Hucifer does the solo thing sort of. Alone and going home, 9/21

[HeyIt'sMe]

A lot of weird-looking stuff here.​

Hmmmm, it kinda reminds me of Astro Orbiter ....

 

[PrincessV]

I find the hostess podium and announce my presence. Voila, there is my reservation. No faking going on here, no sir. I legally obtained that table, thank you very much.

I remember!

What the heck is the fried thing on top?

I admit to Tim The Talker that I’m Disneyed out, who suggests that I let him chauffer me around so I can see a different side of Orlando.

Ooo, that sounds like a good plan!

The last thing I see as I turn my head back one last time is Willy devouring Tim’s intestines as Tim struggles to hang onto life during his losing battle between man and beast. As I leapt into his car for a mad getaway, I remember shouting a promise to make a donation to the Human Fund in his name.

Surely you don't expect us to believe this, do you?

The trick is to put it over your face and the top of your head--not your back like a poncho.

Also, ducking at the last moment works wonders. Not so much for the folks behind you, though.

 

[Cap'n Keel]

"This is no ordinary caterpillar, folks. Step aside for the meanest, baddest caterpillar this side of the Mississippi."

Pick up a Florida Passion caterpillar - cute little dickens. Probably wanted to get a hug. Grows up to a beautifal butterfly, similiar to the vicious Monarch butterflys you have in Michigan. Techincal name is a Gulf or Florida Fritillary. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gulf_Fritillary

So, did you stomp the poor little creature? Did you kick the ugly duckling as well? Hucifer...Hucifer........Hucifer.

 

[mmeb144]

"This is no ordinary caterpillar, folks. Step aside for the meanest, baddest caterpillar this side of the Mississippi."

Pick up a Florida Passion caterpillar - cute little dickens. Probably wanted to get a hug. Grows up to a beautifal butterfly, similiar to the vicious Monarch butterflys you have in Michigan. Techincal name is a Gulf or Florida Fritillary. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gulf_Fritillary

So, did you stomp the poor little creature? Did you kick the ugly duckling as well? Hucifer...Hucifer........Hucifer.

Check out the link. That is one cute butterfly!

 

[Peter Panic Attack]

Now that’s class, folks. Dress-In-A-Bag

Dang! I wish I would have thought of that. Of course, I haven’t worn a dress since college. Have you got anything like a “suit-in-a-box”?….because that I could use.

so therefore I am appropriate enough for my California Grill reservation (unless anyone should decide to look below the ankles).

I imagine it's very annoying when guys are always gawking at your ankles. "Hey buddy!....my eyes are up here."

Voila, there is my reservation. No faking going on here

You mean you’ve faked before? The whole thing, the whole production, it was all an act?

As I leapt into his car for a mad getaway, I remember shouting a promise to make a donation to the Human Fund in his name.

Well, no wonder Willy was angry….the Human fund is “money for people”….not bugs. Awkwuuuuuurd.

 

[GreatBiscuit]

I was WAAAAAAAAAY behind on my TR’ing. Your take on the MK was fantastic as always. There were too many installments to squeeze in the multi-quoting, but I enjoyed them all immensely. Sorry to hear you didn’t feel the love for Swiss Family or Dole Whip but at least you were able to enjoy Splash. Albeit at the cost of being bathed in green toilet water. Loved all the Airplane references. Nifty stuff that.

 

[SimmerBaggins]

Thanks for the Gaylord Palms review...cold and impersonal. If it WASN'T close to WDW, say, in Vegas -- would you stay there? I'm thinking that nothing in Orlando really comes close to the warmth you find in a Disney resort...once you're indoctrinated, that is.

We used to stay at another resort off-property, before we become DVC owners. Now, I'd probably rather stay at a value resort than stay off-property!!

 

[NMAmy]

Amy, not sure if you noticed, but I took your suggestion (begging, actually) and did not update over Labor Day weekend. And you're STILL behind!.

Sigh. Dang ninja posters. Now I'm on pins and needles wondering if you're posting another installment right now.

On my way to the Contemporary, this is what I see. How come I don't have legs like that?

Those that have them don't appreciate them.

I find a bathroom next to the Wave on the first floor of the Contemporary. I reach into the blue bag that’s been gradually dyeing my shorts all day and pull out a dress. Now that’s class, folks. Dress-In-A-Bag.

That's very Girl Scouty of you to be so prepared for any necessary wardrobe changes. Except for packing a spare pair of shorts.

It’s even better than Soap-On-A-Rope. Speaking of which, remember those? Who thought that was a good idea? Is it because you could hang them over the shower spout without losing it? Hang it on your wrist or your – oops, need to censor myself. Does anyone really find any value with these soaps?

Do they still make those? I could kind of see that Old Spice guy using one now that I think about it.

Considering my rocking body, that is unlikely to happen.

Well, of course. That's a given.

I take the escalators up a few floors. Inhale deeply. Exhale.

I can just imagine the people taking the escalators down seeing the crazy woman smelling the Contemporary air.

Voila, there is my reservation.

Can I just take a time out to say "THANK YOU, Wendy, for restoring my faith in the spelling ability of posters, many of whom appear to think the word is "Wallah." I die a little inside every time I see that.

I decide to splurge and get one of those flatbreads. I took a picture of it with my cell and sent it to Dan. If I can’t be with the man, I may as well send him my love. And a picture of my appetizer.

It's like the world's weirdest love letter. "Love you, Dan. Aren't you jealous of my flatbread? Nanner, nanner, nanner!"

A lot of weird-looking stuff here.​

Amen, sister.

It is well themed. They have weekly alligator feedings and everything.

That is certainly an unusual theme and I'm not sure why it's not the first thing I check for when booking a hotel.

I doubt that Tim’s car is his actual destination, but that’s the direction he’s headed.

Perhaps he was planning on a getaway to a Disney hotel. Go to the MK, take a spin on the teacups, stay at a hotel without alligator feedings, you know, the usual.

Well. Willy is having none of this. He’s got places to go, and no one – no matter how large – is going to mess with him today. So what does he do? Does he spit in Tim’s direction? Give him the middle leg? Does he leap on Tim’s foot and take a big bite out of it? Hell no. Willy turns his aggression out on me. Yes, ME. He is full-out mad now. Willy turns away from Tim and instead of crawling, he’s hauling butt. Scurrying. Running, even. Toward me. Now, I know you’re thinking, “Surely caterpillars can’t run, Hucifer.” But in caterpillar terms, this dude was running. He wasn’t going at the snail’s pace like he was when we first discovered him. He was booking. And don’t call me Shirley.

Okay, this story had me

Beware of Willy, the caterpillar of death.​

Seriously, what the heck IS that thing? That looks like no friendly little Michigan caterpillar I've ever seen. That thing is horrendous.


Coming Up: Day 9: The Good-bye girl[/QUOTE]

Well this sounds sad. When is your next trip again?

 

[NMAmy]

Woo hoo! I'm finally caught up!

 

[GreatBiscuit]

I have nothing witty to say. I just didn't want to see your TR on page 4. Such a tragedy just aint right!

 

[RNlovesWDW]

Love Love Love your sense of humor. Really enjoying your TR.

 

[hucifer]

Hmmmm, it kinda reminds me of Astro Orbiter ....

Hey, Hey! Welcome to the end of my TR! Here's your big banana welcome....

Astro Orbiter, huh? [tilts head] Yeah, I can see that.

I remember!

Good times.

What the heck is the fried thing on top?

A vegetable. Don't ask me which one.

Surely you don't expect us to believe this, do you?

I'm quite surprised that you don't. And stop that!

Also, ducking at the last moment works wonders. Not so much for the folks behind you, though.

I'll have to remember that the next time I ride that thing. Thanks!

Pick up a Florida Passion caterpillar - cute little dickens. Probably wanted to get a hug. Grows up to a beautifal butterfly, similiar to the vicious Monarch butterflys you have in Michigan. Techincal name is a Gulf or Florida Fritillary. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gulf_Fritillary

So, did you stomp the poor little creature? Did you kick the ugly duckling as well? Hucifer...Hucifer........Hucifer.

Well, this information would have been helpful the Night of the Attack. And don't act all innocent with me, mister. You started the whole mess.

Check out the link. That is one cute butterfly!

Cute, yes. But evil. And freakishly strong for his size.

Dang! I wish I would have thought of that. Of course, I haven’t worn a dress since college. Have you got anything like a “suit-in-a-box”?….because that I could use.

I don't, unfortunately. But I could see where you would use that.

I imagine it's very annoying when guys are always gawking at your ankles. "Hey buddy!....my eyes are up here."

Arrrgh! That happens ALL THE TIME.

You mean you’ve faked before? The whole thing, the whole production, it was all an act?

Fake...fake...fake.

Well, no wonder Willy was angry….the Human fund is “money for people”….not bugs. Awkwuuuuuurd.

I was shouting it to Tim, not Willy. Try to keep up.

I was WAAAAAAAAAY behind on my TR’ing. Your take on the MK was fantastic as always. There were too many installments to squeeze in the multi-quoting, but I enjoyed them all immensely. Sorry to hear you didn’t feel the love for Swiss Family or Dole Whip but at least you were able to enjoy Splash. Albeit at the cost of being bathed in green toilet water. Loved all the Airplane references. Nifty stuff that.

I find that Airplane is one of the most quotable movies of all time.

Thanks for the Gaylord Palms review...cold and impersonal. If it WASN'T close to WDW, say, in Vegas -- would you stay there? I'm thinking that nothing in Orlando really comes close to the warmth you find in a Disney resort...once you're indoctrinated, that is.

Yes! I would stay there in another city. It was beautiful! It just didn't have that Disney warmth to it.

We used to stay at another resort off-property, before we become DVC owners. Now, I'd probably rather stay at a value resort than stay off-property!!

Well...

I consider myself a bit of a value resort snob. Having never stayed at one, I'm sure I might be convinced otherwise if I did. But I prefer having larger rooms or condos.

Sigh. Dang ninja posters. Now I'm on pins and needles wondering if you're posting another installment right now.

I hope you weren't on them very long.

Those that have them don't appreciate them.

You're probably right.

That's very Girl Scouty of you to be so prepared for any necessary wardrobe changes. Except for packing a spare pair of shorts.

I know...right? Well, at least I had a patriotic theme on them.

Do they still make those? I could kind of see that Old Spice guy using one now that I think about it.

Oooh...now I'M thinking about the Old Spice guy using one.

Thanks, Amy!

Well, of course. That's a given.

Thank you.

I can just imagine the people taking the escalators down seeing the crazy woman smelling the Contemporary air.

Dude, have you SMELLED the Contemporary's fourth floor? Because it smells amazing. AMAZING!

Can I just take a time out to say "THANK YOU, Wendy, for restoring my faith in the spelling ability of posters, many of whom appear to think the word is "Wallah." I die a little inside every time I see that.

You are very welcome. Of course, my four years of French didn't hurt.

BTW,I die a little every time someone uses "it's" in the possessive.

It's like the world's weirdest love letter. "Love you, Dan. Aren't you jealous of my flatbread? Nanner, nanner, nanner!"

We're a weird couple.

That is certainly an unusual theme and I'm not sure why it's not the first thing I check for when booking a hotel.

Mine either.

Perhaps he was planning on a getaway to a Disney hotel. Go to the MK, take a spin on the teacups, stay at a hotel without alligator feedings, you know, the usual.

I suppose hitching a ride would have been a bit faster than walking.

Okay, this story had me

It's funny NOW, but back then it was a night of sheer terror.

Seriously, what the heck IS that thing? That looks like no friendly little Michigan caterpillar I've ever seen. That thing is horrendous.

Welcome to Florida. Where our caterpillars are out for blood.

Well this sounds sad. When is your next trip again?

Hmmm...in two or three years, I imagine.

Woo hoo! I'm finally caught up!

I have nothing witty to say. I just didn't want to see your TR on page 4. Such a tragedy just aint right!

Hey, thanks buddy!

Love Love Love your sense of humor. Really enjoying your TR.

Hello RN! Here's your big banana welcome....

Thanks for dropping a line! I'm glad you're enjoying my (sort of) solo adventures. And yes, I'm almost done with this beast.

 

[hucifer]

Quoting you: I admit to Tim The Talker that I’m Disneyed out, who suggests that I let him chauffer me around so I can see a different side of Orlando. Not only does an evening of UnDisney sound good, having some company sounds even better. So I pay my meal and head downstairs with him. He drives me to the Gaylord Palms, a resort outside of WDW.

...Just so I’m clear about what I just read, you were lonely on your solo trip so you hooked up with some random guy, saw the dark, undisney side of Orlando and he took you to a hotel?

Um. Yeah.

Look, I was solo a LOOOOOOOOONG time.

Quoting Glennbo123: You do have legs like that. Legs just like that guy in the blue shorts walking in front of those young people.

...I can’t top that one.

Yep, our Glennbo is pretty darn funny. At my expense.

Quoting Glennbo123: Hello?! Prison showers.

...Now there’s one trip report I never want to read.

But you'll wait for the DVD.

Quoting you: When did we get so old?

...Between now and the time you started this report.

Again...yes...I deserve that.

And in honor of your killer caterpillar story here is my world famous snail joke:

A guy hears a knock at the door and when he opens it he looks down to see a snail. He flicks the snail into the bushes and goes back inside. Three months later, there is another knock at the door. When he opens it the snail says, “What the heck did you do that for?”

Lou

A joke, I'm sure, that Willy would so not appreciate.

Wait...is that all you got?

 

[hucifer]

Woo HOO! I’m leaving Disney World! I’m going home!

[record scratches]

Wait…what?

That’s right. I’m excited as hell to be leaving. Most people are sad on their last day here. Today, that would not be me. I’m more than ready to jump on a plane and kiss my boys again. Instead of sadly folding and gingerly packing away my things, I’m dancing around the room in my underthings, jiggling my big butt, singing crappy tween songs, grabbing clothes, and stuffing them into the suitcase. I’m going to see my boys again. I can count down the hours until I sniff Patrick’s head again.

One last photo of my gorgeous view.​

I’m taking the Magical Journeys bus back to the airport since Jakie stole the car from me several days ago, leaving me stranded in a town called Mouse. Actually, this isn’t a bad way to leave since The Big Cheese was taking care of my luggage, transportation, and traffic for me. All I had to do was sit and watch their silly little bus video.

But before all that, I had to roll my flipping huge suitcase over to the main building. And that’s not easy when you’re a card-carrying Overpackers Anonymous member and you pack a suitcase like you would stuff polyester into a Pal Mickey. Or cram spatulas and wooden spoons in your utensil drawer. Or shove pizza into Sally Struther’s mouth. In any case, the suitcase was stuffed and heavy and awkward to handle as I roll it down the empty streets of Port Orleans. Not unlike my rear end these days. But luckily I only had to drag it to the main building. Disney folk would take care of it the rest of the way.

Maybe.

I told Dan that I had an 11:15 flight on my last evening. But when I glanced at my itinerary after I hung up, I noticed that it said 11:30. Guess I was wrong. But when I checked into the Panda Express counter, the woman behind the counter handed me my itinerary and said, “Here’s your boarding pass for your 11:15 flight to Detroit.” Which is what I remembered originally, but what’s with the fifteen minute discrepancy?

[shrugs]

They make you wait, like, forever for this bus. So I’m patiently waiting at the Double Rainbow bus stop (It’s so intense!) and making a few last-minute notes with my annoying flying and bumping Mickey pen. I think I also make about twelve One-More-Time pee breaks while waiting. I’m the only nut job there for a long time too, and part of me begins to wonder if that fifteen-minute discrepancy in my flight time isn’t the only bizarre thing that’s going to happen to me today. But I felt a bit of relief after a family or two show up at the bus stop too. Also, after another pee break. At least they’re piping in park music here. It was a nice way to get your last Disney fix.

We’re still waiting. This Magical Rainbow bus is taking forever. But I’m not going to stress about it! That’s why I’m taking this thing. Because of the no-stress thing. Also because it was free.

And we’re waiting.

A cast member, who was awfully perky so early this morning, stops by and starts handing out beads to us folks who were waiting. Look at that, I didn’t even have to flash him. I mean, I didn’t even have to remove my scarf to obtain said beads. Although, as a measure of my gratitude, I did moon him.

Still, as appreciative as I am about the free beads (although, I still have to force my smile to the nice cast member), I am missing Patrick so bad that I can’t stand it anymore. And then I feel bad for having an insincere facial expression. Perhaps that’s why I felt obligated to moon him.

And we’re waiting.

So I’ve got my pad, my annoying Mickey pen, and my beads. I’m sitting there, listening to the park music and counting the hours until I can leave this place and hold my family again. And then the Soarin’ music starts up. I close my eyes and focus on it. I love Soarin’. I love everything about it…the ride, of course, the music, the smells, the ambiance, Puddy, everything. And this music really takes me back on the ride, despite the fact that I’m sitting at a bus stop. Oh, I recognize this part…it’s where we’re flying over the orange groves…can’t you just smell those fragrant oranges? I love this ride. I wish I was on it right now…

I was all hatin’ on Disney just moments ago because it was driving a wedge between me and my family. Now I’m all loving it again, hoping to feel like I do when I’m soarin’.

Damn I’m fickle.

And then the Soarin’ music ends and the Orient Express bus pulls up.

[fast-forward to airport]

The Magical Mushroom bus ride ends and we all pile out.

[fast-forward through security...although these days we don’t exactly “fast-forward” through security anymore]

So. Whatever I’ve had for breakfast hours ago in my room is spent. Breakfast, Round Two sounds awfully good to me so I grab a water and get into a deli food line. I may be miles from the Mouse, but I feel like I’m still there…the folks in front of me are taking forever to order as if they’re using snack and food credits from the Dining Plan. Eventually it’s my turn to order. The bagel with egg and cheese sounds like something substantial that will tide me over for the plane ride, so I tell the woman behind the counter to fix me up one. “Sorry, ma’am. We no longer serve breakfast after 10am.” I look at my watch. It’s 10:10. Well, of COURSE it is.

Okay, whatever. Except now I’m under pressure. There’s a big line behind me, and I’ve got exactly 6.7 seconds to decide what I’m going to have before they start getting irritated at ME. I quickly scan the menu above the cashier’s head for lunch items. Meat, meat, meat…more meat…and…nothing.

Dammit.

“Never mind,” I mumble, bowing my head and taking the Walk of Shame away from the counter. “I’ll just eat a paper bag or something.”

I took about five steps away from the station when I realized that I was about two steps away from getting arrested. NO, I was properly dressed you pervs. I had not realized that I was still clutching the bottled water from the deli so long ago…back when I thought I would be enjoying it with a bagel sandwich with egg and cheese. Sigh.

Head raised, I tiptoe back to the station and gently put the water back in the cooler as if nothing ever happened.

[fast-forward to airplane]

I’m in my seat and ready for the ride home. Over to my right is the sweetest old woman I’ve ever seen. She’s knitting a potholder. You just don’t see old women knitting (potholders or otherwise) anymore. She probably spent most of her life never stepping onto one of these flying contraptions and was mighty glad for it. But these days you can’t just travel from one town to the next without one. Why, back in her day people walked. Or took a bicycle. Or, if you were rich enough, one of those horseless carriages. Her name is something like Gertrude or Rose or Mae, and she lives alone in a tiny two-bedroom cottage on fourteen acres in the middle of prairie land. Her husband Hank died about five years ago ever since The Cancer took his life. She was born in that very house some 82 years back, just like her four siblings. These days her daughter and two sons and their families live about 20 miles south of the cottage, in that big city town that used to be nothing more than a general store and a post office back in the day. She had to walk to that little town twice a week, her mother sending her out for an occasional loaf of bread or the weekly post pickup. Sam Gruthers and his wife Minnie owned the store. They were good folk, always friendly with everyone. Sam smiled with his whole face. He sometimes offered penny candy to Mae when she would come into the store. Minnie was a large and jolly woman who laughed at just about anything, but who also worked like a farm horse. The good Lord never blessed them with children, so they loved every child they met, and treated them as their own. Lester Lewston ran the post. He was seventy years old, never married, and as stubborn as a mule. But he always seemed to have a soft spot for Mae. He would smile down at her, showing off his missing tooth, handing her the post and telling her to say hi to her mom for him. Life was simpler back then.

She remembered her first taste of cola. Mr. Gruthers offered her a taste when he got his first shipment. It was so bubbly! It tickled her nose and made her belch. But it was cold and delicious and nothing like anything she had ever tasted, certainly nothing like the well water from behind the house. She had begged her mother to let her buy some, but they never seemed to have enough money for such luxuries.

She remembered her first kiss. It wasn’t with her husband, either. It was with Felix Burns. His dad had a farm on Sullivan Road. Back in those days if you let a boy kiss you, you were “one of those” girls. But it was only a kiss, and she was so in love with Felix. When he went off to fight the war, she knew deep down in her heart that she’d never see him again. It was about two years later that she met Hank. Hank was very different from Felix, but he was kind and gentle and very devoted to her. He was a wonderful husband and a great father, right up to the day he went to see Jesus.
---------

So these idyllic and warm thoughts are floating through my head about this woman I’ve never met. I want her to look up at me just so I can smile at her, so I can remind her that there are still good folk around; that there is a little of the time she left so long ago before she returns to that little two-bedroom cottage and the simple life that’s waiting for her again.

Mae never looks up at me. For the entire plane ride she knits. When the plane finally lands, she stops knitting, puts down her needles, and gently folds her poldholder. She leans over, opens her purse, puts the potholder inside of it. Then she pulls out her cell phone and checks her messages.

[record scratches]

Wait…what?

Well, that idyllic image is totally blown. I suppose the next thing she’s going to do is crank Primal Scream on her iPod while texting her boyfriend in Los Angeles that the potholder he wanted her to make is bothering her arthritis, and if he wants one so badly he can just go to Bed Bath and Beyond and buy one himself. I mean, who does he think she is, anyway? Grandma Mae? It’s not like potholders cost an arm and a leg these days! And where the hell is that flight attendant? She ordered that bourbon and cola ages ago.

So if the flight was uneventful, the images in my head kept me busy for the entire flight.

When I arrive in Detroit, my shuttle service was there to pick me up. The weather is overcast and chilly; in fact, Detroit was having record lows this July while I was enduring 90-degree walking baths in Florida. The shuttle man drives on I-94 toward my home. There I see a woman pulled over and getting handcuffed by police. Further down I see the aftermath of a bridge that was destroyed from a vehicle fire.

Ahh…welcome back!

And what was the best part? What was waiting for me when I arrived?

Yeah, it’s good to be home.

 

[mickeyfan1973]

This brought tears to my eyes....so sweet. Your little guy is so cute. I just gotta say, I loved your TR. Your humour and witt is awesome and made for great reading!! I'm kinda sad it's over.

 

[glennbo123]

I’m dancing around the room in my underthings, jiggling my big butt, singing crappy tween songs, grabbing clothes, and stuffing them into the suitcase.

Sounds like a great new show for Downtown Disney, West Side.

Or shove pizza into Sally Struther’s mouth.

Now there's a reference! You're showing your age.

In any case, the suitcase was stuffed and heavy and awkward to handle as I roll it down the empty streets of Port Orleans. Not unlike my rear end these days. But luckily I only had to drag it to the main building. Disney folk would take care of it the rest of the way.

I was going to ask if you had reverted back to talking about the suitcase, but I guess the answer is the same if you were talking about the suitcase or about your butt.

A cast member, who was awfully perky so early this morning, stops by and starts handing out beads to us folks who were waiting. Look at that, I didn’t even have to flash him. I mean, I didn’t even have to remove my scarf to obtain said beads. Although, as a measure of my gratitude, I did moon him.

You're so nice! That's beats a monetary tip or one of those lousy comment cards any day!

Damn I’m fickle.

I just heard Dan exclaim "Amen" all the way over here in Pennsylvania.

And what was the best part? What was waiting for me when I arrived?

Yeah, it’s good to be home.

Aw!

I hope this doesn't mean you're going to stop...just because you reached home. Keep writing and we'll read it. (Heck, at least tell us about Hawaii.) If this is the end, well, thanks for the GREAT trip report Hucifer! It's so entertaining to read your stuff -- I need my Hucifix!

 

[javamom]

Well, that idyllic image is totally blown. I suppose the next thing she’s going to do is crank Primal Scream on her iPod while texting her boyfriend in Los Angeles that the potholder he wanted her to make is bothering her arthritis, and if he wants one so badly he can just go to Bed Bath and Beyond and buy one himself. I mean, who does he think she is, anyway? Grandma Mae? It’s not like potholders cost an arm and a leg these days! And where the hell is that flight attendant? She ordered that bourbon and cola ages ago.

I literally had a Grandma Mae, and she was a short buxom, feisty spit-fire of a woman. She was a head chef and ran a tight ship in her kitchens. She wasn't a drinker, but did deck a rube at my sister's wedding reception. So, I am thinking that alcohol made her bullet proof. She was a hoot! But she had the softest shoulders, the best hugs, and could never let a stranger go hungry on her watch. We never knew what extra guests would show up for dinner, which was no small sacrifice for a lady that was helping her daughter raise 4 daughters of her own. I miss her muchly!!

 

[NMAmy]

I can count down the hours until I sniff Patrick’s head again.

We mommies are so weird.

Actually, this isn’t a bad way to leave since The Big Cheese was taking care of my luggage, transportation, and traffic for me. All I had to do was sit and watch their silly little bus video.

I am just a HUGE fan of checking my luggage at the hotel and prancing off to the airport with just my purse. Which is pretty heavy but not as bad as my suitcase.

But when I checked into the Panda Express counter,

Your airline is a purveyor of fast food Chinese now?

I think I also make about twelve One-More-Time pee breaks while waiting.

You know that each time you took that one more time pee break, another bus loaded up and left while you were gone, right?

And then the Soarin’ music starts up. I close my eyes and focus on it. I love Soarin’. I love everything about it…the ride, of course, the music, the smells, the ambiance, Puddy, everything. And this music really takes me back on the ride, despite the fact that I’m sitting at a bus stop. Oh, I recognize this part…it’s where we’re flying over the orange groves…can’t you just smell those fragrant oranges? I love this ride. I wish I was on it right now…

I had to stop playing the Soarin' music in the car because it made me close my eyes and imagine the ride.

“Sorry, ma’am. We no longer serve breakfast after 10am.” I look at my watch. It’s 10:10. Well, of COURSE it is.

Now you know why the line was taking so long.

Head raised, I tiptoe back to the station and gently put the water back in the cooler as if nothing ever happened.

I think they owed you that bottle of water by that point!

I’m in my seat and ready for the ride home. Over to my right is the sweetest old woman I’ve ever seen. She’s knitting a potholder. You just don’t see old women knitting (potholders or otherwise) anymore. She probably spent most of her life never stepping onto one of these flying contraptions and was mighty glad for it. But these days you can’t just travel from one town to the next without one. Why, back in her day people walked. Or took a bicycle. Or, if you were rich enough, one of those horseless carriages. Her name is something like Gertrude or Rose or Mae, and she lives alone in a tiny two-bedroom cottage on fourteen acres in the middle of prairie land. Her husband Hank died about five years ago ever since The Cancer took his life. She was born in that very house some 82 years back, just like her four siblings. These days her daughter and two sons and their families live about 20 miles south of the cottage, in that big city town that used to be nothing more than a general store and a post office back in the day. She had to walk to that little town twice a week, her mother sending her out for an occasional loaf of bread or the weekly post pickup. Sam Gruthers and his wife Minnie owned the store. They were good folk, always friendly with everyone. Sam smiled with his whole face. He sometimes offered penny candy to Mae when she would come into the store. Minnie was a large and jolly woman who laughed at just about anything, but who also worked like a farm horse. The good Lord never blessed them with children, so they loved every child they met, and treated them as their own. Lester Lewston ran the post. He was seventy years old, never married, and as stubborn as a mule. But he always seemed to have a soft spot for Mae. He would smile down at her, showing off his missing tooth, handing her the post and telling her to say hi to her mom for him. Life was simpler back then.

She remembered her first taste of cola. Mr. Gruthers offered her a taste when he got his first shipment. It was so bubbly! It tickled her nose and made her belch. But it was cold and delicious and nothing like anything she had ever tasted, certainly nothing like the well water from behind the house. She had begged her mother to let her buy some, but they never seemed to have enough money for such luxuries.

She remembered her first kiss. It wasn’t with her husband, either. It was with Felix Burns. His dad had a farm on Sullivan Road. Back in those days if you let a boy kiss you, you were “one of those” girls. But it was only a kiss, and she was so in love with Felix. When he went off to fight the war, she knew deep down in her heart that she’d never see him again. It was about two years later that she met Hank. Hank was very different from Felix, but he was kind and gentle and very devoted to her. He was a wonderful husband and a great father, right up to the day he went to see Jesus.

What a great story! Usually, the little old women I'm seated next to on a plane spend the trip telling me this kind of story.

The shuttle man drives on I-94 toward my home. There I see a woman pulled over and getting handcuffed by police. Further down I see the aftermath of a bridge that was destroyed from a vehicle fire.

There's no place like home. There's no place like home.

Yeah, it’s good to be home.

Well, THAT is the sweetest thing EVER! Of course, Patrick needs some lessons on how to make Mama feel guilty for going to WDW without him.

 

[NMAmy]

Oh, yeah, one more thing. I don't want the story to end so now it would be great if you could either continue with the fake Disney trip stories or if you could just give us updates on your daily life. I can't wait 2-3 years. I'm going to kidnap your whole family and take you to WDW with me this spring.

 

[__disneygirl]

Oh, yeah, one more thing. I don't want the story to end so now it would be great if you could either continue with the fake Disney trip stories or if you could just give us updates on your daily life. I can't wait 2-3 years. I'm going to kidnap your whole family and take you to WDW with me this spring.

I totally agree with this. From now on just make up some stories. I will start you off. You walk in the door so relieved to finally be back with your family after your solo trip. Your husband is waiting for you with bags packed. And he says "SURPRISE! You're going back to Disney. And we're coming too!!" and then your son is all, "SURPRISE MOMMY!!" and the Lifetime movie music swells. And everyone cries. And then a Magical Express bus pulls right up to your house. And Mickey is driving. Off you go!!!

Anyway. If I had a million dollars I would send you straight back to the world b/c I am going to miss your TR updates. I hope you guys are returning to Disney World soon (like, for real, not in a bus driven by a mouse) so I can live vicariously through your hilarious adventures. The whole thing about Grandma Mae had me cracking up because I do the same thing with strangers I see, imagining what they're life is like as if I'm writing a screenplay or something. And speaking of writing, you are so so good at it and also a very lucky woman. My heart swelled when I saw the picture of your son waiting for you!! Now take that kid to Disney!