The Girl Trip Gone Wrong

You know traveling is one of my favorite things and girl trips are my great escape. 99 percent of the time, they are wonderful. Occasionally, they go awry.

Many years ago, 8 girls agreed to go to Florida for a week. Escape! No husbands! No children! This will be bliss.

Two of these women were my very dear friends. Two were acquaintances that I thought I knew, although not well. Two were people I was just getting to know. One flew in from California -- I'd never met her before; I'll probably never see her again.

Eight women in two condos should be easy, right? No. There was a condo fiasco right away. Who had the better condo? Who had done all the work? All I knew was that I was sharing a room with my friend Patsy and we decided that a little vodka and grapefruit would make these conversations easier to deal with. Our other friend was right down the hall but she spent most of her time in our room and on our bed. We were used to our slumber parties; it was the right thing to do.

Then we got crazy. We had this gigantic SUV. When we went out to dinner, Patsy or I would shout, "Bad girls in the back!" The three of us took our spots and everyone else looked at us like we were nuts. (But they let us shuffle to the back.)

Eight women at dinner is a server's worst nightmare. A couple of these women wanted to dissect every glass of wine and the cost of every entree. I was probably the poorest person there but I wanted to throw money on the table and get out.

We all brought beach reading. Patsy discovered "Wifey" by Judy Blume, and she read it aloud to us at the pool. If you haven't read it, tuck it in your swim bag. It can divert the attention for a long time. Do not read it around children.

Somehow that paperback came home with me. I don't know how because I read it for the first time 20+ years ago. The other day, the oldies were in the sunroom and she picked it up. "Is this any good?" I launched myself across the room and said, "This is only for bad girl trips."