I could probably write a book about how my mother has complained her way to free nights in hotels by using everything from her room being too close to the elevator to their being a toothpick in her turkey club, but for now we can focus on how her gall bladder got her a free week in the Hyatt in La Jolla.
When I was sixteen, my brother and father were smart enough to opt out of family vacations. I on the other hand was slow on the take. When my mother suggested we visit California, I figured how bad could it be. One Sunday brunch and two emergency room visits later I realized I needed to reevaluate my definition of bad.
It all started with a nice Sunday brunch at the hotel we were staying at. Sybil had a very old world mentality toward buffets. You eat as much and as varied as possible so that you absolutely get your money's worth. If the restaurant isn't ready to go out of business by the time you are done than you are doing something wrong. This means, you start by having a plate of fifty shrimp, followed by a bagel with enough cream cheese to choke a horse, followed by a thin slice of prime rib, followed by an omelet, followed by a dessert sampler, followed by sushi (she ate it because she didn't know what it was). You get the idea. After a good two hours of this, Sybil paid the bill. You don't tip at a buffet right? Needless to say after taking in the sites of San Diego, good old Sybil started to complain that her side hurt. I ignored her until 3 am, when she started to scream that I should call an ambulance. I said, "Are you sure? I'm on vacation." She insisted so I dialed 9-911 and requested an ambulance come to our hotel to take my mother to a better place. Ten minutes later the paramedics showed up and threw Sybil on a stretcher and took her away. I had the option of going with her but figured it made more sense for me to go back to sleep. This is before the days of cell phones so really in my mind I was finally free. I had some visions of turning into Eloise of the Hyatt. No such luck, my mother returned to the hotel by noon the next day. Apparently her gall bladder much like her cholesterol was destroyed by her terrible children. If I had gone with her to the hospital she probably would have been fine. At this point, Sybil went to the front desk and complained to the manager on duty that the brunch was poisoned and caused her internal organs to fail. The only way to rectify the situation would be to give her her money back for the brunch and the previous night's stay since technically she stayed in the hospital and not the room. The manager slightly confused figured it made more sense to just give the money back then to argue with the woman who was still wearing her hospital gown. I sat in the corner of the lobby looking at my shoes wondering what my brother and father were doing at that exact moment.
After Sybil, got her discount on the room her mood drastically improved so it only made sense that we go out to a local deli for dinner. Long story short, the ambulance came at around 2 am this time. I welcomed the EMTs like old friends and watched as once again they took my mother away.
The next day when she returned she went straight to the front desk and told the hotel it was a travesty that she had to pay anything considering how horrible her vacation was. She insisted on a full refund for the week including meals. Not knowing how to respond, they actually gave in to her demands.
We left the next day but not before Sybil emptied the mini bar into her purse and stuck six towels into her suit case.
Sadly this was not the last vacation I took with my mother alone.
She had her gall bladder removed the week after we got home.
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