Adventure In The Desert: A Trip to Bountiful

Why do the words 'Check Out Time' cause such great consternation for some and downright dread for others? Am I the only other nerd in the world that repacks everything except what you're going to need in the morning the night before you check out of a hotel? Do you double check your packed item list too?
OK! So maybe I'm a little Type-A personality when it comes to travel, but after you've forgotten favorite articles of clothing, books, toiletries, glasses, or even souvenirs you bought to bring back over the years, you begin to make lists & double check for what you brought and what you're bringing back.
Making sure you remember the important things.
Things like common sense & sanity.

If you've ever worked in the hospitality industry in a major resort or destination area, or if you're a frequent traveler to these types of locales, the one thing you'll agree that people either forget to pack or leave in their luggage back in their room is their common sense, followed by their sanity. We all know who they are, those drama queens and pompous asses for which the room service is too slow, the pool too crowded, the beach sand not white enough, the sea water not blue enough, the check-in not fast enough, the staff not obsequious enough, the weather not 'controlled' enough, and 'You-Don't-Know-Who-They-Are'. I hate those people with a passion, a severe passion. A passion so dark that I go out of my way to add insult to their misery, all the while keeping that sparkling smile on my face and talking to them like I'm 'Mary Poppins' addressing the 'Banks's Children'. I never want to be one of those people and I certainly hate to be around them.

Unfortunately, the absolute worst of these travel offenders happen to be a certain kind of gay man I refer to as 'A-Gays'. 'A' does not stand for asshole (though it should), it stands for A-Listers, the creme-de-la-creme of gay society. They're the type of person that will treat servers-bartenders-pool attendants-salespersons-housekeeping staff-front desk staff like they were their own personal servants, snapping their fingers in the air to catch their attention or make them move faster. They have a sense of entitlement so strong that they are unaware how rude they are because they expect that anyone not of their level deserves to be spoken to or treated that way. They're demanding, self-centered, dismissive, catty, bitchy, and usually more than a little drunk. Maybe it's alcohol or designer drug induced haze that colours their perception of the world? Maybe it's that cocoon of self-indulgence that keeps them from seeing the damage they cause and the tragedies they're perceived to be. I had a 'friend' I used to travel with back in my 20's, he wasn't a true 'A-Gay' more like a 'A-Gay-Wannabee'. Anyway, one holiday weekend we were checking into a hotel he was dismissing as a little too declasse for his 'standards' (an Embassy Suites) because there wasn't anyone available to bring our luggage up to our rooms (and believe me there was a lot of luggage!), but we were provided with a large luggage cart in order to haul our mountain of luggage up to our suite. As we rolled off the elevator and onto our floor we realized that of course our suite was on the complete opposite side of the hotel atrium from the elevators so we were going to have to wheel the cart all the way around the atrium to our room. As we are working our way along the corridor/balcony we notice just ahead of us that our path is blocked by a housekeeping cart that is parked in front of a room that is being serviced. As I comment on that, dear 'Christopher' pipes up with "No worries, I'll take care of it. I speak domestic". I'm cringing already. So 'Christopher' sashays over to the open doorway and yells into the room "El Maid-o! El Maid-o! El Move-o de Cart-o Por Favor! Rapid-o! Rapid-o!". I could have died of embarrassment right then and there! At this point I've reached the cart and I look the woman from housekeeping right in the eye and mouth to her "I am so sorry! I apologize!". She shrugs at me with a smile and gives 'Christopher' a look that would've melted steel as she moved the cart to one side. I pass her, again mouthing "I'm sorry!", and tell "Christopher" to get out of the way and go open the door to the suite. His actions to the hotel staff only got worse over the course of the weekend but that's another story for another day.

So. Back to my departure from Palm Springs.
I was never so happy to get on the road as I was that day. I planned to leave the hotel of social sexual exhibitions, drop a friend at the airport, and spend a few hours exploring Palm Canyon Drive, treating myself to a few trinkets and baubles to put a smile on my face and a spring in my step. For some reason, I really do like driving through the desert & desert communities. Finding the side roads and back-ways before I actually have to get back onto the highway, driving through the windmill farms and the sand dunes, checking out the landscape and the occasional eye-candy. I had a lot to process over the course of that weekend and I really needed to clear my mind and make some decisions regarding life, the future, and where I was looking to go. So with the Go-Go's on the iPod, the windows down and the scents of the desert coming through the windows I was heading back to Orange County. What was in my rear-view mirror was the past and my future was on the horizon. I don't know where it's going to take me, but I'm definitely ready for the journey!