I hope everyone had a nice Memorial Day weekend. I got back from Palm Desert (not to be confused with its gay neighbor, Palm Springs) on Sunday. Palm Desert is a slice of heaven. Here's how the trip went:
Scott and I woke up at 4 a.m. on Saturday and caught a flight out of Sea-Tac at 7:30 a.m. I got bumped up to first-class. Scott sat in coach between two fat people. I was happy.
Gramps and Grams picked us up at the airport. We toured their sweet condo, had a sandwich and went to the pool. The weather was an easy 90 degrees with a slight wind. I drank Red Hook and worked on my tan so that Moos could no longer call me "Powder." Scott and I found some paddles and foam balls in the pool and created a game we call "Pool Tennis." The rules of Pool Tennis are as follows:
Rule #1: Don't talk about Pool Tennis.
I would tell you the rest of the rules but that would break the first rule and I would have to kill you.
After Pool Tennis (We're in talks with ESPN 2 about a Pool Tennis tournament) I took a nap. I woke up and Gramps and Grams took Scott and I out to the Elephant Bar, which has a menu as diverse as Red Robin, but it's double the size. At dinner Gramps suggested going to a club called South Beach. Because Gramps is a pimp, we took his advice.
Scott and I arrived at South Beach (aka The-Greatest-Club-Ever) at 10 p.m. The bar had UFC on pay-per-view so we gladly sat at the bar and watched the fights for about 2 hours. We were strategically located near the spot where people, mostly girls, ordered drinks, so we worked our game there and met many women, including a few bachelorettes.
Later in the night, the club got crowded. The girl-to-guy ratio was about the exact opposite of the Up&Up in Bellingham, so we were looking at about 6 girls to 1 guy. It was a gold mine. Jagermeister provided some beautiful dancers for entertainment, too. I was so happy, I cried.
The club had an excellent live band that played contemporary Top 40 music and, in between sets, the DJ played some good hip-hop. "Golddigger" came on and I couldn't help but bust-out my Kanye shoulder-shimmy, which attracted the attention of a group of attractive girls who suggested that Scott and I join them on the dancefloor.
These women could shake what they're mommas gave them, let me tell ya. I had never seen some of the dancing I saw that night. "I've never seen anything like this in Montana!" Scott proclaimed, amazed - all while thinking of his beautiful girlfriend Courtney, for clarification.
We all took some pictures together, got some phone numbers, and then Scott and I headed back to my grandparent's condo. Scott managed to spend $50 on Bud Light at South Beach and was hurting later from all the beer consumption. Sadly, Scott's cell phone was killed in action.
The next morning, I joined Gramps and Grams at their community's clubhouse to watch some tennis and eat donuts. Eventually Scott returned from his hungover slumber and we played another round of Pool Tennis. Then we went back to the condo, packed up and headed out to catch our flight at 7:30 p.m.
On our last day, at the pool, Scott said, "We need to come back here next weekend. This place is heaven."
"We will," I replied. "We'll come back."
Lest we forget Palm Desert.