I want the good life but i don't want an easy ride. what i want is to work for it...

scene I: heroine in a horror movie:
For the first time in maybe ever, i remembered to pack my bathing suit (a result of submitting to a real suitcase and checking luggage) Just back from the hotel pool - olympic-sized, 27th floor, surrounded by windows. At first, I loved being the only one there - no screaming kids. Not a soul in the locker room. Of course, that only lasted until I became convinced that someone was going to kill me in empty locker room.

scene II: heroine in a romance novel. minus the romance:
back in hotel room. showered and content, heartrate returned to normal. Productively working on motorola report. A knock at the door (killer?). Room service. "A gift Miss jessica. welcome back to the morumbi." A bucket of chilled champagne, two glasses, and a wooden box of chocolates now sits on the table at the window. cheers.