When we arrive back to the resort, we are greeted at the front lobby by members of the staff. They offer to check our golf backs in the secured office so we don’t have to haul them back. We happily take them up on the offer. Even without the clubs, we’re pretty wiped out by the time we get to our room.

We shower and grab a quick nap before meeting our group at the steakhouse for dinner. Dinner was a bit later today, but we can afford to stay up later having slept a bit and considering that we didn’t have a tee time in the morning. We only had our complimentary mani-pedis and massages on the agenda and those were scheduled for mid-morning.

We were seated as a group on the balcony overlooking the ocean. The view was spectacular. We were offered our choice of the house Merlot or Cabernet Sauvingnon, neither of which we really preferred. But we went along with the flow and drank the Cab Sav.

I ordered the salad, beef soup and a T-bone steak on the recommendation of others in our group who had eaten here before. The salad was an interesting presentation. The loose greens were wrapped up in a long thin slice of cucumber forming a tight circle. The soup, which I thought would be more substantial, was little more than beef broth. The steak was adequate, filling, but nothing all that impressive.

After dinner, the group decided to head over to the open pool tables in the hotel lobby so the boys could compete against each other. My husband was quite the shooter in his younger days and still takes his games very seriously. My brother-in-law’s girlfriend kicked off her flip flops to wade through the shallow pool and I decided to follow. I’m no more than two steps in and my feet hit a slick spot on the smooth tile and down I go. I crash down into the water, bruising my arm (not to mention my ego), bump my head and destroy my digital camera.

I spend a better part of the evening feeling the embarrassing chill of damp cloth on my ass and being reminded of my stupidity with every tongue in cheek inquiry about the fall. By the sixth or seventh “Are you SURE you’re okay?” I was ready to crawl under the pool table and die. But the boys were tied up in their games of pool and the drinks flowed freely. Eventually my buzz sustained itself to the point of not giving a fuck. My husband wins three out of three games, effectively housing the competition. We call it a night and are shuttled back to our room for a well-earned rest.