Chpt 4 I honestly believe hes never going to get to WDW
Ok, so its the night before Disney. Tomorrow morning bright and early (with added emphasis on early) we will be piling our 50 lb maximum suitcases into the trusty minivan (yes, I said minivan
..and I can hear you snickering in the back by the way
) and heading to the airport. Ah, the airport
..the birthplace of stress. Ive done the math and feel pretty confident that cumulative airport stress will knock approximately 7.6 years off the end of my life. Luckily, I plan to live well into my hundreds thanks to my unorthodox daily regiment of too little sleep coupled with over-snacking.
Of course, we are all excited but Pal Mickey is a complete basket case. This will be his first trip back to WDW since his adoption two years before. Oh sure, he says hes happy living with us but sometimes Ill catch him watching our 2005 trip video and I could swear theres a little glisten in his eyes. I guess we shouldnt be surprised. I believe it was Plato who said you can take the mouse out of WDW, but you cant take WDW out of the mouse.
or was it Aristotle
.I always get those two mixed up.
Pal Mickeys enthusiasm had been tempered a little bit by the news that he was going to have to travel in a carry-on bag. Since he had just celebrated his 2nd birthday a couple of months before, he couldnt travel as a lap child (plus, hes technically not a child.) Purchasing his own ticket was out of the question because hed blown all of his allowance and lawn-mowing money on
Disney Store stock and he didnt want to borrow from us because he already owed us a pretty penny for paying off his credit cards (he got a little carried away on Ebay.)
Since we needed to be to the airport at 5:30 in the blessed am the next morning, it was decreed that everyone who didnt run on batteries needed to hit the hay early. If we could all get a good nights sleep and possibly catch a couple of winks on the plane, there was still a very small possibility that I would not end up looking like a moron for planning on attending
MVMCP that night. A lot of my energy goes into trying to not look like a moron
.obviously I win some and I lose some.
Eventually, the whole clan had drifted off to sleep. The children were nestled all snug in their beds while visions of sugar-free Disney gummy characters danced in their heads. Meanwhile, Tinkshell was sawing logs in some type of kerchief
..which I didnt even know she owned
. Thats about the time the phone rang.
Somewhere along the line, I have been designated as the family member responsible for answering late night phone calls so I scrambled for the phone. There is really no other experience quite like being woken up from a sound sleep by the phone ringing. Youre all fuzzy and disoriented but your brain knows immediately that this is not a good time to be receiving a phone call. Late night phone calls are never good news. Sorry to call in the dead of the night Peter....but Ive just spontaneously decided to give you a big fat raise and I couldnt wait until the morning to tell you.
On the other end was my child-hood best friend from my hometown. He was in the middle of a really tough stretch in his life in which he was battling alcohol addiction and his marriage was completely falling apart. About an hour and a half of listening and encouraging later, Tinkershell pops her head around the corner and announced that if I went to bed at that instant, I might be able to cram in about 90 minutes of sleep before we had to head to the airport. Well, isnt this just perfect? What am I supposed to say sorry you are so devastated about losing your family, but I need to get some sleep so I in a couple of hours I can take mine to Disneyworld.
Eventually, I got off the phone and I believe I was able to squeeze in a good 60 minutes or so of sleep before it was time to get up. It was a quality 60 minutes though.....and if you add in the 60 minutes or so of sleep I got before the phone rang....thats two whole hours of totally interrupted sleep....which is good......because if I dont get my two hours......
On our last trip we had used curbside check-in and that was the plan again this time. Id drop off the family and our bags at the airport and then go park the car and meet them at security. Funny thing, Northwest Airlines doesnt do curbside check-in because apparently they arent a big-boy airline and dont do things like the grown-up ones. So now we are off schedule. The whole family has to go park the car....catch the shuttle....return to the airport....and hope there isnt a line at the Northwest check-in counter.
What do you know.....there is a line at the check-in counter. You should know that....even though Panic Attack is my given name.....it also, coincidentally, a pretty good description of how I behave under pressure. I like to be early. I dont enjoy suspenseful adventures like....oh I dont know....whether or not we are going to miss our flight. Anyway, after an agonizing wait in the check-in line, we get our boarding passes...stow our bags...and are ready for security.
To my great surprise, the security lines werent too bad. Thats a good thing because so far this morning had been like a good ole fashioned bag over the head followed by a punch in the face and my sleep-deprived nerves were getting a little frazzled. Everybody went through the detectors ahead of me without incident. During my turn, they did have to pull me aside so some burly guy could pat me down. It must be my shifty eyes. I think they should have searched Tinkershell since she was still sporting her kerchief and thats just weird. Anyway, now all we had to do was pick up our bags off the conveyor belt dealy-o and wed be home free.
Thats about the time I noticed the large crowd of security people around the x-ray monitor. Boy....looks like somebodys in trouble
.Id sure hate to be that poor bugger. Then they pick up our little black carry-on bag and announce......in a pretty serious voice.....they need to speak to the owner. Nuts! Im the owner
. so I head on over to take my beating. A lady who, incidentally is now wearing her angry eyes, asks me to tell her what is inside. Problem is.....Im not sure whats inside so now Ive got to try to get Tinkershells attention....who is off trying to re-dress the kids after their trip through the metal detectors......all the while surrounded by burly security people who are all wearing angry eyes at this point.
Now Im getting a little nervous. What if Tinkershell is some type of drug mule and I dont know it? It happens in movies all the time. Maybe she has a whole secret life. There could be a concrete bunker under our house, filled with guns and computers, that you can only access by sliding down a pole behind a bookcase. It's not beyond the realm of possibility. What if her name isn't even Tinkershell?
Turns out, Pal Mickey thought it would be funny to hold a fuse in his teeth as he went through the x-ray machine.
Next up: Chapter 5 - Well... they're finally boarding the plane...so at least that's something