04/22/2022.
Lynn Murphy Mark
The Gig is up
What I’ve seen of Puerto Rico is lovely. We’re staying in a friend’s condo on the 11th floor, a block from the beach. There is a balcony from which there is an ocean view. Well, there would be a full overlook if it weren’t for the multistory Marriott blocking most of the ocean part.
It hasn’t always been there. My friend who owns this place used to have an unobstructed view of the Caribbean. She is quite annoyed by this. In her mind she has this rule: Because Marriott stole her prized view, the corporation owes her the right to use their beachside pool.
Jackie has followed this rule during her previous trips to stay in this condo. There’s a whole ritual to accessing poolside. First you go to the Starbucks across the street and buy a coffee. While the coffee itself is good, the real reason for carrying the Starbucks cup is to act as if you left your hotel to get a Starbucks beverage and are now coming back into the hotel lobby. Then you saunter through the lobby as if you belong there and head straight for the pool. You grab a courtesy Marriott towel and pick your perch poolside. If you want the beach it is a few steps past the pool. These are our friend’s rules and they have worked fine for years.
So, we got our beach attire on – except for me because I accidentally packed the wrong suit – the one that doesn’t fit anymore…Anyway, yesterday we prepared ourselves to be Marriott wanna-bes. Starbucks in hand we walked in and through the hotel lobby. So far so good!
Jackie found herself a lounge chair next to the pool and I picked a comfortable spot facing the unobstructed ocean. It was heavenly. A breeze, a sunshiney day, and the waves washing in as they have done for possibly billions of years. So peaceful and eternal.
We’d been there about an hour while Jackie sunned herself and I was in some beachfront reverie. Then, unbeknownst to me the following scenario played itself out.
A man from the Marriott police spotted Jackie. He walked to her and politely asked where her wristband was. (What??? Wristband???) Jackie truthfully said, “Oh I don’t have one.” Then he asked for her room number. (Oh crap!) She looked at him innocently and he quickly asked if she was staying at the Marriott. “No,” she replied, “I live across the street.”. Again she tells the truth. He wasn’t having it and he politely asked her to leave.
I was startled by a text alert on my phone: “The gig is up! I’ve been busted! We have to leave.” I stood up and turned around to see if she was in handcuffs, but she was gracefully walking towards me. I joined her and we strolled through the lobby and out the door. We’ve been kicked out of better places was my thought!
We laughed our way across the street back to the condo. We toyed with the idea for the next day for Jackie to wear a different coverup and different dark glasses and we could try to enter forbidden territory again.
As my friend Katie said upon hearing our tale, what we really need is to each wear Groucho Marx glasses. Personally, I think that’s brilliant!