In Which My Husband and I Spend Our First Night Away from the Baby, With Another Man (Alternate Title: The Sanest Days Are Mad)

My husband has a BMW. We've invested so much money in it that it should be worth a lot by now, right? And we're about to make some more improvements, because it died just as we reached Greenville, South Carolina last night for the Morrissey show.

About ten minutes before we arrived in Greenville, that scary little light came on, the one that warns you your car is about to overheat, leaving you stranded in the middle of the road with smoke coming out from under the hood. We made it just off the highway and almost into the city before the car died. I leapt out of the car, grabbing my bag of course, and scooted across four lanes of traffic to get to the sidewalk. My outfit, which looked totally awesome for a concert, made me look like a drunk hooker running from her pimp.

Especially given that I was tottering across four lanes of traffic, trying to get away from an old guy in a BMW. And yelling. I was yelling at my husband because, in an effort to go down with the ship, he was calling the auto club on his cell phone, standing beside the car in the middle of the highway. Brilliant. As luck would have it, we were meeting our friends George and Blan at the concert and they just happened to pull up right behind us. I stood on the side of the road looking scraggly while they pushed the car into a parking lot. I am only sorry that I no longer smoke, because that would have made the scene better.

The auto club couldn't send a tow truck until morning and we had no ride home. You know what that meant...we got to stay in a hotel and everyone got to drink, because the designated driver had been rendered obsolete. Wheeeeeeeeee! There were a few non-rock starish details to attend to, like calling my dad and convincing him to go relieve our babysitter and spend the night with the kids. Baby J was a tough sell, because we've never left him overnight and he still won't say no to a midnight snack. But, what can you do? I love situations that are completely beyond my control, because no one can get mad at you for having fun.

Nervous husband in tow, we parked Blan's car and tottered* to the show. As we were walking, I saw a familiar sight. At first I thought it was a mirage, but, no! It was a Westin Hotel! My absolute favorite campground! I just love the Heavenly Bed. And the Heavenly Shower. And the Heavenly Television and Room Service. We stumbled into the hotel, less than thirty minutes before the start of the show, and were thrilled to find out that we could get a great rate on a room. The rate was not so great, however, that we could afford a second room for our friend George, who had already warned us about his snoring, but that didn't matter. A simple night out to see a concert had turned into a glamorous adventure. And this particular Westin was built in the 1920's, which totally matched my jacket. I couldn't have been more pleased.

The show was excellent. My favorite part was in the lobby, when I was using the box office phone book to get the number to leave a message asking the parking lot owners not to tow our soon to be towed car. A dashing, young man with a fabulous British accent came up to me and said, "Would you like to see the show for free? You're beautiful." Yes, folks, for an old, married mama like myself, this sort of thing does more for the ego than a million compliments from my husband, bless his heart. And it totally confirmed that I had picked the right outfit. And that my hair looked pretty good.

We sat in a box, one of those opera hall type boxes, which made it a more grownup sort of night, as did the bar in the lobby. I liked the box, because it was so clean that I could take my shoes off and dance. We could see everyone, including the fans who ran up on the stage to try to touch Morrissey and the bouncers who tackled them. I had forgotten how much I loved Morrissey, too. During Old Lang Syne, he rested in some kind of shoulder stand with his legs in full Lotus while the band played and y'all know I love me some Yoga, so that was hot.

After the show, we went to a bar (yay!) By then, my husband had given up and was pretty relaxed. In the bathroom of the bar, I found this notice:

So, if you are seeking employment as a professional waiter or as a waiters position, let me know. And do not worry if you have very little knowledge of international beers and liquors, because they had those, but not any more. Now they just have Bud and Bud Light.

After the bar, we tottered* back to the hotel, ready to crash. But not before my husband and George went across the street to a restaurant to get beer and bubbly, which I drank out of the bottle after jumping on the Heavenly Bed in my husband's tennis clothes, which he conveniently had in his car. I fell asleep to the sounds of Sports Center and George's snoring. My husband, for once, didn't snore. It was a perfect night.

The next morning, while husband supervised the towing of the car and George slept, I sat in the hotel restaurant, reading the New York Times and taking advantage of the all you can eat breakfast buffet. I had an omelet (asparagus, broccoli, peppers and cheese), bacon, sausage, cheese blinis, fruit and about four shiny pitchers of coffee. I grabbed a bunch of those tiny jelly and syrup jars for the kids. As it turned out, there were no rental cars available, so my husband had his assistant drive up to get us. Our heroes, the staff of the Westin, comped our breakfast out of pity. We had to wait a couple of hours, so I kept hitting the breakfast buffet. I skipped lunch.

Speaking of lunch, I had my brother take lunch to the kids at school. I didn't want to ask my dad, who had gotten very little sleep, or my mom, who was spending the morning entertaining the winsome, but high maintenance, Baby J. I'm very proud of my baby brother, who managed to come up with a well balanced lunch: peanut butter and jelly, apples, Cape Cod chips and V8. So...the big kids were fine, Baby J was pleased with all of the attention and didn't seem to care that we were gone and Morrissey was superb. Best! Night! Ever!

Namasté, y'all!

* I tottered. My three dates walked. I was feeling pretty glamorous, with three dates and all. Granted, two of the dates were married, one of them to me, but I take what I can get.