Livvy shared my king sized bed and snored powerfully all night, but I awoke somehow rested at 9am to the sounds of the Easter Egg Hunt Coordinator’s broadcast of the opening of the egg hunt on the beach just 21 floors below our room. The shrill yet joyful cry of dozens of chocolate seeking children was unmistakable. We donned our swimsuits and shorts, and made our way up to the Club on the 22nd floor for breakfast.
The first thing that struck me as I entered the sunny Club Dining Room was the abundance of beautiful 40 something women in plunging beaded cover-ups, Tory Burch flip flops, D&G sunglasses, fully make upped, and sporting copious amounts of plumping lip gloss. It took me a moment to notice the second similarity, namely the identical cleavage each was exposing between their grain silo shaped breasts. I had stepped off the elevator and landed in an episode of the Real Housewives of New York/New Jersey. While several of the men had obvious hair plugs gone very very wrong and an assortment of Tommy Bahama palm tree print shirts, the women were really far more of a sight to behold. They seemed to be exchanging knowing glances as they passed one another at the fruit buffet, daintily decorating their plates with a strawberry or lonely slice of cantaloupe. “Yes,” their eyes said, “we are soul sisters, carry on.”
I was not entreated to any such glances. Perhaps it was my Lacoste polo or tan Bermuda shorts, my suntan lotioned but unadorned face, my Oakley sport sunglasses, my lack of exposed cleavage or cleavage at all for that matter, but whatever the reason, it was clear that I and my pitifully unenhanced breast tissue were not welcome. I munched on my whole wheat toast with peanut butter and laughed hysterically with the kids as they attempted to re-enact scenes from our long airport wait, featuring a hyperactive girl from Indianapolis. I may not be a glamazon, but boy do I have awesome kids.
We found some beach chairs on the white sand Cove Beach, applied sunscreen in both lotion and toxic spray formats, and spent the next 7 hours on the shark tank water slide, the crazy lazy river, as well as the beach and the predator reef. Justin and Livvy tried out an AquaCycle, which looks like an oversized clown tricycle that floats on the water.
At one point midday, I went to visit the Concierge in order to book restaurant reservations for our stay. The lovely Tiffany assisted me and was genuinely sorry to inform me that both Nobu and Mesa Grill were booked solid for the entire week of our stay. Appealing to her sensitive nature, which was obvious from the length of her French manicured gel nails, I told her how disappointing that was, thanked her for trying and asked if there might by chance be someone to whom she could appeal for some help. “I just don’t trust myself at buffets," I confessed, "I just tend to eat so much more than I should,” to which she responded with a friendly giggle and supportive nod of understanding.
Sure enough, Tiffany told me with a twinkle in her eye that she had a few tricks up her sleeve if I didn’t mind waiting. I assured her that I would stand by her until we had succeeded at finding some kind of full service dining solution to “our” dilemma. Solidarity established I sat back and watched Tiffany work her magic, dialing two phones at the same time in an effort to reach the Director of Restaurant Services, a woman named Hope, which I thought promising. Tiffany’s dexterity with the phones was impressive, as was her tenacity. After approximately 24 dialed but unanswered calls to Hope, a young woman appeared from the back office and made some subtle inquiries of the 3 Concierges on duty, finally approaching Tiffany. They engaged in a quick chat in some type of island patois I could not comprehend, but Tiffany was clearly working it. She gestured toward me and I did my best to both avert my eyes, never make direct eye contact with a lioness I remembered from our recent Botswanian safari, and still look terribly sweet at the same time. I don’t know if it was Tiffany’s perseverance, my subservient posture, or divine intervention, but minutes later Tiffany handed me a sealed envelope with 7:15pm reservations each night to the top restaurants at the resort, including both Nobu and Mesa Grill. Oh yes, my friends, she did it.
After dinner that evening, Livvy spent a good 45 minutes redesigning the accessories on the window mannequins at the Sundry Shop, and displayed a genuine dressing talent, see pics. She transformed the erstwhile bald mannequins into chapeau doffed lovelies with exactly the right choice of eyewear to boot. I can only imagine this to be the beginning of a budding prepubescent career as a junior stylist.
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