We've been the official guests in Room 605 at the Embassy Suites for a little over 2 hours now; and already, the police have been here.
Not for us, but the seven screaming girls don't know that.
We started in the pool, where they screamed, and swam, and jumped, and screamed some more. In fact, I noticed that shortly after we arrived pool-side, ever single adult in the hot tub cleared out - stat.
Then we decided to "get a snack" at the manager's reception. That really equated to two pitchers of Shirley Temples, and 2 glasses of Pinot for me. Some chips, some nuts, and lots of glares from old ladies that find young girls in tie-dyed pajama pants repulsive. What made it even better was that the girls were obnoxiously over-polite and the old women weren't sure how to handle it.
Back to the room to open gifts, which the kids' friends were "begging" her to open. Shortly after, the demand for pizza was high and I attempted to order some, but the phones weren't working. That's where the police came in.
When I headed to the lobby to let the front desk know of the problem, the police walked in right behind me. Apparently, there was a 911 call from a vacant room here (a little spooky) and the police responded to that. Not one to miss a golden opportunity, I immediately bolted for the elevator, ran straight down the hall, and made all the girls go to the window.
"Do you see that police car? They're here because someone called and complained that we were being too loud. I talked to them, and they're leaving, but the next time they have to come back, we have to leave."
There's nothing quite like the fear of God to keep seven 9-year-old girls quiet.
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