where fashion sits

As previously mentioned, Friday was our 10 year wedding anniversary. Seeing as we have never really done more than go out to dinner on our anniversary, we decided to celebrate on a grander scale this year. We spent two nights at the Ritz-Carlton on Amelia Island. We then decided we needed to do this every year. Maybe not at the Ritz, but somewhere. Have you ever stayed at the Ritz? If you like old money, then you should.

Even if you don't like old money, you'd still probably like the Ritz. Unless you have an objection to daiquiris by the pool, chocolates at your bedside, and Adirondack chairs set up with a perfect view of the beach. Definitely don't stay there then.

Anyway, it was Labor Day weekend, so of course the place was hopping. When we pulled up, a shiny black stretch limo was in front of us unloading a handful of good-looking 23 year olds. Patrick and I looked at each other. "I bet it's a wedding," one of us said. Was it ever.

Apparently, these folks were wreaking havoc all over the Ritz. We were relaxing by the pool Saturday afternoon when two guys came over and sat in the chairs directly next to me. As is the nature of hotel pool chaises, they were quite close to us, enabling us to hear absolutely everything they were talking about. The topics ranged from supposed infidelity on the groom's part, to who was barfing in his/ her room at that very moment. Every waitress that came by was on the receiving end of the following:

Boys: Hey, Lindsey!

Waitress: My name is Caitlin.

Boys: Oh right, Caitlin. What time do you get off work?

-or the alternate greeting-

Boys: Excuse me, miss? What is your name?

Waitress: Caitlin.

Boys: Caitlin! That's my mother's name! Caitlin, what time do you get off work?

Waitress: When the pool closes.

Boys: So, what is that, like 11?

Caitlin: 7:00.

Boys: 7, perfect! Do you want to go to a wedding at 9?

and so on...

After their second or third attempt, I leaned over and said, "Does this usually work for you guys, or is it something new you are trying out?" They laughed and claimed not to know each other. "I don't even know this guy..."

It was really like we were part of some movie with Will Ferrell or Seth Rogen. But, they were harmless and entertaining and knew the limits of what is appropriate poolside behavior. We didn't mind them so much. And then the rest of the crew showed up.

Shortly thereafter, these two were joined by the groom, who they proceeded to throw in the pool. (After removing his shirt, sandals, wallet, keys, phone, I mean really, where is the spontaneity at that point...) Then three or so more guys, much rowdier than those present, showed up. We were met with declarations from the consensus about being thrown off the golf course for playing bumper cars with the golf carts, some ill-advised swinging of clubs, and one patron apparently received a dishonorable discharge (his words) for dropping my pants (also his words) He did those little finger quotations when he said "dropping my pants," and it took all I had not to spit out my mouthful of nachos. The group decided to head over to the bar but returned quickly to await the 8 or so burgers they had ordered. While the six or so of them waited on the two chairs next to me, conversations ranged from strippers to the the priest to the rehearsal dinner. During this time, a security-type fellow walks up and says to them, "We have a waitress who said one of you groped her. Is this the case?" or something to that effect. Adamant denials and incredulity abounded. They were flabbergasted. I was not at all surprised. The man left to sort the matter out with the battered waitress, and the boys continued to dispute the claim. At this point, another friend walked up, whom they immediately informed of the situation. The friend's response was, " Oh man, I can't believe the would accuse you guys of something like that! That's crazy! So who did it?" (His response was actually a little more, er, colorful, but you get the idea. This is a family blog, after all.)

Eventually the man came back, told them it was the offensive language that was the problem, (I guess the groping didn't happen? Who knows...) and encouraged them to take the party down to the beach, which they did. At this point, one of the boys who was originally sitting next to me returned (he had been absent for the duration of the sexual harassment episode) and, upon hearing the explanation from the security fellow, came over to Patrick and I and apologized for his obnoxious associates, to which Patrick responded, "I teach high school. That was Shakespeare."