My fabulous and wonderful mother is yet again, a contender in the 2013 Mother of the Year award. It's been four years since we last semi-successfully infiltrated the pool area next door at the Hyatt. Way back then, Sophie was a little pipsqueak and we had the pleasure of Meema traveling with us. We thought we were flying under the radar as we were in the pool sipping on $14 cocktails as the sun was setting over the horizon. We were having a jolly good time until we were approached by security and questioned about our existence. Without any hesitation, we confessed that the jig was up (we were probably intoxicated and hadn't any fight left within us) and that we were real losers for ever considering stepping our pinky toes in their pristine pools. So we packed our bags and starting hoofing it back to our hotel. Of course with cocktail still in hand! If my recollection serves me right, I believe Ms. Manners (aka: Meema) told the gentleman that she's been kicked out of finer places than this! This must be where my mother's own feistiness originates from. There's no other logical explanation. Fast forward four years and mama comes up with a clever idea today. Why not wander over to the Hyatt today for a swim and slide while daddy is partaking in a half day scuba dive. Surely we aren't still on the Hyatt's most wanted list. Or are we??? The Glicks like to teeter on the edge of the law. We proceed in bringing the least amount of paraphernalia with us as possible today as we deduce from our last experience that this is where we went wrong. Lugging in a back pack filled to the gills can some times be a red flag! We cooly enter the compound like we own the place. Blew through the lobby to see the talking birds that apparently don't really want to talk at all. Popped into the lobby bathroom to change into our swimming attire and then march out to the lagoon pool as if we were staying in the presidential suite. Mama even decides to hang out in the hammock for awhile just to survey the landscape for any potential moles. We are back at the scene of the crime and having a ball swimming in the salt water lagoon pool and seem to be undetected by the secret service/special forces. We hop out of the pool in search of a bite to eat and this is where we encounter our first brush with danger. As we're being seated, we're asked for our name and then room number. We are in possession of hotel pool towels that we illegally snagged so at this point, telling them that we aren't hotel guests would certainly look fishy since a) we are in bathing suits and clearly still wet and b) we have pool towels that only authorized guests are entitled to. Quick thinking mommy says that we've had a change of heart and are going elsewhere since there aren't enough vegetarian options available. Elsewhere leads us to the lobby shop where we load up on protein bars and Pirate Booty. On to the water slides for the grand finale! We are barely able to find a lounge chair but manage to snag one in the corner. Lay our authorized towels out to reflect legitimacy, reapply sunblock purchased at the lobby shop, chat up the Canadians next to us and then head for the water slide. And this folks, is our critical error. The woman at the entrance to the slide is apparently working for the hotel mafia and demanded that Sophie and I provide her with a room number. Seriously, what 4 and 5 year old know what room they are staying in? All they really care about is inserting the room key into the slot. We descend from the slide via the stairs as she refuses to grant us access and then she proceeds to pick up her walkie talkie. Mama knows all too well what's going down so she instructs us to vacate the pool immediately. Within two minutes, not one but two men in uniforms arrive at our chair questioning, yet again, our existence. We go down without a fight as security escorts us off the property again. we know the drill all too well. As we are questioning mommy about what happened, she tells us that we just got kicked out of the hotel. Sophie disputes it and says impossible because the definition of getting kicked out means that someone is physically kicking your butt. Mama says that when security is walking you out to the property line, you are, without a doubt, persona non grata.




The scene of the crime




Mama feeling very clever for her exploits! On the hammock living la vida loca!