I Hate Soccer Tournaments

Peace and quiet at last.

Every weekend here in paradise, the hotel fills up with little girl soccer teams. Fayetteville must have a healthy soccer tournament season and they stay here each weekend. Lucky me.

Now when I say little girls, I don't mean toddlers, but those of the young teenager and pre-teen persuasion. The worst kind.

Hearing high pitched voices yelping, laughing, and screaming up and down the halls all evening, slamming doors as they go, is not my idea of a good time. Especially when the noise levels exceed a jet plane on takeoff.

Why is it that parents seem to go deaf to this obnoxious behavior? Maybe that was them down in the bar having a good time of their own.

The normally quiet breakfast restaurant was full of these hungry young athletes gearing up for the day's games.

I took it all in good humor, even when a door knock got me up out of bed to find a shy little lady standing off to one side when I opened the door. "Excuse me," she almost whispered, "Wrong room".

Anticipating a nice long soak in the hot tub, I was distraught to find the hot tub full of giggly, gossip mongers lining around the rim of the tub, feet dangling in the water. They didn't even have the sense to turn on the jets. "Do you want me to turn on the bubbles?" I asked. To which they responded, "Bubbles?"

Oh brother.

So I spent the time I would have spent lounging in a nice warm hot tub wading around in the kiddie end of the swimming pool. The water was cold and when the allotted 15 minutes of hot tub time was more than up for the girls, I went back to my room, unsatisfied. Don't they know there are rules?

But like all good things, it finally came to an end this afternoon as they all said their goodbyes to each other, packed into the minivans and headed home. Thank goodness for small favors.