People work really hard. I mean it, we do. The next time you're at the grocery store, look around you as you're bumbling around on a hunt for that cheese you ate at your girlfriend's house last week. Just check it out. People are furrowed and scowling and focusing on the task at hand. They're gripping their lists, checking off the completeds and hurriedly chasing down the remainders. That guy with four bags of puppy chow? His name is Brian. He's been up since 5 am. He went for a run before work, squeezed in a carwash on his lunchbreak and now, at 630 PM, he's heading home to his wife Tina and their dog, Buster. Buster's out of dog food and Tina's mad. Why didn't he pick it up when he was there last time? Now, the dog's got to starve and whine. Thanks Brian. Can't wait to see you when you get home.
Or, have you been to the gym lately? Walked by an open door to a random, 530 PM spin class? Seen the instructor barking out at the crowd of huddling, sweating, grimacing lycra-clad souls? Have you honed in on any one person's face long enough to recognize their effort? There's Lisa, in the front row. She is fit and she will tell you she's getting fitter. Lisa's in a wedding in 3 weeks. She'll be a bridesmaid for the 7th time in 2 years. She has decided that if she's going to wear another strapless A-line dress, she's going to make it look damn good, even if it is the 8th time around. My girl is working hard for her hemline.
I don't mean to poke fun at this ethic, really. I'm just like Lisa and Brian. I'm the woman beside you on the interstate, fearfully applying lip gloss, yammering into her bluetooth and faking it til I make it, believing that I will NOT be five minutes late, again. I understand. I speak-a-the language. I just think that play is so enormously important to squeeze in there, somewhere. Anywhere. If we strive and go and run and work and wittle outselves down to the carb-free, mundane, motorized version of ourselves, we'll all start to look and, far worse, feel, like the pre-packaged, not for resale versions of ourselves. If we don't keep refreshing and refueling, recharging and remixing the ingredients of our everyday life-smoothie, we'll just fade. I don't want to be another task to be marked off another legal pad. I.Just.Don't.
And so, this is why I'm out here, dear worker bees. This is why I am the queen. I want to lure you, want to entice you and remind you to beautify your life, every new day. I want you to see the color, want you to savor the flavor, want you to listen to my thrumming beats. I want you to know that I think you work it, even when you're not working on it. Our motto, here, encourages our guests and our posse to Stay and Play and we mean it. I mean it. Officially, I'm marking it Christmas in July at aloft Chesapeake and we're giving out the gift of ourselves. Our joy is ringing out all year long. In case you hadn't had your daily dose of inspiration, here I am, right now, to remind you: You only have one life. Let.It.Out.
I'll be here when you're ready to ditch the dozen eggs and the drug store on the way home. Play on, playettes.
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