Hello! Welcome to our latest Disney adventure!
Our cast for this trip includes the following people:
Chelley (the ultimate trip planner)
Chicken Girl (Chelley's 6-year-old daughter--a child with "issues" about riding anything REMOTELY fast)
P. F. (Chelley's friend)
Chocoholic (PF's 6-year-old daughter and Chicken Girl's sometime friend--when they're not squabbling over who can color better, run faster, climb higher, etc.--a child with a SERIOUS chocolate milk addiction)
************************
This trip began as a way to get out of hosting birthday parties. (And I am NOT joking.)
My friend, P. F., and I took our daughters to WDW in December, 1999, when the girls were four, and we had a great trip. The girls are just a few days apart in age, and we discovered that the four of us traveled well together. P. F. and I wanted to try the Disney trip again, so we presented the girls with a choice: They could each have birthday parties as usual, or we could forego the parties (which I HATE--I confess!) and take a trip to Disney World instead.
I am pleased to announce that I am not rearing a fool. Chicken Girl jumped on the trip option, and her friend did the same. The planning began!
For those of you who have read my trip reports before, you will be shocked to know this tidbit: I DID NOT plan this trip to death! I have been known to carry a 4-inch binder crammed FULL of information; I am delighted to report that I managed with a 1-inch binder this time--and it had plenty of room to spare!
This trip was our fifth one to WDW in 18 months, so I did not feel the need to do everything or to see everything. I warned P. F. that we were going to try to relax and have a good time; we would do what we really wanted to do and not be consumed by trying to do the rest. After all, it's not as if we're never going back again! So, that philosophy set the tone.
***********************
Day One
Saturday, 24 Feb. 2001
"Getting there is harder than you might think."
P. F. and I had engaged in some frantic phone conversations in the days leading up to the trip. We were appalled by the amount of stuff we were packing, yet we seemed unable to stop ourselves! We determined on Thursday that the town car we had hired to take us from the airport to our resort would not be up to the task, so we modified our reservation and asked for a limo. (Chicken Girl has been fascinated by limousines forever, so I knew that she would be WAY happy about this surprise.) P. F. has a Suburban, so we knew we could get our luggage to the airport; the matter of what might happen beyond that was the worrisome part!
P. F. was supposed to pick us up at noon on Saturday, but she arrived at 11:25. She said that she could no longer keep her child from bouncing off the walls, so she had surrendered. (This would prove to be a theme of the trip.
)It was no big deal, as Chicken Girl and I were packed and ready. The children were just a TAD bit excited.
My grandmother, a person who could have given Emily Post a run for her money, must have been smiling down from heaven on us. Grandmother believed strongly in the principle of "looking presentable" when traveling, and it's a concept that I've never been able to shake. While other people are wearing sweatsuits on airplanes, Chicken Girl and I are always well-dressed. I know it's probably stupid, but it's just one of those ingrained rules that I can't ignore! (Remember this part. It plays a part later in the story. Appearances DO count!)
We departed for the airport. We bypassed our local airports this trip, as we had managed to get really inexpensive fares on Southwest Airlines if we departed from an airport about 150 miles away, so we took that option. We got to the airport entirely too early, but I suppose it beats being late.
Upon arrival at the airport, we unloaded our seven bags to be checked and our six carry-on bags. (I know. A nightmare.) P. F. drove to the long-term parking area to leave her vehicle, while I shepherded the girls into the airport.
Chicken Girl was quite pleased with herself, as she had her very on carry-on bag with wheels. (She got a Disney Princesses one for Christmas.) She was extremely happy to be able to pull her own bag behind her, and she made no small effort to point out to Chocoholic the inferiority of her mere backpack.
I presented my documents to the airlines' agent, and he glanced at my driver's license. I told him that my friend was parking the car, but that she would be inside the building soon, so he could check her ID then. I was absolutely stunned when he said, "Nah, don't worry about it. I have to tell you, lady, you don't exactly look like the terrorist type."
I'm still not sure how I was supposed to take that remark, so I'll assume it was a compliment! Good to know I don't look like a threat to national security! I was further surprised when I got to the security checkpoint and offered to turn on my laptop computer for the agents. They looked at me as if I had suggested a strip search, and asked, "What for?" I said, "Well, I thought you might want to ascertain that it is indeed a working computer." They said, "Nah, we trust you. Go ahead." AMAZING! I must have the most honest face in the history of the world.
We had a VERY long wait, as our flight had originated in Chicago and had been detained there because of icy weather. We were getting nervous, as a huge thunderstorm was moving into our area, and we really wanted to set out for Florida before it hit. Finally, the plane arrived, and we were allowed to board about an hour later than originally planned.
Southwest, as you may know, does not assign seats. It's every person for himself (or herself, in our case). We were becoming frantic as we walked further and further into the plane, but we finally struck gold at the very back of the aircraft. Six seats were arranged so that three seats faced the other three. Two teenagers were seated beside the windows, but the middle seats and the aisle seats were free, so we pounced. I can't describe the looks of joy and exultation on the faces of the teenagers when they realized that they would have the honor of travelling with two small children. Oh, they were psyched; I could tell.
We crammed our carry-on luggage into every available niche, and prepared for take-off. I must admit that I was less than thrilled to be in the seats facing the rear of the plane. Flying to Orlando backwards was an entirely new--and not altogether pleasant--experience for me!
Our flight was without incident, and we arrived at MCO safely. The representative from the limo/towncar service met me at baggage claim and told me that he had subcontracted someone to take us to the hotel. I was a little fuzzy on all the details, but I took his word for it.
Chicken Girl was ecstatic when she saw the white limousine waiting for her. She said, "WOW! This is EXACTLY what ELVIS used to ride in, isn't it, Mom?!!" (Chicken Girl is a BIG TIME Elvis fan! Haha! She refers to him reverentially as the "King of Rock and Roll" and will brook no arguments on his contributions to popular culture.) We got inside the car, and CG said to the driver no less than twelve times, "Hey, I never rode in a limousine before!" Yep, Rednecks-R-Us.
I began to feel some trepidation when the driver started to mutter. P. F. and I looked at each other; we thought he was talking to himself, but we considered that he might be talking to us. Finally, P. F. asked him. He said, "Sometimes I talk to myself. Sometimes I talk to you." YIKES!
He asked me if I would like to stop at Publix, so I took him up on his offer. While I was inside the supermarket, P. F. entered the twilight zone. She told me later that the driver announced, "You two really should travel with your husbands." P. F. asked why. He responded, "Two nicely dressed, nice-looking women like you--people will take advantage of you." Then, he drove off! She was beginning to panic, as she thought he might be abducting her and the children. My panic began when I exited the store to find that the limo wasn't there! He did circle back and picked me up, and we headed toward the hotel.
We had reservations at the WDW Dolphin, and I was a bit confused by the route the driver chose to get there, but I didn't comment. When he asked me if I'd ever gone that way before, I assumed that he was asking a rhetorical question and refrained from suggesting that I'm not sure ANYONE has ever taken such a circuitous route.
As we approached the Epcot Resorts area off Lake Buena Vista Drive, the driver asked, "Do you want to turn off here or go down to the next one?" I had no clue what "the next one" was, and I only knew of one way into the resorts area, but I said, "Hey, you're driving. You decide." (I am helpful, am I not?)
It was only when we drove into the entrance to Epcot that it dawned on me that my driver had NO CLUE about where he was going. He said, "You know, Disney World is a big place. I've only been here once before--with my kids." He was totally incompetent, and a little bit wacky too, but I felt sorry for him. I feel certain that he no longer has a job, as his boss called him while we were circling around the Epcot parking lot--and then hung up on him.
Finally, I abandoned my seat at the rear of the car, crawled to the front, flung myself over the partition, and guided the driver to the hotel. He kept saying, "I am a good person. I am not a bad person. I helped you by letting you stop at grocery store. Now you help me. You are a good person too." It was BIZARRE. He also asked me if I would like to go to work for the limo company. I thanked him politely, but told him I thought I'd keep my day job. He insisted that I should start a Disney-related travel agency; he kept saying, "You know LOTS about this place. You know this place. You could make money."
I don't know who was more relieved to see the Dolphin, the driver or me. But we FINALLY got there, hours later than I had planned. I commented to P. F. that the Rock-'N'-Roller coaster would seem anticlimactic by comparison.
Check-in went smoothly, and we were pleased with our room. It was immaculately clean, and it featured a lovely view of Spaceship Earth. P. F. and Chocoholic had never been inside the Dolphin Resort before, so they were quite impressed. The hotel is beautiful.
We were starving--as it was approaching 11:00 P. M., so we ate at Tubbi's (Thank God for a place that's open 24 hours a day!) at the hotel. When we left the restaurant, P. F. wanted to take a couple of pictures of the fountain in the lobby before we headed to our room. At that point, she realized that her purse was missing. She set out at a dead trot, and was happy to learn that someone working at Tubbi's had found it and held it for her.
P. F. and I got the girls into bed; then, we enjoyed the balcony and laughed about the "Murphy's law" theme of the day. This day was the day that we thought would never end, but we did eventually collapse.
Day 2 to follow--for those of you with the stamina to continue!
Our cast for this trip includes the following people:
Chelley (the ultimate trip planner)
Chicken Girl (Chelley's 6-year-old daughter--a child with "issues" about riding anything REMOTELY fast)
P. F. (Chelley's friend)
Chocoholic (PF's 6-year-old daughter and Chicken Girl's sometime friend--when they're not squabbling over who can color better, run faster, climb higher, etc.--a child with a SERIOUS chocolate milk addiction)
************************
This trip began as a way to get out of hosting birthday parties. (And I am NOT joking.)
My friend, P. F., and I took our daughters to WDW in December, 1999, when the girls were four, and we had a great trip. The girls are just a few days apart in age, and we discovered that the four of us traveled well together. P. F. and I wanted to try the Disney trip again, so we presented the girls with a choice: They could each have birthday parties as usual, or we could forego the parties (which I HATE--I confess!) and take a trip to Disney World instead.
I am pleased to announce that I am not rearing a fool. Chicken Girl jumped on the trip option, and her friend did the same. The planning began!
For those of you who have read my trip reports before, you will be shocked to know this tidbit: I DID NOT plan this trip to death! I have been known to carry a 4-inch binder crammed FULL of information; I am delighted to report that I managed with a 1-inch binder this time--and it had plenty of room to spare!
This trip was our fifth one to WDW in 18 months, so I did not feel the need to do everything or to see everything. I warned P. F. that we were going to try to relax and have a good time; we would do what we really wanted to do and not be consumed by trying to do the rest. After all, it's not as if we're never going back again! So, that philosophy set the tone.
***********************
Day One
Saturday, 24 Feb. 2001
"Getting there is harder than you might think."
P. F. and I had engaged in some frantic phone conversations in the days leading up to the trip. We were appalled by the amount of stuff we were packing, yet we seemed unable to stop ourselves! We determined on Thursday that the town car we had hired to take us from the airport to our resort would not be up to the task, so we modified our reservation and asked for a limo. (Chicken Girl has been fascinated by limousines forever, so I knew that she would be WAY happy about this surprise.) P. F. has a Suburban, so we knew we could get our luggage to the airport; the matter of what might happen beyond that was the worrisome part!
P. F. was supposed to pick us up at noon on Saturday, but she arrived at 11:25. She said that she could no longer keep her child from bouncing off the walls, so she had surrendered. (This would prove to be a theme of the trip.
)It was no big deal, as Chicken Girl and I were packed and ready. The children were just a TAD bit excited. My grandmother, a person who could have given Emily Post a run for her money, must have been smiling down from heaven on us. Grandmother believed strongly in the principle of "looking presentable" when traveling, and it's a concept that I've never been able to shake. While other people are wearing sweatsuits on airplanes, Chicken Girl and I are always well-dressed. I know it's probably stupid, but it's just one of those ingrained rules that I can't ignore! (Remember this part. It plays a part later in the story. Appearances DO count!)
We departed for the airport. We bypassed our local airports this trip, as we had managed to get really inexpensive fares on Southwest Airlines if we departed from an airport about 150 miles away, so we took that option. We got to the airport entirely too early, but I suppose it beats being late.
Upon arrival at the airport, we unloaded our seven bags to be checked and our six carry-on bags. (I know. A nightmare.) P. F. drove to the long-term parking area to leave her vehicle, while I shepherded the girls into the airport.
Chicken Girl was quite pleased with herself, as she had her very on carry-on bag with wheels. (She got a Disney Princesses one for Christmas.) She was extremely happy to be able to pull her own bag behind her, and she made no small effort to point out to Chocoholic the inferiority of her mere backpack.
I presented my documents to the airlines' agent, and he glanced at my driver's license. I told him that my friend was parking the car, but that she would be inside the building soon, so he could check her ID then. I was absolutely stunned when he said, "Nah, don't worry about it. I have to tell you, lady, you don't exactly look like the terrorist type."
I'm still not sure how I was supposed to take that remark, so I'll assume it was a compliment! Good to know I don't look like a threat to national security! I was further surprised when I got to the security checkpoint and offered to turn on my laptop computer for the agents. They looked at me as if I had suggested a strip search, and asked, "What for?" I said, "Well, I thought you might want to ascertain that it is indeed a working computer." They said, "Nah, we trust you. Go ahead." AMAZING! I must have the most honest face in the history of the world.
We had a VERY long wait, as our flight had originated in Chicago and had been detained there because of icy weather. We were getting nervous, as a huge thunderstorm was moving into our area, and we really wanted to set out for Florida before it hit. Finally, the plane arrived, and we were allowed to board about an hour later than originally planned.
Southwest, as you may know, does not assign seats. It's every person for himself (or herself, in our case). We were becoming frantic as we walked further and further into the plane, but we finally struck gold at the very back of the aircraft. Six seats were arranged so that three seats faced the other three. Two teenagers were seated beside the windows, but the middle seats and the aisle seats were free, so we pounced. I can't describe the looks of joy and exultation on the faces of the teenagers when they realized that they would have the honor of travelling with two small children. Oh, they were psyched; I could tell.
We crammed our carry-on luggage into every available niche, and prepared for take-off. I must admit that I was less than thrilled to be in the seats facing the rear of the plane. Flying to Orlando backwards was an entirely new--and not altogether pleasant--experience for me!
Our flight was without incident, and we arrived at MCO safely. The representative from the limo/towncar service met me at baggage claim and told me that he had subcontracted someone to take us to the hotel. I was a little fuzzy on all the details, but I took his word for it.
Chicken Girl was ecstatic when she saw the white limousine waiting for her. She said, "WOW! This is EXACTLY what ELVIS used to ride in, isn't it, Mom?!!" (Chicken Girl is a BIG TIME Elvis fan! Haha! She refers to him reverentially as the "King of Rock and Roll" and will brook no arguments on his contributions to popular culture.) We got inside the car, and CG said to the driver no less than twelve times, "Hey, I never rode in a limousine before!" Yep, Rednecks-R-Us.
I began to feel some trepidation when the driver started to mutter. P. F. and I looked at each other; we thought he was talking to himself, but we considered that he might be talking to us. Finally, P. F. asked him. He said, "Sometimes I talk to myself. Sometimes I talk to you." YIKES!
He asked me if I would like to stop at Publix, so I took him up on his offer. While I was inside the supermarket, P. F. entered the twilight zone. She told me later that the driver announced, "You two really should travel with your husbands." P. F. asked why. He responded, "Two nicely dressed, nice-looking women like you--people will take advantage of you." Then, he drove off! She was beginning to panic, as she thought he might be abducting her and the children. My panic began when I exited the store to find that the limo wasn't there! He did circle back and picked me up, and we headed toward the hotel.
We had reservations at the WDW Dolphin, and I was a bit confused by the route the driver chose to get there, but I didn't comment. When he asked me if I'd ever gone that way before, I assumed that he was asking a rhetorical question and refrained from suggesting that I'm not sure ANYONE has ever taken such a circuitous route.
As we approached the Epcot Resorts area off Lake Buena Vista Drive, the driver asked, "Do you want to turn off here or go down to the next one?" I had no clue what "the next one" was, and I only knew of one way into the resorts area, but I said, "Hey, you're driving. You decide." (I am helpful, am I not?
)It was only when we drove into the entrance to Epcot that it dawned on me that my driver had NO CLUE about where he was going. He said, "You know, Disney World is a big place. I've only been here once before--with my kids." He was totally incompetent, and a little bit wacky too, but I felt sorry for him. I feel certain that he no longer has a job, as his boss called him while we were circling around the Epcot parking lot--and then hung up on him.
Finally, I abandoned my seat at the rear of the car, crawled to the front, flung myself over the partition, and guided the driver to the hotel. He kept saying, "I am a good person. I am not a bad person. I helped you by letting you stop at grocery store. Now you help me. You are a good person too." It was BIZARRE. He also asked me if I would like to go to work for the limo company. I thanked him politely, but told him I thought I'd keep my day job. He insisted that I should start a Disney-related travel agency; he kept saying, "You know LOTS about this place. You know this place. You could make money."
I don't know who was more relieved to see the Dolphin, the driver or me. But we FINALLY got there, hours later than I had planned. I commented to P. F. that the Rock-'N'-Roller coaster would seem anticlimactic by comparison.
Check-in went smoothly, and we were pleased with our room. It was immaculately clean, and it featured a lovely view of Spaceship Earth. P. F. and Chocoholic had never been inside the Dolphin Resort before, so they were quite impressed. The hotel is beautiful.
We were starving--as it was approaching 11:00 P. M., so we ate at Tubbi's (Thank God for a place that's open 24 hours a day!) at the hotel. When we left the restaurant, P. F. wanted to take a couple of pictures of the fountain in the lobby before we headed to our room. At that point, she realized that her purse was missing. She set out at a dead trot, and was happy to learn that someone working at Tubbi's had found it and held it for her.
P. F. and I got the girls into bed; then, we enjoyed the balcony and laughed about the "Murphy's law" theme of the day. This day was the day that we thought would never end, but we did eventually collapse.
Day 2 to follow--for those of you with the stamina to continue!
