"Remember When Corwin Had the Flute?"

So, the journey to CT went well. Cleared Customs without any hassle, including the dreaded "were you ever denied entry into the US" question that has been haunting me for 11 years now. My flights were mostly on time (10 minutes late from Ottawa to DC, landed early in Hartford. Naturally, the gate was taken up by another plane, so we had to sit - what IS the deal with that? I could see 4 other vacant gates!), and . . . trumpet fanfare, please . . . my bag arrived, too! Pearl (formerly known as G.) was there to meet me, and we headed off into the wilds of Connecticut.

Along the way, we decided that driving an extra 45 minutes (from Meriden to Darien) to have dinner at The Melting Pot would be a good idea. Pearl called her mom to look up the address and directions online, which was very funny. Her mom COULD NOT find it on Google, so was looking at a listing of ALL the restaurants in the entire state! She kept saying it wasn't there (under M), and Pearl kept saying "look under T, for The". Finally, we had the info. Of course, we had missed the exit by this time - Pearl took the exit that I indicated, but then branched into the wrong lane (remembering the "turn left" part of the directions, not the "at the traffic light" part). So, we were on Highway 15, headed towards New York quite by accident. We took the first exit to turn around, and what an exit!!!!!! I have NEVER in my life seen such a sharp turn while exiting a highway! It was almost 90 degrees. Where logic dictated it should gently turn, the sign was there, and we almost met it close up! Pearl managed to turn, and we giggled like fools about the CT urban planners. Finally got to the hotel, checked in, and then headed out for the 45 minute (55 minute!) drive to Darien. It was uneventful, and full of lots of chatter, since we hadn't seen each other in a whole year. We found the restaurant with no problems and were only a few minutes late for our reservation (we had called to check their hours, since a 45 minute drive to discover that the place is closed is less fun than it sounds).

The Melting Pot. "Dip into something different" is their slogan. The ambiance is fabulous (perfect for a romantic date, but also a great place to catch up with a friend, since the booths are so secluded). Pearl and I ordered a cocktail each, and perused the menu. A friend and I used to go to the one in Miami when I lived there, and we usually ordered just cheese fondue (well, it would start that way, but we always got chocolate fondue for dessert) because the whole meal was just too expensive. Pearl and I decided to splurge! The cheese, the salad, the main, the chocolate. All but the salad are fondue, done at your table. Very nice. We chose our cheese (traditional Swiss), our salads, our cooking style (coq au vin - the traditional oil is just too heavy), and would get the chance to choose our chocolate (9 choices!) later. We relaxed and chatted and sipped our cocktails. We ate cheese fondue. We ate salad. We were full. What?! Yep. Too late, I remembered that it is a LOT of food for two people - THAT'S why we used to get just cheese and chocolate. The main course came. We cooked and ate some beef, some seafood. We were very full. We had to choose our chocolate (the original - but we were really very full). We continued to cook the beef, planning on taking it back for the next day (if there was a fridge in the room). The chocolate came, surrounded by strawberries, pineapple, pound cake, marshmallows, bananas, brownie chunks, and cheesecake. We each had a piece of fruit dipped, then a second. That was it - TOO FULL!! So, we loaded up the takeout carton with the sweets and drizzled the chocolate over. Paid, headed back. It was not a pleasant drive.

Pearl and I had eaten too much, and our tummies were not happy. Never a comfortable feeling, I haven't done something this foolish in a very long time (drinking too much? Even that has been over a year). Then I felt nauseous. Really nauseous. We pulled over. I breathed deeply, it subsided. What was this? This had never happened to me before! Twice more on the ride home, I had waves of nausea but managed to overcome them without even pulling over. The last one was the worst, and I even felt dizzy. I just wanted to get into bed. Finally, the hotel.

Once in the room, Pearl brushed her teeth and dropped into bed. My stomach was so sore, and I thought that a hot bath might help. I soaked for about a half hour, until I started dozing off in the tub. Pulled the plug, started drying off and it was all over. The nausea had won. Ugh. Several bouts later, I washed my face, brushed my teeth and crawled into bed, hoping to feel better in the morning. Only to get up hourly to trek to the bathroom. AT least I was no longer vomiting, but it still wasn't fun. And my legs were achy, arms too. . . . . No. . . . . It couldn't be. But eating too much just didn't explain all the symptoms. I had the stomach flu, the same flu from which my son bounced back so quickly the day before (yeah, 'cause he gave ME all the damn germs!!). I started to feel panic - what if I couldn't make it to the course at 9? I HAD to go, that's why I was there (not to mention needing the credits to maintain my board certification).

At 5:45 am, the sun was shining brightly through the drapes that we had forgotten to close as I staggered back from the bathroom yet again. Pearl woke up and asked if I was okay. I replied "Remember when Corwin had the flu?". And Pearl said "what?". It took a couple of repeats before she got it - somehow, she thought I was asking "Remember when Corwin had the FLUTE?". After the initial confusion, she offered to get me Advil and ginger ale. She went to the car to get the Advil, but realized she was out, so she drove to three different gas stations before she found one that was open. And she brought back not only Advil, but Gatorade (5 flavours). She's my hero!

What a way to start the conference. And I did manage to get through the course. Fifteen credits down, eighty-five more to go! (by 2011 - I have some time).