Did you know that if you google (it actually pains me to use that as a verb) the phrase "hair of the dog" you will discover there is an American celtic folk/rock band and a brewing company, both named Hair of the Dog? In case you are interested, follow these links, but PLEASE COME BACK!
Band: http://www.hair-of-the-dog.com/
Brewing company: http://www.hairofthedog.com/
Now, when I googled "hair of the dog" I was looking for an illustration of the old hangover cure. What I found confirmed what I already knew; a lot of hangover remedies have been tried but there's not much evidence they help.
Back to our story
We were in NO rush to rise the following morning. There were two queen sizes
If you have never woken up after a night of one too many cocktails, lucky you! I don't recommend it! Let's just say, as we tried to come to life, we decided that investigating the theory, "hair of the dog" was well worth the effort. Oh sure, we had each experimented with this theory with various levels of success in the past. We weren't in that much pain, but if you have ever woken up feeling good after a night of one too many cocktails, you are either still drunk and the worse is yet to come or you need to call the Betty Ford Center immediately. (I don't have that number . . . sorry)
I think it is safe and accurate to say that we, Group Therapy, were somewhere in between feeling good and knowing that it was probably going to get worse. Hair of the dog was born out of that survival instinct that kicks in when you want to prevent something bad or threatening. We only had 4 more days of paradise left and not a moment could be wasted. So what did we do? We started early! But we paced ourselves, ate plenty, drank lots of water, and managed to keep the dreaded hangover at bay. We also needed to face our shame from the night before and experience to "sky infinity pool" during the daylight hours. Samantha packed our little pink cooler, we slathered on plenty of sunscreen, grabbed some snacks and hiked back up the hill to the top of the world.
We hadn't even made it up the first hill when we had to stop and rest. Not only had the alcohol from the night before made us bullet-proof, it had also given us stamina that we were sorely lacking this morning. OMG was uttered more than once as we scaled what felt like a mountain. By the time we made it to the OPEN gate, we were exhausted! We barely found three chase lounges together. (not the ones from the night before because they were taken . . . as were all of the good lounges . . . apparently most of the other guests visiting the sky infinity pool had behaved themselves last night and had ventured out in time to secure the choice chases) Our leftover spot was on the upper deck around the baby pool. No worries; we stretched out on our matching, monogramed (of course!) beach towels and bravely started sipping on a Modelo Light. Sadly, they tasted pretty darn good.
It didn't take long for one of the cabana boys, serving drinks from the cool swim-up-bar, to notice our little pink cooler. You guessed it, not at the resort 24 hours and we have already broken another rule. He kindly pointed out the NO COOLER ALLOWED sign that was clearly displayed, in english, at the pool deck entrance. Stike two . . .
Did breaking yet another rule slow us down? Nope! We stashed the cooler under one of our chairs, apologized profusely, and ordered the biggest, fruitiest, bluest tropical drink on the menu. He seemed satisfied and scurried off to retrieve our order. We were trying to be mindful of just how much fun we could have during the day today because we had reservations at what we believed was a fabulous restaurant that night, in honor of Samantha's birthday. So we sat back, relaxed and waited for the cabana boy to return.
To be continued . . .
Back to our story
We were in NO rush to rise the following morning. There were two queen sizes
beds, so each night, I would take turns sleeping with either Samantha or Charlotte. I can't remember why I was the token rover, but I was.
If you have never woken up after a night of one too many cocktails, lucky you! I don't recommend it! Let's just say, as we tried to come to life, we decided that investigating the theory, "hair of the dog" was well worth the effort. Oh sure, we had each experimented with this theory with various levels of success in the past. We weren't in that much pain, but if you have ever woken up feeling good after a night of one too many cocktails, you are either still drunk and the worse is yet to come or you need to call the Betty Ford Center immediately. (I don't have that number . . . sorry)
I think it is safe and accurate to say that we, Group Therapy, were somewhere in between feeling good and knowing that it was probably going to get worse. Hair of the dog was born out of that survival instinct that kicks in when you want to prevent something bad or threatening. We only had 4 more days of paradise left and not a moment could be wasted. So what did we do? We started early! But we paced ourselves, ate plenty, drank lots of water, and managed to keep the dreaded hangover at bay. We also needed to face our shame from the night before and experience to "sky infinity pool" during the daylight hours. Samantha packed our little pink cooler, we slathered on plenty of sunscreen, grabbed some snacks and hiked back up the hill to the top of the world.
We hadn't even made it up the first hill when we had to stop and rest. Not only had the alcohol from the night before made us bullet-proof, it had also given us stamina that we were sorely lacking this morning. OMG was uttered more than once as we scaled what felt like a mountain. By the time we made it to the OPEN gate, we were exhausted! We barely found three chase lounges together. (not the ones from the night before because they were taken . . . as were all of the good lounges . . . apparently most of the other guests visiting the sky infinity pool had behaved themselves last night and had ventured out in time to secure the choice chases) Our leftover spot was on the upper deck around the baby pool. No worries; we stretched out on our matching, monogramed (of course!) beach towels and bravely started sipping on a Modelo Light. Sadly, they tasted pretty darn good.
It didn't take long for one of the cabana boys, serving drinks from the cool swim-up-bar, to notice our little pink cooler. You guessed it, not at the resort 24 hours and we have already broken another rule. He kindly pointed out the NO COOLER ALLOWED sign that was clearly displayed, in english, at the pool deck entrance. Stike two . . .
Did breaking yet another rule slow us down? Nope! We stashed the cooler under one of our chairs, apologized profusely, and ordered the biggest, fruitiest, bluest tropical drink on the menu. He seemed satisfied and scurried off to retrieve our order. We were trying to be mindful of just how much fun we could have during the day today because we had reservations at what we believed was a fabulous restaurant that night, in honor of Samantha's birthday. So we sat back, relaxed and waited for the cabana boy to return.
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