Early in our stay I peeked through the blinds to check out the particulars of that night's cacophony, what with the yelling and laughing and loud music. It was dark but what I saw was this: one of the women in her underwear, gyrating to the music - I know for certain that she had shed her jeans and I'm fairly certain that she was topless. She would pirouette and her friend would smack her on the ass. The boyfriends stood nearby, talking and drinking, clearly not as enthralled as I was. Familiarity breeds contempt, to quote the Bard.
The next morning I overheard the strip-teaser berating her son and a few of his friends who had spent the night. They were lined up on a bench facing her - 3 little boys. She was laying down the law, this breaker, this shatter-er of all kinds of laws, civil, criminal, and moral.
"I don't know," she said, said she. "Maybe you can get away with this at your house. Maybe you don't have as many rules as we have in our house. I just don't know."
Kids aren't stupid. They do a better job of watching someone's actions than listening to their empty words. I'm willing to bet all of her words bounced off their little foreheads like bullets off a brick wall. I bet they were peeking through the curtains like I was.
I have gotten a lot of gratitude watching the disconnect between what an active drunk believes and the reality of the situation.
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