or its staff.
Recent Articles & Blogs by Lindsay Garric
Published Dec. 5, 2013
As if it weren't enough that retailers went into Christmas mode while most of us were still trick or treating, I was also still really reeling from the notion that Thanksgiving Eve has now been christened "Brown Thursday." And then there's Cyber Monday. And don't forget #GivingTuesday ...
Published Nov. 20, 2013
My hair-brained mind cannot help but wonder if any chicks literally embracing Movember? Are there any women growing out their mustaches (gasp!) all November long?
Published Nov. 8, 2013
After driving my 12-year-old front wheel drive SUV 2241 miles in three days through a nasty autumn storm system, I consider myself fit to give a bit of advice on how to road trip like a boss.
Published Oct. 24, 2013
While it may seem natural that the horror film genre would appeal to what may appear to be my edgier tastes, I am really just a quivering baby when it comes to scary stuff, so I use the wussy technique of avoidance to cope.
Published Oct. 9, 2013
Lloyd Barbee Montessori school's compromised arts programming captured Lindsay Garric's attention earlier this year and she and her husband, along with friends, decided to do something to help.
Published Sept. 24, 2013
I can no longer deny that autumn is really here. The equinox has passed and although oddly warm temperatures may be trying to fool summer-loving souls, the scenery of changing leaves and the certainty of chilly nights are shoving the reality of this season in my face. So, in the spirit of having a "polished finger on beauty, fashion, fitness and nutrition trends," here are my five favorites for fall.
Published Aug. 28, 2013
I've always wanted to be one of those people who don't take everything so seriously; who isn't so affected by what other people do and say; who doesn't feel quite so deeply about everything. I consciously work on building a thicker skin, but alas - some personality traits die hard.
Published Aug. 5, 2013
If you are professional musician who marries a girl from Milwaukee, expect to spend more than a little of your time in her beloved hometown. That's the case for singer-songwriter Wil Seabrook, reality star, musician and human rights activist, who is returning to his wife's hometown on Aug. 8 for an intimate show at Sugar Maple.
Published July 23, 2013
I'd never been to Wanderlust, the festival that celebrates the union of yoga, music and nature until this past weekend. I journeyed to Wanderlust California for the fifth anniversary of the festival held at beautiful Squaw Valley Ski Resort in Olympic Valley, Calif. (home of the 1960 Winter Olympics), near Lake Tahoe.
Published July 11, 2013
I have a health infatuation - herbal remedies. Utilizing herbs as a natural means to treat health issues and ailments is something I've been interested in since my first allergic reaction to Western medication in my teens. I recently explored herbal shopping options in Milwaukee and was thrilled to discover The Natural Food Shop on the South Side.