Last weekend I headed to Waco for a Mother/Daughter date over a pedicure and massage, followed by a meet up with a RV full of family members ready to embark on a road trip for Memmaw's 80th birthday celebration.
Equipped with enough snacks to feed an army, and a few fun games to pass the time, we set out on our journey to the Louisiana casinos. Packed like sardines between the rocking chair, walkway lawn chair, couch, and kitchen dinette, we talked over each other so loud between catch phrase and scattergories that passing cars might have heard us laughing without their windows rolled down.
Impressively, we'd made it almost all the way to Bossier City, before our first mishap occurred. 4.5 hours into our 5 hour trip, the RV had a massive blowout on one of the highway side tires. After multiple unsuccessful phone calls, Jan called 911. "Excuse me, we have an emergency! I'm in a RV with 11 ladies and we've had a blowout and have no idea what to do!"
It's about this time Blake chimes in, "What am I? Chopped liver? I'm going to have to hide in the bathroom when they come to help us now!!"
Two dragging hours later, a sunset come and gone, a cop escort for safety, a changed tire.......we were finally ready to get on the road again.
Memmaw managed to "line up all her Mexicans" to win $100 on the slot machines before everyone was ready for bed, and when it was time to head upstairs there was no resistance on my behalf; I had my eye on the ginormous jet powered Jacuzzi in our hotel room.
I slept so hard that night I actually woke up disoriented and yelled at Patrick to turn the T.V. volume down. (Hint: Patrick wasn't there. My only roomie was my Mother.)
The next morning we all met downstairs in our matching outfits and headed to the boardwalk. Since packing into tight places seems to be a talent of ours, we all piled into a shuttle van like a bunch of clowns to just be toted a mile down the road.
It was at this time Jan realized she no longer had her camera. (It would never be recovered.) And as soon as we took our first steps towards the outdoor shopping area, good ol' Jan had blew out her heel to a point beyond repair.
She and Aunt Susie found a new pair of shoes STAT, while we picked out a place to eat.
Dare I say, while at the restaurant Aunt Susie was talking on the phone and said, "Bridgette, look! That guy over there looks exactly like Blake from the nose up." Bridgette looks in the direction she was pointing, "Mom, you're looking in a mirror. That is Blake."
Needless to saw, we laughed at each other a lot.
Momma and I admired the Red River and took a time out at the Shooting Range for a friendly competition in duck hunting at the Bass Pro Shop.
(I think we really would have made the Duck Dynasty stars proud.)
....And tested out some of the home amenities....
Then Dana taught my mom and Blake how to play Roulette at Boomtown, where I managed to get some priceless winning faces caught on film before getting in trouble for using my camera in the casino. Oops.
Saturday night rolled around and after opting out of paying $27 for a tiny buffet, we pulled some tables together at the hotel grill before making our way to the dance floor.
This wasn't just any hotel dance floor.
It was extraordinarily special, occupied with a tone deaf DJ who abused his access to the mic by trying to sing along to the songs like it was karaoke night and a creepy old cowboy with absolutely no rhythm who relentlessly attempted to dance with anyone and everyone, stood without any other purpose than to be a disturbance in the middle of the line dances, and repeatedly walked down to our table while awkwardly pointing at people, then shake his un-groovy thang. TO A POINT OF CLEARING THE DANCE FLOOR, PEOPLE.
"It's like a treat for the eyes and the ears," Jan sarcastically yelled over the music.
"Ya, I can't believe we get to experience this for free. I feel like we need to pay extra for this," I replied.
As if the hotel needed it's reputation of class drug any further through the mud, our table cackled ourselves to tears by making up corny dance moves and showing them off.
As night got late, our crew slowly began to trickle away to seek their beds. Our boisterous laughter may have been traded in with silent yawns, but there was no mistaking where we'd been.
Our boas left behind a trail of little black feathers that could be followed like Hansel and Gretel's bread crumbs.
We'd left our mark on Bossier City.
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