I very much thought the name of this hotel was Fontainebleu, which would make sense because ‘blue fountain’ is a cool name for a hotel and cooler in French, but after my fifth pastry from Chez Bonbon I finally read the hotel name which is actually Fontainebleau. Not knowing French, I assumed this meant ‘blow fountain,’ but it does not, it is actually just a name, specifically the name Bleau, which was derived from the older Burgundian village name Ble, and that is just a fun word to say, especially in this voice:
So really the name of this place is Bleau Fountain and so I give myself half-credit for translation skills.
Yesterday I thought I would try out not wearing makeup or getting ready in any fashion, and I decided that was a bad idea because I could not tell why people were looking at me. One time a woman in Lake Oswego stared at me for a while and when I asked if I could help her, she said I looked like the spitting image of her gardener’s daughter, so that’s now what I assume people are thinking when they stare. But being in Miami, looking Latin isn’t exactly a differentiator, so now I am wondering if they are staring because:
They’re wondering if I am related to the baby I’m carrying
I look like a swamp goblin
Should they rescue the baby from the swamp goblin or is the baby also a swamp goblin and that will be asking for trouble?
That’s all a joke, of course. Carrying around a blue-eyed blond baby who happily smiles at anyone he meets means that no one even notices me, and it continues to be an introvert’s dream. In fact, I have started counting the people who make eye contact with me versus the Baby. So far the tally is:
Me: 1
Baby: Infinite
And I’m pretty sure that housekeeper didn’t want to make eye contact with me, but I got in the way of the Baby and stole that moment of human connection.
So today I put myself together and now that I fall into a mid-level range of looking normal, I am much more anonymous than when I wander around with a face that looks like it either witnessed or completed a murder. But it does reinforce the thing I hate the most about resorts, which is when you want coffee in the morning, you have to put yourself into some semblance of acceptable to the public before you’re even emotionally ready to be acceptable to yourself. The only time I have ever avoided this was when I went to a sex resort on a whim because I read that you did not need to wear any clothes to do anything, and every morning I got coffee without thinking about whether my pajamas were normal enough for public consumption, and truly when you have seen a million butts before noon you discover what true anonymity is. I wish all resorts would have a no clothing before coffee rule, but also implement a yes clothing after coffee rule because it does get tiring after a while wondering if you have a normal-looking butthole and waiting furtively for someone to bend over so you can mentally compare but then it actually happens and you regret everything and just go back to your room and sit in pants in silence until the emotional scars heal (hint: they do not).
I continue to not be in Nicaragua, but I did get to eat a steak with my hands yesterday because the Baby felt we were far too cool to sit in a restaurant, and I forgot to bring a fork and knife back to the room, so basically this is just as good. All jokes aside, as I told his father, a hotel is the best place to be stranded with a baby, because people will cook and clean for you and your only job is to make sure your baby doesn’t die (normal) and wonder what to wear to go get coffee and whether pool water is safe for babies to drink (it’s not and apparently adults aren’t supposed to drink it either).
Also, so far I have found everyone who works in hotels loves babies, as between The Biltmore and now the Fontainebleau, I have never had people be so nice to me. The woman at the gelato shop gave me three scoops of ice cream instead of one because she liked my baby so much, and one of the pool guys even offered to raise my baby even though he wasn’t the father. I’m not sure that last one was entirely altruistic, but maybe he’s just really into goblins and their offspring.
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+1 to not having to be properly dressed before having coffee in the mornings
Seeing people downtown NYC fully suited up at 8 is a pet peeve