Chapter Five I was at 80s night?
I almost forgot about this whole thing. I dont know how it could have possibly slipped my mind! The DIS adults were supposed to all meet but I think the only ones I bumped into were Kerry and Taeja the same ones we bumped into at Palo. Good thing they already knew I was a lush by this point, or it could have been very embarrassing. What am I talking about they dragged us all up on stage to do the Robert Palmer Addicted to Love dance, how could it get any worse than that?
Oh, as a warning, all of the photos taken that night looked pretty much exactly like what I was seeing with my own two eyes. A little fuzzy, a little warped, a little confused. So if youre ever wondering what it is like to have too much alcohol at Palos and then go dancing afterwards, just have a peek at the pictures:
80s night was a blast and it makes me wonder why we never went to Wavebands last year
.the entertainment staff was AWESOME, and not only did they do an incredible rendition of the Billy Jean and Thriller dances (you know
..back before Michael Jackson turned into an alien), but they put on a really fun stage show that remained JUST on the right side of tacky and humiliating.
We stayed for almost the entire thing, but then they started giving away free booze and thankfully I still had enough of my wits about me to know that another drink in me would not be pretty. We stumbled back to the room and slept the sleep of death.
The next morning, I found out that this poor soul had not been as lucky
.
Fast forward 7 hours to
Castaway Cay day, otherwise known as the day that room service arrived 10 minutes before our wake-up call. Theres something about a knock at the door jarring you from sleep that sends a shiver up my spine; always has. Its even worse when youre not dressed, you have no idea where you put your clothes from the night before, and your husband is somehow managing to sleep through the whole thing. I nudged him, not-so-gently. Babe, room service is here! He said well answer the door! I cant, Im naked!
Yes, Erica. SO IS YOUR HUSBAND.
Fortunately he was just groggy enough to think that I was making perfect sense in asking HIM to get up and find his clothes instead, a daunting task for a man who is married to a woman like me
.as I tend to put things away in places he would never think to look for them. Like oh, say, THE DRAWERS or THE CLOSET. Where are my boxers? In the closet, I answer for some reason. I was tired, I got confused. No wait! The drawer!
This seemed to go on for hours, but in actuality it was more like 30 seconds.
Lionel dressed, opened the door, and then let the attendant into the room where his wife was laying on the bed naked. I guess thats what I get for putting him to work at this ungodly hour. I managed to pull the covers up to my armpits before the gentleman came into view but I was acutely aware of my bare shoulders and arms and turned as red as I had in the rasul waiting area.
Remember: there is no sex at Disney. I felt like I was scarring this poor man for life. I know get a grip.
Lionel plopped back into bed, but I was too alert by this point to sleep anymore. I lay there until Mickey called 10 minutes later. He called us LATE. What, is the mouse on island time too? Didnt he know I needed pictures of the boat docking at the Cay? Sheesh. No tip for Mickey.
As Lionel slept it off, I dressed (I DID have clothes, all this time
..) and made the same exact mistake I had made the previous morning. Yes, for the second day in a row I barged in to the Beach Blanket Buffet before it had opened. Curses to the back staircase! (As an aside, the next day I would have made the same mistake again if not for the fact that someone had closed the door to the back stairs hallway. Guess they got tired of seeing my mug every morning, eh?) As I sheepishly ducked out the back and up to deck 10, I noticed two other ladies who had obviously come in the way I had. Except they were SNACKING on buffet food and talking the ear off of one of the poor servers who was trying to get the place ready to open. I shot him a look as if to say can you imagine the nerve of some people?
I grabbed my hangover coke (ginger chews in pocket, savvy?) and headed back to deck 7 to stand out on the secret overlook. There were two other gentleman sharing the secret as we backed in to the dock. I stepped closer to the edge to get my camera ready when suddenly a shirtless hairy man popped up from the adjoining balcony and said HEY THERE, which scared the living crap out of me.
Gah! I didnt need to see that before 8 am! I tried to cover up my horror and force a smile as I pretended to focus the camera, but he looked just like the guy who had left the rasul room before us on Nassau day, and I couldnt get that picture out of my mind. So, I fled like a little girl back to the safety of our veranda.
By then Lionel was awake, and I dragged him out of the bed squealing the Flying Dutchman, the Flying Dutchman! On to the balcony we went, where I pointed to it as if my husband were some idiot who did not know the Flying Dutchman from that barnacle-encrusted movie prop ship that was parked right next to our side of the boat. LOOK! LOOK! THERE IT IS! *point* *point* *point*
Yeah, no s - - -, Sherlock.
Lionel called next door to Steve and Aprils room while I bounced around, continuing to chant the name of the boat and take picture after picture from THE SAME EXACT SPOT on our veranda. Steve pops out onto his balcony to peek, shirtless, and Im thinking what is it with you people? Put some clothes on!
Thank you, Disney, for putting solid walls between the verandas. No really. Thank you.
Our stingray excursion was at 10, but we wanted to get on to the island with time to spare so Lionel and I popped back up the the BBB (note: it was OPEN this time, go me) to grab a banana each for the road, and a single chocolate Mickey waffle for posterity. We met Steve and April back in the rooms, and headed down to the gangway.
I was hoping to see Jack Sparrow before our excursion but there were no pirates to be seen. There was only the Flying Dutchman, now at a different angle, which warranted several more photos to be taken. We took a leisurely stroll towards the beaches, opting not to go on the tram, thus allowing for still more photo ops with the boat. I didnt really count how many times we ended up stopping, but I think it was somewhere close to 52. Ok. 53. 54! Sheesh, dont give me the third degree!
This one was definitely the best, for which Lionel gets the credit:
Though this one is a close second, because were so darned cute:
By the time we got to Mount Rustmore we were regretting leaving the tram behind, but still we trudged on to the stingray encounter. Which, by the way, was GREAT. We dont have anything else to compare it to apart from Sea World, but I have to say there is something frighteningly cool about standing in knee-deep water and being pushed around by rays as they swim by.
We listened to the spiel, and then got in the water. The lady put up the feeding platform and started passing around some calamari and restaurant-grade shrimp. I remembered that the main education lady had said a few of the rays escaped out into the sea during a recent storm and had not come back, and I pictured them scrounging in the ocean like dumpster-diving bums and speaking to the other rays in gruff voices, raspy from hardship yeah, I used to have it great
..I was hand-fed calamari every day! And then, the market crashed
While I always liked PETTING the rays at Sea World, I was never a fan of feeding them. Something about knowing that they cant see very well, and that they use suction to grasp the food between their bony mouth plates makes me not want to get my little fingers anywhere NEAR those scary little stingray lips. Do stingrays have lips? I didnt care. I just didnt want them on me.
Fortunately for me, my sense of pride overcame my fear of having my fingers crushed to bits right in front of everyone. A freak accident is one thing, but I cant look like a wuss when I am surrounded by strangers.
And lo and behold, who was one of those strangers? Yep, you got it. RASUL MAN. I swear, this guy was following us around everywhere. I was starting to think we might need a restraining order. I shook it off, put a shrimp between my fingers and held my breath as I lowered my hand into the water. I whispered a painful goodbye to my left hand, until we meet again, as the ray brushed over it and slurped up the goods in one fluid motion. I snatched my hand back out of the water and counted. One, two, three, four, five, SWEET!
My celebration was cut short as the lady handed me another piece of fish. Aw crap, I have to do it AGAIN?
After feeding time was over, we drifted around the lagoon pretending to snorkel, but mostly standing in the shallow water and putting our faces underneath. A few swam by us, and we managed to get a couple of underwater shots. Mostly, they kept to the super-shallows and would gather around the folks lingering there. It reminded me of trying to walk around my kitchen at the dogs dinnertime. Step. Bump. Step. Bump. Bump. Could ya MOVE, please? Bump.
In the back of the lagoon, a lone stingray roams....I think that was "Big Mama"!
As the next group came in, we hopped out of the water and I discovered that someone had STOLEN my towel. Im going to find you, Rasul man, I know it was you! Naturally, I used Lionels towel and informed him that his had gone missing. He shrugged, and shook like a dog. Looks like the joke was on me.
Coming next: jet ski excursion, otherwise known as cruising for a heart attack.
I wondered what that smell was....
. Thank you!
i'm, loving it !!! the pictures and your writitng style is wonderful. 
