Last weekend the Russian lover and I went to Washington DC. If you want to get away from politics this month, the key is to be anywhere except the keystone state, even the nation's capitol. But we had a good excuse to be there; we had been invited to a customer's fundraising gala. But even if we didn't have a good excuse, we still might have fled our own city for a few nights.
The Russian lover's mother had flown in from Moscow to stay with us. For a month. In our apartment. This had happened before, but the timing this go-round was not ideal. Russian lover was swamped with work and so in addition to being stressed out of his mind he was also not available to serve as translator. Many awkward hours ensued as his mother and I attempted to be social. Then, mid-visit, many large boxes of heavy computer equipment were delivered. It was like having ten ottomans in your livingroom; they simultaneously became things to pile stuff on and things to have to walk around and ultimately just annoying. But the stuff in the boxes is awaiting deployment in a few weeks, and until then they are boxes-in-residence. At least the boxes kept the Russian mother's many pieces of luggage company.
Which is all to say that if sometimes you feel like your home is too small and crowded, just invite your partner's mother to come live with you for a few weeks. Then when she leaves, Voila! You will feel as though you just moved into a sprawling penthouse.
Anyway, our room in DC was epic. I love the sterility of hotel rooms, and I love all the little touches which feel complimentary even though after you paid however-many-hundred dollars the least they can do is give you some fancy soap. Feeling giddy with the freedom of having so many square feet all to ourselves, the Russian lover and I immediately raided the mini-bar. (We had a four dollar Snickers bar, which, in its defense, was a king size Snickers bar and therefore only marked up about 150%.)
The matching robes in the closet, however, were the most exciting find in the room. One leopard print, the other zebra, these robes were specially designed to allow guests to express their creative "wild" side. Indeed.
After returning from dinner, and however much wine, the robes felt mandatory. How could we stay in a room with such robes and not partake? I grabbed the leopard print robe and, thus apparelled, went on the hunt with the ice bucket. After searching every inch of our floor, I informed the Russian lover that there was no ice to be found. He insisted this was a failure on my part, and wrapped himself up in sexy zebra stripes to prove me wrong and locate the ice himself. Running after him, we again scoured the floor for an ice machine before noting the sign informing us that ice was located one floor below us.
It was almost midnight, so we waited for the elevator without much worry that we would be sighted on our little safari. But when the elevator doors opened, out poured half a dozen people. We stood very still; maybe nature's camouflage would hide us even in the urban jungle. But alas, they could not help but notice the woman in a leopard robe to their left, and the man in a zebra robe to their right. Raised eyebrows and snickering ensued: "Whoa" "Well hey there" "Umm..."
Having already surrendered our dignity to the cause, there was nothing left to do but go ahead and fetch our ice.