I just got back from San Antonio.
Alan and I went on a mini vacation to celebrate our two-year anniversary. Neither of us had a clue what to get one another, so we took a trip.
So much fun.
Went to the Zoo. Saw some monkeys and turtles.
Ate some Mexican food on the river. Walked around. Ate some more Mexican food on the river. Very good there you know.
And then last night around 11pm the fire alarm goes off in our hotel and they evacuate everyone. I am yelling at Alan to hold on and don't leave I am sans bra and am not evacuating till I get one on.
So there we are, sitting under trees on a rock ledge, in our pjs, with birds pooping on us. But at least I hadn't been evacuated from my reception and can't sit down because of my oh so very white dress. Poor girl. Actually, there were three of them.
We finally get to go in after an hour of watching the firemen calmly and slowly walk into and out the hotel several times. Looking like they weren't working at all.
We have to take the stairs. I get claustrophobic when elevators are really packed.
Did I tell you we were on the ninth floor?
Plus side: We wake up to a letter telling us last night's stay will be reduced by fifty percent because of the inconvenience caused by one of their air conditioners blowing up.
Also, they only charged us for one day of valet parking.