Beach bums, bougie naps & buffet trauma
Woke up to a chef’s kiss of a day — blue skies, beach breeze, and the kind of weather that practically bullies you into being happy. Naturally, it was time to start the day with a feast at “The Kitchen Table”— which should honestly be renamed “The Kitchen Table (And Possibly Everything in the Fridge Too)” because the spread was ridiculous. Like for real, they had everything including sushi and smoked salmon.
Jess, in her unusual chaotic breakfast energy, went for an omelet, bacon, and…stale cereal. Like, so stale it crunched louder than the gravel in the parking lot. She also had a full existential crisis mid-bite when she discovered grapes have seeds. You should’ve seen the betrayal in her eyes. “Why is it crunchy??” Because, Jess. Nature. But why Pete? Why would someone want grapes with seeds when you can purchase seedless ones?
We walked off the trauma on the beach and scoped out the other resorts, which (not to brag, but…) made ours look like Beyoncé in a sea of budget Airbnbs. No hate, but we were absolutely judging the accommodations. Respectfully.
Then came the bougie beach chair portion of the day. Picture this: waves crashing, seagulls soaring, sun beaming down…and me, fully passed out. Nap #1: activated. Jess was unable to enjoy her nap due to the fact that Pete’s snoring was louder than the sounds of the crashing waves. Instead of napping, she read.
After roasting ourselves into two seasoned rotisserie chickens, we went for lunch. The resort’s pizza had amazing reviews, which I can only assume were written by toddlers or people who have never had pizza. 6.5/10, and that’s me being generous. I only gave it extra points because it was warm and edible.
Post-pizza, we hit the pool while listening to Alabama fold Wisconsin like laundry. Roll Tide, baby. The spirit of the Tide fueled our backstrokes.
Then it happened.
Jess got a craving… for a hot dog. We found this adorable little “food truck” (think Pinterest board meets street meat). Was the hot dog worth the 15-minute wait? I’ll never know. Jess inhaled it like a Dyson on turbo mode. I blinked, and it was gone. She claims there were fries. I have no proof.
***Insert Jess’ version here. I wanted a hot dog. Simple, right? And yes, after the terrible pizza we had for lunch, I was a little hungry. Am I the hungry, hungry hippo that Pete referenced… no, we know he embellishes quite a bit. He also failed to mention he ate half my fries***
Full of processed meats and artificial joy, we floated over to the lazy river. On the way, Jess looked at me and said, “I think you got some sun,” which is code for “you are now legally a lobster.” And yes — I felt it. Especially during the shower, which quickly turned into a one-man opera called “AAAAHHHHHHH! MY SKIN!”
After recovering from my shower trauma, we set our sights on a dinner spot boasting a 48oz Tomahawk steak. Y’all. I’ve been dreaming about this steak. Literally. I whispered sweet nothings to a Google image of it the night before.
But first, we made a pit stop at the sports bar to catch the LSU v. Florida game — where we encountered a pack of LSU fans who were already a dozen hurricanes deep by 5 PM. Spirits: high. Volume: louder than any parenting advice my mom’s ever given. They were screaming at the TV like the coach could hear them from across international waters. It does prove my theory that LSU fans are the most fair-weather, wish-washy fan base of all time.
And then… tragedy struck.
We get to the steak place and not only is there a 45-minute wait… they’re out of steak. I’ll give you a moment to grieve. We sure did.
But God gives with one hand and deep-fries with the other — so we got hot wings, football, and more LSU chaos. These fans? Unhinged. At one point, someone started giving play-by-play coaching advice — as if coach himself was phoning it in via FaceTime.
On the walk back, we had an impromptu saxophone concert from a dude who looked suspiciously like Josiah Broussard (his doppelgänger is apparently moonlighting at the resort). Were we supposed to be walking through that area? Absolutely not. Did we turn around? Also no. Jess and I just danced through like it was a flash mob and kept it moving.
Oh, and important detail: we tried playing shuffleboard. I’ll keep this short: lame. HOWEVER, worth it because we got front-row seats to a very drunk man eating the concrete like a sack of potatoes. Thankfully, the scene was quickly taken over by a group of intoxicated nurses who immediately turned into Grey’s Anatomy extras. One yelled “Get him flat!” like we were in an episode of ER and not…next to a shuffleboard court. Sis, it’s not that deep. Get him an ice pack and a Gatorade.
Final thoughts:
Day 2 gave us beach naps, pizza lies, football chaos, and a small saxophone concert. 10/10 would dance through restricted areas again.
