Y'all gon' give me avocados up in here, up in here.

Will Ferrell: Frustrated Gangster?

Let's review.  I've been recapping my fabulous trip to San Diego with Lauren and left you all relieved that we avoided being a part of any kind of gang initiation or other crime a suburban mama from Michigan might stumble upon in California (although "mama's" are pretty prevalent in gang activity) (usually as fodder for insults) (that are really hilarious) (like, "Yo Mama is so nasty that she makes Speed Stick slow down.") (or, "Yo Mama is so fat that THX can't even surround her.") (maybe gangbangers are just frustrated comedians) (more comedy clubs = less gang activity) (#Kelly@SublurbanMamaforPresident2016).

(I just took a five minutes break and realized I can totally make my hands spell "blood" if I try hard enough.) (But I did need to use one hand to position the other (is that cheating?) and immediately after succeeding both hands cramped and locked into position and I thought, "I can't even blog this because no one is awake to take a picture of me totally nailing this impressive feat of ... hand positioning and if I move at all it is lost forever because my hands are now in so much pain I am never doing this again.)

So, San Diego.  We arrived at the Hilton on Harbor Island at 10:30 p.m. (1:30 a.m. to our poor Detroit bodies) hungry enough to eat a - *GANGBANGER COMEDIAN INTERRUPTION* "Yo Mama is so fat she doesn't eat with a fork, she eats with a forklift."  Yes, GBC, exactly that. Thankfully the hotel bar was still open and the front desk even gave us a 20% off coupon because it was customary we were super hot.

We sat at the bar with exactly the kind of people you would expect in a hotel bar at nearly 11:00 on a Tuesday night.  Since it was nearing closing time, some of these fine patrons had been enjoying themselves for a while when we arrived.  The bartender was really cool about us coming near closing and ordering a meal. Seriously.  I ordered a Club sandwich and Lauren got fish tacos.  (Midwestern Fun Fact: When ordering food in a Midwestern restaurant and you see the word "California" proceeding the menu item, it means one of two things.  Either that item has avocado or that item has sprouts.  When my club sandwich came and it was loaded with avocado, my first reaction was, "Dude, I didn't order a California Club."  Then I realized I didn't have to.  Winning like Charlie Sheen.

The food was so.good.  We were tired and the adrenaline from the travel and excitement over our first hotel was fading and being replaced quickly with a riotous form of The Slaphappy Giggles.  I don't know who started it, but it was probably Lauren.  She's definitely the more immature one in our relationship and way more prone to inappropriate public behavior. (Haha. Sike.)

(I should probably preface this story with the information that Lauren and I completely lost our marbles during the entirety of this next exchange. We lost it in the way one loses it when it is not suitable to laugh and so you lose your mind trying not to laugh and then inevitably explode. It was the most fantastic display of The Slaphappy Giggles in the history of that bar.)(I'm pretty sure.)

The lady at the end of the bar was trying to pay her bill when she realized how much money she drank that evening.  Her main point of contention was the chocolate martinis.  I don't know anything about the price of drinks, but $22 per martini seems like a legit thing to question.  So she asked our Super Nice Bartender (the same guy who welcomed us and our full dinner order at closing time) to kindly review the bill. The Super Nice Bartender kindly explained the cost of Grey Goose vodka, and then kindly explained how many shots of that vodka went into each of those martinis, and when he was kindly finished she kindly informed him she had five kids in college and wasn't paying $22 for a martini that "was clearly watered down.  I drink all the time, and seriously, those didn't even give me a good buzz." After numerous minutes of this sort of reasoning, Super Nice Bartender responded, "I didn't make those drinks, I'm just trying to close up.  Let me get the man who served you.  I'll go get Omar."

This sounded completely ominous to me because 1. Omar is the name of a man who could kick a little tush (not like Marvin or Casey) and 2. this lady was drunk "not buzzed" enough to try and take him on.  Frankly, I was a little excited it was beginning to seem like my life-long dream of being a bystander on the show COPS might come to fruition.

Omar. In animal form.

Then a young, tiny little man came out. He was super cute.  Super cute like a kitten cuddling a baby seal while wearing a top hat.  This was not going to be an even fight. Omar had almost the exact conversation with Not Buzzed Lady as did the Super Nice Bartender, but, being the second time around, my keen deduction skills and math genius started to kick in. This is when I realized that if Grey Goose vodka shots were a total of $22 per chocolate martini, and an entire chocolate martini was $22, then this Not Buzzed Woman had received all her chocolate for FREE.

I anticipated this being the kind of information that needed to be shared immediately, but Lauren convinced me this was not helpful information to bring to a debate between Omar and Not Buzzed Lady for the time being. Instead I settled for a stage whispered, "STAY STRONG, DUDE," just to help Omar out, and when Not Buzzed Lady said, "What did she say?" Omar totally wasted my support by saying, "They are just having a good time."

Later, when Not Buzzed Lady retired for the evening (after paying full price for her beverages and leaving a tip)(impressive, Omar, impressive) we had a chance to discuss the situation in full with Omar.  After a few moments of fairly intelligent conversation based upon our outsider perspective of the situation, Omar looked at us anew and confessed, "Oh, I thought you guys were high."

Then we went to our room where Lauren spent 45 minutes on the phone with Expedia because Quality Inn was refusing to refund any money because they want their customers to become victims of gangbangers who just need comedy clubs I finally went blissfully to sleep on the most comfortable pillows in existence.

The End of Day One of our Great Trip Westward.