Hubs and I are going on a small trip to NOLA Friday. These short trips are designed to get us away from the daily strains of our hectic lives and allow us some adult time. I love New Orleans. Some of my favorite words in the English language are,” Welcome back to the Royal Sonesta Mrs. Dowd.”
We do not always travel to New Orleans. One year we jetted off to Las Vegas with some friends to see the National Rodeo Finals. Just in case you were wondering, it is the best place in the world, WORLD, to see good looking men in Wranglers and cowboy hats. Hubs and I hit Downtown after the rodeo. There is a little hole in the wall downtown which serves large daiquiris in yard long plastic glasses. We ask for two. We then enter into the Golden Nugget with six feet of daiquiris between us and start playing slots. While sitting in our high backed stools at the slots, my husband gave a little playful kick to my stool to make me teeter back and forth a bit. I playfully kicked his back a little harder than intended. He then proceeds to kick the fire out of mine but grabs my arm in an attempt to keep me from falling over. The attempt failed. I teetered to one side then slammed into the other side while knocking down all stools on both sides of me. Daiquiris fly into the air and land all over the slots.
Hubs and I are on the floor enveloped in laughter. We thought the whole thing was hilarious until the bouncers walked up to us. Since we shut down a bank of slot machines, I was politely asked to leave the casino. Hubs got his ass tossed out into a back alley.
A few years later we head to Atlanta to see the Razorbacks play in the SEC title game. While in the Shreveport Airport, hubs warned me not to eat the chicken salad. He said he didn’t want to take care of me shitting all weekend. He chose the hot dog. Guess what he did all weekend? So bad he had to get a prescription called in and have our brother in law drive him to the pharmacy.
On another trip to see the rodeo in Vegas we visited Gilley’s after the bull riding. On his way to the bathroom a hooker asked my husband if he was looking for a good time tonight. He graciously said, “No Thanks, I’m with my wife.”
While on our fateful trip to NOLA last year involving my fall during a race, I broke down in the room with my arm in a sling. I was sitting on the bed while he was helping me put on my clothes after assisting me with my shower. I was supposed to be having a good time on Bourbon Street after my race but instead I was having my wounds cleaned. In order to cheer me up hubs said, “Good thing we had sex twice yesterday!”
Sorry ladies, he’s taken.
Think of us Friday. I hope the cavity searches in airport security, emergency room visits, and meetings with bouncers are kept to a minimum.
Thank you for reading my post, and I hope you feel a little bit better about yourself.
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