Mr. and Mrs. G’s kids take great delight in mocking their parents’ lack of social prowess and stamina, their sadly wanting élan. Mrs. G’s daughter will call the house at 8:00 in the evening and when Mrs. G. answers, exclaim, “Mom! I didn’t expect you to answer the phone! What are you doing up so late?” Mrs. G’s son will enter the living room on a Friday night and say, “Wait, wait, don’t tell me…let me guess! Tonight you two are going to sit right on this couch and watch a movie.” The banter, the derision…no, no, it never gets old.
Well Mrs. G. wishes the fruit of her womb was around last night when Mr. G. suggested to Mrs. G. at 11:45 in the dark of night that they stroll downtown and go dancing.
“Hold up,” Mrs. G. said, “Did you just say you want to go dancing?”
“But I’m in my nightgown.”
“Just throw on some jeans and let’s go. You’ll look fantastic! Really, let’s just go.”
So Mrs. G. threw on some jeans and flip-flops, grabbed Mr. G’s arm and sashayed into town wearing her nightgown.
They danced for two hours.
After the fourth margarita, Mr. G. nearly twirled Mrs. G. into the restaurant’s fresh lobster tank.
No one was injured, but it was a natural ending to a most excellent evening. It was time to head home.
Even in a foreign country, Mr. G. always knows a shortcut, so on the walk home, they took some twists and turns that brought them to the large coral wall surrounding their resort.
The next thing Mrs. G. knows, Mr. G. is climbing over the wall and encouraging her to follow.
Mrs. G. was down on her knees in the sand she was laughing so hard.
“Just grab my hand!" he kept saying, " I’ll pull you over!”
Mrs. G. and her ass are ambitious—they're dreamers—but they also know their limits. Neither of them had any intention of scaling the wall.
Which was good, because Mr. G. was still urging her to mount the wall when a security guard walked up behind him.
Just what this scene needed: the fuzz.
“How are you folks this evening?” he asked.
They assured him they were fine. Just, uh, trying to make it back to room 114.
With a straight face, the guard pointed his finger to the right of Mrs. G.
“You might find it easier to just use the gate.”
So she did.
And Mr. G, smug outlaw, called her a chicken and made Bawk! Bawk! noises all the way to their room.
Kids, you would have been horrified.
It was awesome.