Somehow we’d developed the habit of skipping lunch during the trip (the kids were always snacking in the hotel room, and eating a big breakfast late kept Diamondqueen and me going). By Thursday evening, though, I wanted a real meal, preferably seafood.
The night before, S.Hooligan and I had walked two blocks down to McDonald’s and carted back sacks of burgers and Happy Meals to the hotel room. That morning we’d had the breakfast buffet, but now I was ready for something that involved a salad and an entree.
After we’d rested from our hours at the beach, everyone cleaned up and we went down to the hotel restaurant. Our “window table” turned out to be a half table against against the wall of windows that faced the patio, so that we sat in a half circle and could all look out on the boardwalk and the beach.
We’d already placed our dinner orders when I glanced over the drink menu. Suddenly, I wanted something alcoholic. I have about eight drinks a year, usually a glass of wine with dinner or a Guinness. “If you get a frozen margarita with me, I’ll buy,” I offered Diamondqueen. She readily accepted, so when the waitress brought our soft drinks and iced tea, I added to our drink order.
Diamondqueen LOVES frozen margaritas. I’d never had one. I like regular margaritas well enough because I like licking at the salt on the rim of the cup. I wasn’t sure what to expect from a frozen one. To my surprise, it arrived in a thin plastic cup, like a beverage at a church festival. The salt on the rim was pretty skimpy, too. But my first sip was pure love. It was like a margarita ICEE! I was delighted, and compensated for the lack of rim salt by continually putting salt in my slush and mixing it in. (No, I really don’t have a big thing for salt. However, I do like it on watermelon and in margaritas.)
I personally enjoyed my grouper and peel-and-eat shrimp combo very much. As usual, S. had a hot dog (sans the bun) and a few french fries. Diamondqueen and J.Hooligan shared a steak. J. grazed through several pieces but wouldn’t touch anything else. In fact, he said he was “too full” and started in with his my-gag-reflex-has-just-been-triggered schtick, puffing out his cheeks as if he was about to blow. (He’s not kidding when he does this, although it is one of his little manipulations.)
Since S.Hooligan was on the verge of finger painting everything with ketchup, among other hijinks (she especially likes to wipe her mouth on the back of my blouse), Diamondqueen decided to scoot the kids out to the van to bring in a few things she needed. That left me alone at the table with several fat, succulent shrimp and the nicely seasoned grouper. I’d long since sucked up the very last frosty bit of my margarita, so I made do with iced tea, nibbling at the remainder of my meal and enjoying a little solitude as the beach parade passed by outside. It was a lovely couple of minutes.