Saturday, 1:30pm:
I slept easily for 1½ hours and would have continued to slumber peacefully had it not been for the sudden “beep-beep-beep” of my watch’s alarm, which Ed had kindly set for me before he slipped into unconsciousness. I woke to a pitch-dark room and, still half asleep, instinctively reached for the clock radio that would have been on the nightstand on my side of the bed at home. One problem, though.…there was no nightstand. “Beep-beep-beep,” cried the watch, which I had just knocked off the edge of the bed and onto the floor. Suddenly realizing that Ed was stirring next to me, and not wanting to wake him up, I made a diving reach over the side in the darkness… “beep-beep-beep”…and hit my head on the wall!
“Ow!” Not hard enough to see stars, exactly, but still hard enough. “Beep-beep-beep,” laughed the watch as I fumbled with all five of its annoying little buttons to get it to shut up. Ed grunted and rolled over. Hmph. It serves him right! He’s the one who bought me this dumb watch (when I began “training” for the 5K).
The “sport watch” had several modes and functions for measuring and calculating one’s pace and time and whatnot when running. I couldn’t remember how to do any of them, and the watch knew it. I continued pressing all the buttons until it finally lost interest in antagonizing me and stopped. Ed rolled over once more. I fell back against the overstuffed pillows and stared at the indiglow display. 1:30. “One-thirty?” I felt disoriented; this was the second time in one day that I had awoke in darkness and it was befuddling, to say the least. “Why did I set this for 1:30?” I wondered.
Then, in a Dory-like flashback, I recalled the events of the morning and the reason for the alarm: my appointment at the spa(s)! “A world of complete sensory heaven” awaited me, according to the brochure, so I groped around in the darkness for my clothes. I quickly dressed and tiptoed into the bathroom to freshen up. I had thought that I had been pretty quiet, but as I opened the door to leave, I heard Ed mumble, “When you’re almost done, call me and I’ll get up.” And with that, I gently closed the door and took off down the hall toward the elevator.
Now before I take you inside
Mandara, let me first share with you that I am not in the habit of indulging in spa treatments! In fact our couples visit to the
GF Spa last year was only the second time in my life that I had ever visited a spa, so for me, seeing the inside of two of them in one afternoon was going to be a true luxury. I had planned our “real” treatments to be done at
Saratoga Springs because from there we were going to Downtown Disney to see
Cirque du Soleil. This was another part of the “adult time” at WDW that we were really looking forward to; I just couldn’t see bringing our kids to this 90-minute show, considering Billy’s autistic symptoms and sensory issues.
I crossed over to the
Dolphin and found the spa easily by using the handy directory posted inside the “back” lobby. Hmmm. Very posh. Though they were both luxurious, Mandara Spa and the Spa at the Grand Floridian struck me as being quite different. The GF spa had a fresh-Florida-citrus feeling to it. Mandara was more
exotic.
Since I was only there for a pedicure, I didn’t need to change my clothes. So immediately after checking in, I was shown to a beautiful lounge; the
"Meditation Garden". ("Omm"!) There were dozens of well-cushioned brown wicker sofas and chairs with ottomans to relax in; or guests could choose so sit on huge cushions around the (artificial) fire inside a central area that was designed to look like a small temple. Plants, trees, and little water fountains abounded throughout the entire area and restful Japanese-sounding instrumental music filled the air.
I poured myself a cup of ice water that was infused with lemons and limes. Then I looked around a bit and scoped out a spot in which to relax and wait. There were only about three or four other women there, so it was easy. I found a chaise lounge in a corner by a glass wall that looked out onto a secluded portion of the Dolphin’s perfectly manicured grounds. Ahhhh. It was so nice to just sit back on the cushions, close my eyes, and relax!
After about 15 minutes, a young woman came to collect me for my spa pedicure. I will spare you the pampering particulars; but the only differences that I could see between a regular “salon” pedicure and a “spa” pedicure was that the latter was “done in a spa”, and so was priced accordingly! It was, however, very enjoyable and well done, even though the technician was not particularly friendly. (And really, what you are paying for is the environment, which was lovely.) I had a nice little chat with the lady in the chair next to me; turns out she had done the 5K, too. I felt so much better now that my feet were all neat and pretty!
Afterwards, I was escorted back to the lounge and invited to stay as long as I wished. “My” chaise lounge was still available, so I stretched out, put my feet up, and waited for my polish to dry. It sounds ridiculous, but after relaxing for a few minutes, I began to get anxious about being late for our 3:00 treatments at SSR!! Even though my pedicure appointment had been for one o’clock, I hadn’t been called in to the treatment room until about 1:15. It was now after 2:00.
I gingerly tapped a finger on one of my toenails; the polish was still tacky. Oh, I forgot to tell you why this was causing me anxiety. You see; I wasn’t wearing any sandals. I didn’t have any to wear. The nighttime sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, fever, feel better so I could rest medicine must have clouded my thinking and I forgot to pack them.
So here I was, wearing a pair of disposable foam “spa pedicure” slippers and my polish wasn’t dry enough to put my sneakers back on again. I needed to call Ed to wake him and I didn’t dare use my cell phone in the serene Meditation Garden! I needed to get going, now!
I stood up, grabbed my sneakers and my bag and padded out to the front desk to check out. The receptionist looked at me with surprise. It just so happened that the manicurist who had done my pedi was at the front desk as well. “Are you dry yet?” she asked doubtfully as I paid the cashier. “Not really, I’m still tacky,” I said. “And, speaking of
tacky, I am now going to win the Tacky Guest Award by walking out of here in my foam slippers!” I waved my sneakers in the air. “Guess who forgot to pack sandals!” We all laughed. “You wouldn’t be the first guest who walked upstairs wearing those,” the receptionist said kindly. “Oh, I’m going it one better,” I said. “I’m staying over at the Swan!” and I turned and padded out of the upscale spa and into the hallway of this deluxe hotel wearing the bright orange slippers and rolls of cotton wound between my toes.
Up until now, trekking across the carpeted floor of the spa was an easy task. Once outside and into the hallway, however, I soon realized that I had an important strategic decision to make: should I take the wide staircase down the one level to the back entrance (time-consuming, potentially somewhat dangerous) or should I risk the escalator (quicker, potentially even more dangerous).
While I pondered the question, I called Ed to wake him and told him that I was on the way back to the room.
I opted to live dangerously and took the escalator. So far so good, nothing got stuck in the mechanical steps. Now came the more difficult part: I had to negotiate the concrete walkway between the Dolphin and the Swan. The sister hotels are close, but they are not exactly a stone’s throw away from each other.
(You’ve seen this shot before, but I wanted to give the story some “scale”).
The surface of the walkway was rough, and the bottoms of my slippers kept catching on all the little irregularities in the cement. I needed to lift my knees a little higher and step straight down with each step to avoid snagging and tearing the foam. I cautiously made my way along and received more than a few smiles and even comments from other guests I met along the way. I discovered that many people have a penchant for stating the obvious:
“Pedicure?” (Mmm-hmm.)
“Enjoy your pedicure?” (Yes, thank you.)
“Just had a pedicure?” (Uh-huh.)
I was sooo tempted to say, “No, this is the latest style in
Crocs! Just got ‘em yesterday; whaddya think?” But, I resisted the urge to be a smartypants
and just smiled.
I got about halfway across when my phone rang. It was my sister, Eileen, calling to see how we were doing. Gratefully, I sat down on a nearby bench and said hello to her and then to the kids while I picked what was left of the rolled cotton out from between my toes and stuck it in my pocket. The slippers were in a bad way. Should I just forget about it and just go barefoot? Nah, I can’t do that! I can’t walk through a hotel with bare feet!
I kissed the kids bye-bye and put the phone away.
I got up and resumed my high-stepping march toward the Swan. Poof! The thong of my right slipper broke apart and the front half of the sole got folded underneath my foot as I stepped down. I lifted my foot up and brought it down carefully so the sole could straighten itself out. Now my gait looked like this:
Step, high step, flat foot. Step, high step, flat foot. Step, high step…
Poof! There went the left thong!
High step, flat foot. High step, flat foot. High step, flat foot…
This was taking forever. I did the 5K in less time than this!
Oh well, at least the people on the Friendship arriving at the dock got an interesting show.
Thankfully, I made it back to the Swan. Now I was on carpeting again, so walking was a bit less arduous. I slipped into the elevator and up to our floor. When the doors closed behind me, I turned left and took a few steps toward the hallway. All was quiet. I looked to my left. I looked to my right. Nobody was there, so I kicked off the tattered shreds of foam and ran barefoot down the hall to our room! Oh my goodness, was I late….
Next Up: Its dejavu all over again!
Kathy
I can't believe you ran that with a cold!! Yea, Ed,
We deserved it!
After eleven years of marriage, a man will do practically anything if he thinks his wife considers it foreplay. 
laughing: ) that were in the locker room, talking about golf. And there was another dude who looked like a biker; he was all covered in tattoos. He’s the last kind of guy you’d expect to meet at a spa! We talked for a little while; he’s staying here with his family.”
I should be out training instead of inside typing!
But I'm in the camp of needing to have a tidy house before I'd ever let some stranger in to tidy my house! Not that I could ever actually do that. 
