Tunesday : Livin' La Vida Loca

Livin' La Vida Loca

(Child, D / Rosa, R) Performed by Ricky Martin

She's into superstitions black cats and voodoo dolls
I feel a premonition that girl's gonna make me fall

She's into new sensations new kicks in the candle light
She's got a new addiction for every day and night

She'll make you take your clothes off and go dancing in the rain
She'll make you live her crazy life but she'll take away your pain
Like a bullet to your brain
Come on!

Upside, inside out she's living la vida loca
She'll push and pull you down, living la vida loca
Her lips are devil-red and her skin's the color mocha
She will wear you out living la vida loca
Come on!
Living la vida loca
Come on!
She's living la vida loca

Woke up in New York City in a funky cheap hotel
She took my heart and she took my money
She must've slipped me a sleeping pill

She never drinks the water
Makes you order French Champagne
Once you've had a taste of her
You'll never be the same
Yeah, she'll make you go insane
Alright

Upside, inside out she's living la vida loca
She'll push and pull you down, living la vida loca
Her lips are devil-red and her skin's the color mocha
She will wear you out living la vida loca
Alright!
Living la vida loca
She's living la vida loca

She'll make you take your clothes off and go dancing in the rain
She'll make you live her crazy life
But she'll take away your pain
Like a bullet to your brain
Come on!

Upside, inside out she's living la vida loca
She'll push and pull you down, living la vida loca
Her lips are devil-red and her skin's the color mocha
She will wear you out living la vida loca
Come on!

Upside, inside out she's living la vida loca
She'll push and pull you down, living la vida loca
Her lips are devil-red and her skin's the color mocha
She will wear you out living la vida loca
Come on!
Living la vida loca
Come on!
She's living la vida loca

Come on!
La vida loca
La vida loca

In my timeline, I'm up to 1999 now; and after some cash-strapped and lonely years, things were looking up - I may not have started livin' la vida loca, but I was happy; the mother of two amazing and loving young daughters, married to a good, hard-working man, we were growing out of the two-babies-tying-us-to-the-house days and just entering the maybe-we-can-have-some-us-time phase of life. This song - in addition to being so fun to dance to - perfectly captures this more free and easy vibe and earns its place on my personal soundtrack every time I hear it.

I wrote before that going to the GIFT Gala in February of 1999 was really the first time that I left the house for the evening since Mallory was born, and the only thing I'll add is that after just barely succeeding in weaning her to a bottle so we could stay out all night, it only took a couple glasses of wine to make me loopy after a year and a half of no drinking. Loca! In later years, we usually asked Dave's sister to come watch the girls at our house when we'd be away over night, but this first time, they stayed with my parents. They told us to take our time coming home - and as this was the first time in months that we could sleep in as late as we liked, we took our time.

I also wrote before that for Christmas of 1998, I was able to surprise Dave with two (nearly free) airline tickets to NYC. The promotion period that I could redeem these tickets for ended in May, and as Mallory's first birthday would be coming up that month, we decided to plan the trip for the end of April (to, of course, be back for her big day). We had enough money by this point to be thinking about a trip to New York, but we also needed to be very aware of how much we could spend - happily, as a stay at home Mom with a fairly reliable dial-up internet connection, I had the time and resources to look for deals. The most amazing thing: At the time, the Waldorf Astoria was doing some renovations and it was possible to stay in a maid's room (with the clear caveat that there was nothing luxurious about the room itself) for some crazy cheap (certainly less than $100/night; maybe even $50) rate. I booked it; even if the rooms weren't beautiful, I wanted to stay at the Waldorf. More on this later.

For that same Christmas, Dave gave me a certificate for a spa day at some chichi place in Toronto. I booked it for the day before we were leaving on our trip, and it was the kind of experience I would never want to repeat. (As an aside, Dave's sister is a registered massage therapist, and I've only gone to her once - being rubbed and fussed over, naked, is just not relaxing to me.) I remember that when I entered the spa, I was told to remove my clothes and put on a white robe and slippers and to begin by enjoying "the waters". I sat wrapped in a towel in an aromatherapy sauna until I got too hot - the ceiling dripping scented condensations on my head in hammerlike splats - and then sat by the pool that I wasn't interested in skinny-dipping in, reading ladies mags until my spa lunch arrived; equally spaced away from other solitary berobed women and their gourmet salads. I was then sent for a massage - awkward in my nakedness, even in front of a strange woman - and after that, to the skincare room. This aesthetician was an older woman with an East European accent with dewy skin, and as soon as I entered, she blurted, "So what would you like to accomplish today?" I was confused by her question and, without giving me time to consider an answer, she blustered, "Did you just come from massage? Yes, that always makes the mind like la de da. Come, come, sit."

She put me in a reclining chair and said, slowly, "What are your biggest skin care concerns?" Now, I was just barely thirty and had exactly zero skin care concerns. I thought hard, and though it embarrassed me to say it, I confessed, "I wouldn't mind getting rid of my moustache" (which was blonde, and thin, and barely there). She humphed dismissively, waved her hand and said, "That you do on your time. I'll give you what you need." And then she gave me a deep-tissue (read:painful) facial massage with various lotions; helpfully putting a list of recommended products in the file that she then carried on to my next procedure.

I had a mani-pedi (which made me uncomfortable, what with my short fingernails and ugly feet), and then I had my hair styled and my makeup applied; every recommended colour and product added to my file. Finally, I was permitted to put my clothes back on, I was handed envelopes in which to place my tips for each of my aetheticians, and though I felt pressured to at least get some decent face cream out of everything on my list, I was relieved to walk out the front door emptyhanded; exhausted and overpainted. Dave thought I looked great, but since we were leaving early the next morning, we had an early dinner and night in.

Fast-forward to showing up at the front desk of the Waldorf Astoria the next day (note: this is my very favourite story about me and Dave): At the time, for some reason, our bank had put just Dave's initials ("DR") on his Visa, and when he handed the card to the front desk clerk, he looked up our reservation, turned pale, and then excused himself. I got really worried that there was an availability issue with our cheapo reservations - obviously, we couldn't actually afford to stay here and I immediately felt like an uppity bumpkin - but after speaking to someone just out of hearing range, the clerk came back, handed Dave his card and said, "I'm just going to apply an upgrade for you here Dr Thompson, and the porter will be pleased to take you to your room." That took a second to register on me, but Dave smoothly thanked the clerk, followed the porter to the elevator and gave my hand a squeeze. When the porter opened the door to our room, it was unbelievable: a suite, all Art Deco chintz and marble, king-sized bed and city view. Dave slipped him a five and when the door was closed, we stood gaping at each other and at our good luck: I would not have been unhappy to have stayed in the maid's room, but naturally, this was even better. (It took me years to become offended with that front desk clerk: He obviously thought it would be wrong to put a doctor in one of the cheap rooms, but we were the same people standing in front of him, no matter what we did for a living. Classist jerk.)

Walking through the soaring lobby of the Waldorf - with its brass and crystals and gigantic flower arrangements - and then stepping out onto the street through its front doors was one of my favourite parts of this trip. For some reason, I don't think we took any pictures, and the rest is just touristing, so here's a brief summary of our (three or four day?) stay: We went up the Empire State Building; went to the MoMA and the Guggenheim; saw two Broadway plays (Night Must Fall starring Matthew Broderick, and Art starring George Wendt; both wonderful shows); saw some standup at Carolines Comedy Club; walked uptown and downtown, took a hansom cab through Central Park, took the ferry out to Staten Island; ate a lot of great food and excitedly recognised landmarks. These are the sorts of things every tourist does in NYC, and I was just happy to be doing them with my favourite guy, looking spiffy with pro-painted toes peeking out of my sandals. 

Okay, nothing very livin' la vida loca about any of this, but this trip was a wonderful reminder that I was more than just a trapped-at-home Mom - I was still young and felt lovely and alive in the world. Things were totally looking up for me and Dave and it was a great time for us to be alone together with our recharged optimism.

Woke up in New York City in a funky cheap hotel

She took my heart and she took my money

She must've slipped me a sleeping pill

She never drinks the water

Makes you order French Champagne

Once you've had a taste of her

You'll never be the same

Yeah, she'll make you go insane

Alright