We waited, and waited and waited some more. I was really getting antsy by this point. At 1:10 a bus finally pulled in. I figured, okay, Epcot was close, we may be able to load quick, book it through the park, and still MAYBE get seated. Then the bus started lowering. This of course meant an
ECV had to be unloaded. Then another had to be loaded and then the herd of guests in the queue had to be loaded. By the time the bus left it was 1:23. NOT a good sign.
I decided to try to see what our options were so I pulled out The Plan notebook so I could call Disney Dining with our reservation number and discovered something SHOCKING. HORRIFYING. Downright gut wrenching. Our Dining reservation was NOT at 1:30 as my EMH fried brain cells had recalled. It was at 1:00 PM. My poor fat little heart almost burst at that point. This was a restaurant I had wanted to try for YEARS. And now, thanks to a rusty memory and lousy bus timing, we were going to be arriving nearly an hour past due at one of the most difficult tables to score in all of Disneydom. GREAT BISCUITS A BURNIN!
Reminding myself that panicking was not a productive endeavor, I went ahead and called Disney Dining for direction. The lady who answered was fairly certain that Le Cellier would give us the boot and suggested Le Chefs De France as an alternative. They had several openings left so I advised her I would call back later, but for now, DONT CANCEL MY RESSIE.
The CM who checked us in asked how he could help us. I gave him my info, told our sad story (which may have been embellished with tales of rescuing orphans and stopping a wayward meteor) and then threw myself upon the mercy of the court. He did some official looking computer clacking, stared at the screen, clacked some more, scowled, said Ill have to talk to the manager, grabbed a radio, said hold on and then left.
Now my question is, if you have a radio, why do you need to go anywhere to talk to somebody? But I digress. A few minutes later he came back and said We can seat you, if you dont mind waiting 45 minutes. Mind? DUDE! It would take me that long to schlep my exhausted super-sized derriere over to France and get a table there. I had the urge to give him a bear hug and yell I LOVE YOU MAN! but I wasnt sure how they take that sort of thing Canada.