Saturday, October 5, 2013

I married the worst criminal on the planet

My wife is the worst criminal in the world.
Not that we have ever really done anything illegal, but I know for a fact she would never make it in the underworld of crime.
This became painfully obvious when we went on a road trip a few years after we were married.
Junior was just over a year old and my mother-in-law blessed us by taking the wee one for the weekend so we could have a little getaway.
It was the first vacation we had been able to take in years and the first time we would be away from Junior for more than a few hours.
But we were confident he could handle being with his granny for a couple days, so we packed our bags and ran for the car.
Um, I mean we tearfully said goodbye to our precious child before forcing ourselves to leave our first born as we embarked on our trip where we would miss him dearly every second we were away.
Who am I kidding. We ran for the car so fast the wind of us passing by knocked our neighbour on his butt.
Packing took a matter of minutes, as all we had were two suitcases instead of the dumptruck load of stuff needed to go on a weekend outing with a toddler.
I will admit, there was a little bit of guilt at leaving Junior behind, but fortunately I was able to ignore it.
Our destination was a hot spring resort town where we would have two glorious days to rest and relax.
We were not staying in what we soon dubbed “The Richie Hotel” because we were not rich. Instead, we stayed at a decent hotel down the road that was more suited to our budgetary situation.
Because this was a hot spring town, we wanted to bathe in the natural pools of mineral-laden water. The problem was, our hotel only had a regular old hot tub, so we ventured to the public hot spring facility which was basically a large, warm swimming pool.
It was somewhat relaxing, but not quite the hot spring experience we were looking for. Later that day, we wandered down to The Richie Hotel and saw not one, not two and not even three, but four pools of varying sizes filled with hot spring liquid.
Upon seeing the pools of luxury an idea formed in my cranium: we were going to crash the place.
Sure there were signs that stated for hotel patrons only, but God made the hot springs, so who is man to tell me I can't indulge. Later that evening, we snuck in the side entrance, doffed our jackets and shoes and slipped into the soothing warm water.
My wife was nervous about breaking the rules, but I convinced her it would be fine. She was just beginning to relax when hotel security came by and started talking to people.
When she saw him, my wife went white as a sheet. She became visibly nervous as he came in our direction. I casually asked if they were closing the pool and he said they were just asking anyone under 18 to leave because it was now time for adults only.
What a wonderful idea, I said as the security guy went on his way. 
I looked at my wife and I thought she was going to have a heart attack. She was nervous and stressed and a few minutes later we had to leave because she could not keep up the criminal ruse any longer.
We gathered our stuff and took off like we had just robbed a bank.
She began to breath easier and I realized I had married the worst criminal in the world.
I tried to get her to sneak into The Richie Hotel again the next day, but she would have none of it.
Personally, I rather enjoyed our walk on the dark side. 
The weekend went by way to fast, but it was relaxing, restful and informative as I learned never to involved my wife in any sort of activity that was not 100 per cent above board.

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