How To - Last Conference Day

Order breakfast.

I greeted the waiter in my pajamas and had him set up the table at the foot of the bed so I could continue watching President Obama speak.

As I nibbled on poached eggs perched atop english muffins and sipped freshly-squeezed orange juice and very-strong coffee, I shook my head with admiration. The man speaks beautifully. This message is sensitive and critical and I was incredibly proud that he was my leader.

I brushed my teeth as I waited for the waiter to return for my table and thanked him again as he departed.

Get Naked.

I left shortly thereafter, wandering across the street and down a staircase to a spa. Tucking my clothes in a locker and shrugging into a robe and slippers, I grabbed a towel and glanced at the clock before heading to the steam room.

Feeling rather proud of the way I gracefully removed my robe and donned the towel without showing much skin, I soon realized it wouldn't matter as I stepped through the door and into misty heat and humidity - the space was filled with naked women.

Placing my own towel on the bench and closing my eyes after crossing my legs, I lifted my chin and breathed. Much as I dislike being hot, I find the spa makes most anything pleasurable and found myself sweating happily for several minutes. I eventually stood, wrapped the towel about my torso and stepped quietly back in the changing room, availing myself of a cool cloth waiting in a bucket of ice.

I sat, back in my comfy robe, in the lounge while I sipped tea sweetened with apple juice out of a champagne flute. I soon followed my therapist down the hall for a two-hour massage and woozily returned to the lounge afterward with a glass of white wine in hand. Finally making my way back to the changing room - a bit unsteady from the lengthy massage and quickly-drunk wine, I stood - sleepy and content - in a shower while I washed my hair and scrubbed the oil off my skin. I reluctantly dropped the robe and slippers in the appropriate bins after I dressed again, took one last look around and wandered out to pay.

Nap.
Returning to my room and feeling amazed that it was already clean, I mussed the neatly-made bed and threw my jeans in the corner. I meant to snuggle into pajamas but somehow found myself nestled into fluffy pillows before that happened.

I dreamed of getting email from people I liked and awakened feeling rather giddy and loved. I was diappointed when no email awaited me - apart from work missives, of course - and refreshed my inbox several times just to make sure nobody wanted to tell me how lovely I was.

Upon realizing I'd done nothing to elicit such a message, I shrugged philosophically, took a quick photo and stepped into jeans again, deciding a walk in the afternoon sunshine sounded rather pleasant. Frowning as I once again lamented my lack of a small bag, I placed items in my pockets and set off again.

Walk.
With a book shop in mind, I headed away from the water and up a moderate incline toward where I thought shops might be. I slowed behind crowds of people, waited for streetlights to change and peeked in the windows at various displays. Perhaps I was residually sleepy, but I found nothing tempting enough to enter any of the stores but perked up when I reached Chapters. (It was soon after Blooms and though I didn't go in, I thought it a charming moniker for a flower shop.)

Wondering if it was escalator-preventative-maintenance week or if Canada implented some sneaky health plan, I sighed before beginning to climb the still steps of yet another escalator. It can't be all that hard to keep those things running, people. Put a little effort in, shall we?

I selected two novels, reminding myself that books get heavy in luggage (I ended up carrying about 10 home from Hawaii) and forced myself back downstairs to pay rather than selecting many, many more. Walking back downhill was lovely - I could see the water and mountains as I made my way back toward the hotel. Pausing to admire random buildings and profusions of tulips, I lifted my face once more to the sunshine before ducking inside and hurrying to my room so I could open one of my books.

Read. Relax.

I started (and finished) my book, turning pages quickly as I moved through a story while afternoon shifted easily into evening. I blinked and stretched again before shuffling across the room to pack the finished novel, thinking wistfully of the shelves back home and missing my Chienne and Sprout and bed and house.

Finally tiring of being alone - it does happen, albeit rarly - I went to the lobby to watch people and have a snack at the bar before deciding to come back upstairs and continue packing for my early flight tomorrow.

Go Home.

My parents will pick me up tomorrow afternoon and I'll go back to their house. Then I, with the animals, will finally arrive at home on Sunday. Lovely as this has been, I am more than ready for that to happen.