It's not super often that the Westovarians can congregate in one place. Fortunately, the very last of our number (except for Annie) got hitched this weekend in the beautiful non-nautical town of Steamboat Springs, CO.
Dugas and I were wedding dates for the weekend leaving our men at home and incredibly lucky in Austin, TX. Due to an unfortunate Bowers-Olschner mix-up, our original lodging plans fell through at the last minute. Annie booked one of the few rooms she could find in Steamboat, close to the wedding. We were to call the Quality Inn home for Saturday night.
This particular room had a king-sized bed and a Jacuzzi. Tired from dancing and drinking, and a little happy/sad from giving away our beloved Kevka. We decided to use our hotel room for all it was worth.
I was expecting this Jacuzzi to be in a semi-public pool-type area, and when Annie said it came with the room, I thought at most the bath tub would have a few jets in it. As it turns out, the Jacuzzi wasn't even in the bathroom, but rather set up on a small pedestal in the bedroom portion next to the master bed. The bed itself was gorged with pillows and had posts that wound intricately up to the ceiling.
Annie, I think, associated Jacuzzis with bubbles, instead of air bubbles, she thought soap bubbles. She was perplexed when she couldn't find the bubble bath solution.
"I'll ask the front desk," she said and got on the phone.
The front desk, laughing, said they had never had someone ask for bubble bath before and asked if the little shampoos might work. Annie said that we'd give them a try, and when they asked how many she wanted she said three or four. They gave her five.
The shampoos weren't making great bubbles as she poured in all five of them and filled the Jacuzzi with water, but it was sudsy and passable. We turned the heater on in our room as it was kind of chilly and changed into our swimsuits.
I didn't quite realize what we had done until Annie found the button for the jets and what had been a slightly iridescent tub of water became an aggressively foaming tower of bubbles.
The jets were (quite predictably) injecting air into the mix and causing suds to build and go everywhere. As Annie slipped in a tub a serpent of displaced bubbles equal to the volume of her body slid out onto the carpeted floor.
We could control the foam column by simply turning off the jets, but the button had been covered and lost, and we had to push piles of bubbles away from the edge and against the wall in order to find it.
We received a CD from Kevyn and L.J.'s wedding of what we assumed were slideshow pictures of their love and lives. We thought we'd watch it from our bubble bath. I set up my laptop on the bed and played, what ended up being, just the music from their ceremony.
Now, it is not the easiest thing to rid yourself of water and bubbles enough to touch electronic devices. So we ended up sitting in our mound of bubbles, next to our king-sized bed, in our sultry room, listening to love songs.
It might have been the most (accidentally) romantic evening of my life.