09 Apr Drunk Guys & Iguanas
There are certain dangers that new parents expect to worry about: SIDS, choking, falls, deadly diseases. …Drunk college kids aren’t among them. (At least not yet!). However, in the past two weeks, we’ve had to protect Bronwynn from intoxicated idiots not once, but TWICE.
Location: Key West, FL
Time: 6:45 a.m
The Scene: The first gentle rays of dawn’s light are breaking through the windows of the guest cottage, darkness lifting as the sky takes on a pale blue glow. It’s the first morning of our long-awaited trip to visit my aunt and uncle in Key West. Kris woke up early to go fishing with my uncle Nick, leaving B and I cozily asleep—-me beneath the crisp cotton sheets on the bed, Bronwynn nearby in her crib. I hear Kris get dressed and leave, the door squeaking closed behind him. Not 5 minutes later, it squeaks open again. In my sleepy haze, I assume Kris has returned because he’s forgotten something. I open one eye to see a young man standing at the foot of my bed, sporting khaki shorts and a blue t-shirt. Not Kris’ clothes. The guy is looking around. He has a beard. Kris does not have a beard. I sit straight up and stare at the guy in disbelief, half expecting this to be a dream. The man begins to take his clothes off. This is not a dream.
A little background: Key West is a popular Spring Break destination. We were there visiting Suzie and Nick during prime Spring Break season. Their house is only a block away from the main strip of bars and restaurants. It’s also adjacent to a hotel that has several guest houses where many of the college kids stay. However, Suzie & Nick’s property is gated and secure on all sides by a tall fence. To get in, you’d have to scale the fence.
Praying that this is just a stupid, drunk kid and not a homicidal maniac, I yell “This is not your room! You have to leave.”
The guy stares at me blankly. I repeat, “This is not your room, you have to leave!”
“Are you Ellen?” the guy slurs.
“NO! You have to leave. Let me show you the door.” I approach the door, heart pounding, thinking that if necessary, I can run out of the cottage and scream for help. Thankfully, the guy backs off, grabs his shorts and leaves willingly. I slam the door shut behind him, lock it, and call my aunt at the main house, who calls the police. About this time, I hear a knock on the door. I ask who’s there, and hear “It’s Kris. Open up!”
Turns out Kris had forgotten his camera and returned…He missed the intruder entirely and had no idea why I wouldn’t open the door up for him!
A while later, Suzie finds the guy passed out on a couch by the pool and the police cart him away. Only slightly more sober, the guy is very apologetic, though he’s still confused as to how he got on our property. I hope he had the mother of all hangovers and learned his lesson.
Location: Keystone, CO
Time: 6:30 p.m.
The Scene: In the mountains for a weekend ski trip with my dad, stepmom, and sister, we decide to grab a bite at the local Mexican restaurant. The NCAA Final Four basketball game is broadcasting throughout the dining room, and it’s drawn a mixed crowd of sports fans, après ski party animals, and families with small children who like to eat dinner early. We’re seated at a table next to a television and a pool table. Bronwynn and I have our backs to the pool table, and she’s nursing.
A few minutes after we sit down, a couple guys come over and begin a game of pool. I hear the clanking and crashing of pool balls behind me, but think nothing of it…until the blunt end of a pool cue is shoved in my face. A tipsy ski bum looks at me as if he expects me to move and says “c’mon, I’ve gotta get this shot to beat this guy.” He can clearly see I’m holding a baby and can’t move easily, but he persists. So I reluctantly shuffle over to the side so he can make his shot. Our server sees this happening and tells the guy to leave us alone, and she leans in and tells me that he’s been at the restaurant drinking all day and I should try to ignore him.
A few more minutes pass. Bronwynn is now asleep in my arms while I eat. Again, the pool cue enters my periphery. But this time, it’s poised less than two inches from B’s head. The drunk guy has his arm cocked and ready to shoot, and I yell “hey, watch it!” shielding B’s head with my arm.
Drunk guy’s friend: “Dude, you’re about to bash that baby’s head in!”
Kris jumps up from the other side of the table, ready to intervene if the guy doesn’t back off. Thankfully, he does. But to be safe, Kris switches seats with me, getting B and I out of harm’s way.
The guy lost the pool game.
And, what about the iguana?
As if the drunk intruder wasn’t enough, later that same day in Key West an overly friendly iguana wandered onto the property, frightening the tails off Suzie’s dogs and catching us by surprise, too. Bronwynn wasn’t fazed, though. She thought it was a new pet.