Episode 14 - Guaranteed Prizes!
So shortly after posting the preceding Mini-Sode, I had the following conversation via text message with my mom.
GB - I posted a new episode…don’t hate me
MOM - Do I need to hate you
GB - It stars your butt - remember the turnstile?
MOM - Did you create any graphics?
GB- Nope
MOM - Okay then.
After reading, she said it made her hurt all over again and gave her an overwhelming urge to smack my father. He of course cried foul and advised the statute of limitations has expired on this particular transgression.
So began my weekend, and what an interesting weekend it turned out to be. Saturday was your normal run of the mill, clean the house type of day. We were supposed to go eat with some friends, so after getting our humble abode put back in order, I hopped in the shower for a quick hose-down.
That decision led me to discover three things.
1. When exiting the shower, you should always LOOK to see where the rug is, rather than just stepping down where you THINK the rug is.
2. A concussion is only “minor” when it happens to someone else.
3. Vicodin apparently makes me extremely entertaining.
Here’s how it went down…or more appropriately, how I went down. When my foot hit the floor, instead of the nice fuzzy, non-slippery rug I was expecting, I instead hit the smooth, flat, slicker than snot on a doorknob linoleum. This would have been manageable if my foot had simply slid a little ways. That would have at least been recoverable. Instead, I had one of those booth feet off the floor, 4.7 on the richter scale, bone jarring, I’m about to die, wipeouts.
My wife witnessed the incident and thought I had injured my leg. (The one that still happened to be ½ way in the tub.) At that point, my leg was the least of my concerns. As I hit the ground, I fell backwards and smacked the back of my head on the door. HARD. You know when they show cartoon characters seeing stars over their heads and you think somebody made that up? Let me tell you, there’s truth in that there visualization.
A variety of things then began to present themselves, dizziness, light sensitivity, nausea, and the most fun of them all, the “Traveling” headache. Although I bumped the back of my head, it was throbbing on the front and side. I managed to make myself socially descent, and then my wife drove me to the ER.
After getting my head examined, (something I’ve been told I needed to do for years) the ER doc told me I had a “Mild Concussion” and gave me Vicodin. He then did the unthinkable by telling me I needed to stay awake for awhile, and that when I went to bed that night, to wake up every 2 hours. Can I just say that these two actions were mutually exclusive. Have you ever tried to stay awake after taking Vicodin? It’s like trying to get the Jello you just molded back into powder form. I don’t remember a lot of what happened that night, but I’ve been told I stared blankly for quite a bit, and at some point left a rather amusing voice mail for my pastor. (Who said had he not seen me at the ER, he would have sworn I was drunk off my rocker.)
And so here I am, pretty well recovered, mostly whole and hopefully coherent. But if something sounds off the wall, just bear with me. I’ll fix it later when I review. Speaking of reviewing, when I reviewed this thread, I see that prior to my mini-flashback, I alluded to the fact that our off site lunch on Epcot Center day would significantly impact our touring plan for day three. Here is how that all came about. Stationed outside the restaurant was a podium with signs stating “Free Walt Disney World Passes! Free Sea World Passes! Free Medieval Times Passes!” Now free is a word that commands attention so we went to check it out.
Turns out it was for a time share in Orlando. The moment they said that, I knew we were going. My dad LOVES to tour timeshares. Not to purchase mind you, but to prove the sales folks wrong. Remember how my dad teaches math right? As part of that whole generation skipping math gene, he inherited the ability to perform fairly complex calculations in his head. (He’s a hoot at parties let me tell you!) Nothing can put a smile on his face faster than getting to the end of the sales presentation and proving that what they just said is not “entirely accurate.”
Over the years, my folks have amassed a fairly impressive array of time share prizes. (Our first ever, family VCR came from a time share in San Antonio.) This particular joint required you to pick your GURANTEED prize when you signed up, so we elected for the free tickets to Medieval Times. The podium man scheduled us from 8:30 AM to 11:30 AM the following morning. They were going to provide breakfast and told us to bring our swim suits to try out the pool. As our current swimming facilities were little more than a concrete pot, we were thrilled at the prospect.
The next day, we left bright and early and headed over the resort. Breakfast was buffet style and the best we had the whole trip. While the grownups watched a video on the joys of timeshare ownership, we young’uns suited up and hit the pool. It was a REALLY nice pool too. What impressed me the most was that they actually had a guy poolside playing a Caribbean steel drum. (One of the few times I’ve actually heard one live.)
After our swim, we re-joined our parents and our official resort guide (a.k.a. Sales Dude) and headed off in one of those Fantasy Island, extended cab golf carts. Pete and I of course spent the entire journey yelling “De plane boss, de plane!” We journeyed all around the property and then went to see our “Future Unit”. We really hammed it up too, picking out “our rooms” and commenting on every little detail. We also confused our guide greatly by introducing Pete (who if you recall is Asian) as my twin brother.
Finally it was time to head back to the office to “run some numbers”. We all smiled knowingly, because we knew what was coming next. After spending quite a bit of time embellishing the benefits of buying into our “Future Unit”, our salesman finally came up with a figure that we were “sure to agree” was and absolute bargain and even cheaper than regular vacationing.
That was my dad’s cue, the moment he had been waiting for. He leaned forward, tapped the desk looked over his glasses at the paper and said “Well, actually, that number is not quite right.” Sales Dude countered, “Oh I assure, we’ve double checked these numbers.” To which my father, having properly laid the bait and waited on a strike, proceeded to set the hook. He leaned back and replied, "Yes, but financed over X number of years at Y percent interest compounded annually, added to the annual maintenance fee and application fee brings the total price to: $$$, which divided over X number of years in the contract comes to $$ per year which when divided by the maximum allowed nights per year comes out to $ per night which is Z times higher than the staying in hotel T.” By this time, Sales Dude’s jaw was near his knees. My dad then gave the desk a little knock and said “Well, if you’ll go get our tickets, we’ll be on our way.” Having thus fully dispatched and field dressed his prey, Dad crossed his arms and grinned like the Cheshire Cat.
Sales Dude then excused himself and went to fetch our prizes. This not being my dad’s first rodeo, he knew that Sales Dude would not actually come back with tickets, but instead would send in Manager Guy. Before long, Manager Guy came confidently strolling in and shook everyone’s hand. If you were in Orlando in 1990 and were unable to buy hair gel or Polo Cologne, you can blame Manager Guy. I think he bought up the city’s entire supply.
Having introduced himself to the Biscuit clan, he started by saying “I understand there was some confusion about the sales price of your “Future Unit.” Dad, smiled and said, ”There sure was, you really ought to re-train that guy.” The battle was on. We watched as they went back and forth for a few minutes and finally my dad asked for piece of paper. I knew at that point the end would be near. After proving on paper that he was indeed correct, my Dad again repeated his favorite time share line. “Well, if you’ll go get our prize, we’ll be on our way”.
Up until this point Manager Guy had kept his cool, but his color had been slowly changing during the written portion of the lesson. It was at this point that he lost his cool and virtually shouted “This will be the last time you EVER get to participate in a time share sales presentation in the state of Florida. We are putting you on a banned list and you will never again have this opportunity. To which my dad replied, “Oh, that’s okay, I’ve seen about all I want to see anyway.” Manager Guy wasn’t sure how to respond to that, and left. A few min later he brought us our four tickets and told us he had just added us to the blacklist and we shouldn’t bother trying to sing up for another time share tour anywhere in the state of Florida.
We thanked him and hit to road, tickets to that night’s entertainment in hand. As it would turn out, Manager Guy apparently put my parents on the wrong list. Not only were they invited to DOZENS of other time shares in Florida in the months after that trip, but they received multiple invitations back to the same resort.
We all packed back into the van-boat, gave Pop accolades for his superior mathematical prowess, and headed off to meet our kinfolks for lunch. I was pretty excited about getting to head to Medieval Times that night. Unfortunately in my excitement, I had one MINOR lapse in memory which would threaten to not only ruin the night, but also to end our entire trip.
Coming up on Episode 15 - WARNING! Visiting the OTHER Castle may be hazardous to your health!
If not, well, I'll try to feel dumb as I lounge in our two-bedroom at the Boardwalk in April......
Good thing Leo was both a good eater and good sleeper from Day 1. 
Love it!
Dh stepped off the back of his truck last week and tore a calf muscle and fractured his fibula. Two ER visits later...he still has to wait till tomorrow to see the orthopedist. Good times!
