Orlando with G (Brightline Round Two)

Took G to Orlando for a conference. Brightline from Miami, both of us this time. She'd never taken the train and spent the first 30 minutes looking out the window like a kid on a school trip, pointing at things (a heron, a cow, a water tower that she thought looked like a spaceship) and the remaining three hours asleep. Her head on my shoulder, my laptop open, Florida sliding past the window. That's her review of the Brightline experience: the scenery is interesting for exactly 30 minutes and then it's a nap.

Two nights at the DoubleTree by Hilton Orlando Airport again. Same hotel as March. Same cookie at check-in. G ate hers and then asked if she could have another one. The front desk gave her two. She has a way of asking for things that makes people want to say yes. I've been studying this skill for years and still can't replicate it. She thanked them with a smile that made them feel like they'd made her day, which they had. G treats hotel staff the way she treats everyone: like they're the most important person in the room. It's not a technique. It's just her.

The conference was the reason I was there. G came because she wanted a weekend away and she'd finished a stretch of work that left her needing to not think for 48 hours. While I was at sessions on Saturday, she was at the pool with a book and a drink and no agenda. I checked in between panels and she'd moved lounge chairs exactly once (her usual sun-tracking protocol) and was about 200 pages into something she'd started on the train. She looked up, said "how's the conference," I said "good," she said "cool" and went back to her book. That's the whole conversation. It was perfect.

The pool at the DoubleTree is nothing special. It's a standard hotel pool near an airport. But G has a talent for making any pool feel like a resort: she arranges the towels, positions the chair, orders a drink, puts on sunglasses, and suddenly a pool next to an airport parking garage looks like a vacation. I came back after my afternoon session and she was exactly where I'd left her, one drink further into the afternoon, the book almost finished. She said "you should skip more conferences and come to the pool." I said this was the conference that paid for the pool. She said "details."

One night we found a Thai place about ten minutes from the hotel that a conference contact recommended. Strip mall, fluorescent lights, laminated menus. The hostess seated us at a table near the kitchen and you could hear the wok hitting the flame every time the chef started a new dish. That sound, the whoosh and sizzle, is how you know you're in the right Thai restaurant. The pad see ew was perfect: wide rice noodles, dark soy, a wok char that you only get from a kitchen that's been making the same dish a thousand times. The green curry had a heat that built slowly and didn't stop. G's eyes watered. She kept eating. She also ordered a mango sticky rice for dessert that she did not share, which she justified by saying "you didn't order dessert so this is mine" which is technically true and also not the point. The whole dinner was about $35 for two people, which in Miami would barely cover two cocktails. We brought the leftover pad see ew back to the hotel room and ate it cold the next morning before checkout, sitting on the bed, which G considers a perfectly acceptable breakfast and I've learned not to question.

The other night we ate at the hotel restaurant, which was fine, and then walked around the outdoor shopping complex near the airport. Not glamorous. Stores closing, a movie theater with a neon sign that buzzed, a fountain that was lit up for no apparent reason. G wanted to see a movie, which we almost never do on trips, but the timing worked and they were showing something neither of us had seen. We bought popcorn and sat in a mostly empty theater on a Saturday night in Orlando and watched a movie like two people on a first date, which is not what we are but which it felt like. G leaned over halfway through and said "this is nice" and I agreed. Sometimes the best dates are the accidental ones in places that don't try.

After the movie we walked the complex. G pointed at things in windows. I agreed with whatever she was pointing at. We ended up sitting on a bench near the fountain talking about plans for the end of the year, trips we wanted to take, things we wanted to do. Those conversations happen best when you're somewhere with no distractions and no agenda. She mentioned wanting to do something for New Year's that wasn't staying home. I filed that away.

Brightline back on Sunday afternoon. We had a slow morning at the hotel first. Breakfast at the buffet (G: omelette and fruit. Me: waffle station, twice, because DoubleTree waffles and DoubleTree cookies are the two things this brand does better than anyone gives them credit for). Then we sat by the pool for an hour because the train didn't leave until 2 and there was no reason to rush. G was finishing her book. I was scrolling through notes from the conference, pulling out the three or four things that were actually worth remembering from two days of sessions. G looked up from her book and said "you're working" and I said "I'm reviewing" and she said "that's working" and she was right so I put my phone down and watched the pool instead. The water was empty. The sun was warm. We sat there for another 30 minutes doing nothing, which is the hardest thing in the world when you're wired to always be doing something, and which G is trying to teach me by example.

G stayed awake for the whole return trip, which she considers an accomplishment and I consider suspicious. She read. I worked. The Indian River section came and went and she looked up to watch the heron again (different heron, same spot, same posture of total indifference). Home by dinner.