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If everything in my world has gone like it should, as you read this I will be on a beach somewhere in Sarasota, Fla., relaxing my head off. I have my husband and his annual sales reward trip to thank for this trip — so, thanks, you two.
I have a few concerns on this trip. The first is pretty obvious — it’s early March, and I have to present myself in a bathing suit in the very near future. I am regretting every Tostito and Pop-Tart as much as they can be regretted, right about now. I have been crash-dieting, after reviewing all the diets I have tried in the past: “Slimfast/Tylenol Diet," the “Tap Water/Banana Diet," the “No Bread/Scrambled Egg/Crying a Lot Diet." None of them work long term, so I have decided to just be myself on this trip — “here’s the condition I am in right now, hope you like it" kind of thing. Also, LL Bean and companies like it are busy in their labs coming up with women’s swimwear that is made of form-enhancing flexible steel, and covers you almost to the knees, while still presenting a playful, “I’m in really good shape under here, dang it!" attitude. So, that and a spray-on tan should get me where I want to go.
Here’s my second concern: the trip will involve a night that every year inevitably evolves into dancing, or “bustin’ some moves" with the other winning sales reps, their spouses, and the bosses. (I am comfortable saying “bustin’ some moves" because thanks to “American Idol," I now talk differently. When someone does something great, now, I like to say, “Man, that was out da box!" like Randy Jackson. Or, say a kid forgets to pull something out of the freezer for dinner as requested, I put my head in my hands and say, “Yo, dog, that wasn’t good for me — no dog, it was just bad." I can also pull out some Simon, and say in my best British accent, “Frankly, your efforts are appalling, and you are appalling, and your family is appalling." I actually don’t use that one too much.) Anyhoo, I will be dancing in a few days, and that’s not always good.
As a dancer, like many people, I’m a snapper. I snap-dance; I keep the rhythm with my snaps. I can snap high, I can snap low, I can even snap around myself in an ever-evolving circle, if that’s where the music takes me. Now, at these resorts, for these types of groups, they like to play a very eclectic mix that goes anywhere from Lionel Ritchie all the way to The Commodores. Now, dancing to “Brick House" in your 40s is frankly thrilling. It is! As you sing along to, “Now she’s a brick….house, she’s mighty, mighty, just letting it all hang out…" and snapping furiously all over the floor, you may be singing this to your husband’s co-worker, his boss, or to yourself if you are “group-dancing" — you know, where the whole sales force is on the floor. Group-dancing is interesting; you can form an inclusive circle, snapping and singing and dancing all together in a frenzy of resort-inspired freedom, or you can just swivel around and dance with whoever you recognize, while still being a part of the larger dance/sales group. You are all usually in the throes of ecstasy because they are playing a song you used to love to dance to, like “Our Lips Are Sealed" by the Go-Gos. Just beware of dancing to anything that has two distinct tempos in one song, “Free Bird" of course being the classic example. First you and the member of the sales force you are dancing with are swaying almost in a melancholy, reflective way to the beginning of “Free Bird," (“If I stay here with you, girl…") and all of a sudden that song just cuts loose! You go from slumping and singing meaningfully about your need for freedom no matter what the cost to gyrating all over the floor, cause, man, you just can’t change! You’ve got to fly right on out of Sarasota like the free bird you are, dog! (Right after your seaweed wrap and reflexology appointment at the spa, of course). So, there’s that awkward second when that song changes completely that you can only pray goes well for both you and your partner Bob from national accounts.
So, I’ll be back soon, and Sarasota will be another fun memory. Congratulations honey, for winning the trip by your hard work. You’re everything a suburban “Free Bird" could ask for!
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