Today's episode of the Extravaganza is brought to you by Weekly Jules, a fellow doctor's wife who has been through the joys of being married to a medical resident and could probably warn me about what the next three years are going to be like... if I wasn't too scared of hearing horror stories to ask her about it. Here's a traveling story from Julie:
My husband was a 3rd year med student, I was a fresh college grad, we had only been married seven months, and we were broke. And trying to attend a friend’s wedding in Denver as cheaply as possible...
After driving since 5:00 in the morning, we checked into a dive hotel (saved $10 over the wedding party's hotel) about an hour before the wedding, smelly from a day of travel, and in dire need of showers. Unfortunately, Dave realized he had forgotten to pack a dress shirt. He called the front desk for directions to the nearest mall, which was supposedly out of the parking lot and south about one mile. While he left to get a new shirt (there went our $10), I headed to the shower. But when I pulled back the shower curtain, I found the tub was covered in mildew, the drain surrounded by hair, and, I swear, a dead cockroach was being carried away by a colony of red ants.
So I did what any other suburban newlywed would do, and re-packed everything I could, donned the rest (Dave’s beat-up camo-green jacket and a hat), grabbed the fancy wedding gift, and checked out.
I still had not taken a shower.
I waited on the hotel steps for my husband to return before deciding I probably looked like a vagabond trying to score a free room. So I picked up all our stuff, exited the parking lot on foot, and started walking south, thinking surely I could hit the mall, or at least flag down Dave on the street before he got back to the hotel. Mind you, this was a few years before cell phones hit the free world.
After trudging along for what seemed like two miles dressed like a homeless person, carrying a duffle bag, a backpack, a garment bag, and a wedding gift, I spied police officer driving along the road and started flagging him down for help.
Officer pulled over, and, as I explained my situation, he silently put my belongings in his trunk and told me to get in the car, specifically the back seat. I urged him to swing back around so I could find my husband and get to the wedding on time. He muttered something in his CB about a woman (poor thing was wandering the streets of suburban Denver) and did a quick U-turn. Within seconds I spotted poor, uninformed Dave driving northbound and squealed with delight to Officer. He flipped on the lights and siren and did a U-turn in hot pursuit of my husband.
I saw Dave look back with panic as Officer motioned for him to pull over, then I saw my husband shake his head after making momentary eye contact with him in his rearview mirror.
We all pulled over, I pulled the car door handle, relieved to have found my true love lost in the Denver suburbs and ready to leap into his arms, but the door was locked. Officer got out instead.
“Sir, I found your wife walking southbound on this street. She claims she was looking for you?” Officer was puzzled. Dave was not.
“That sounds like something she would do,” he said.
Officer unlocked my door and let me out. Dave opened his door and let me in, and we enjoyed the rest of the weekend at a Marriott in Cherry Creek.
No, there was no charge at the first hotel. No, we will never skimp on a room again. And, yes, we made it to the wedding on time.