After lunch, it was back to the exciting conclusion of Day One’s truck lecture. Soon Art is doing that Crazy Talk again and says that it’s time to get to work and break off into groups. “Work” and “groups” are not two words I want to hear in the same sentence when I’m in Disney World. He counts us off (“One, two, three, four, five, one, two, three…”) and I’m feeling like Molly Ringwald in The Breakfast Club as I gesture over to Emilio Estaban (Jakie), nonverbally telling Art to put us in the same group. But teacher does the count all wrong and we end up in separate teams. After being assigned a group number and color, we all trek over to another room so that we can put our collective heads together and come up with something brilliant to share with the rest of the class. Like I said, this was real work we had to do. And I could see fun just outside the window, gently tapping on the pane.
The first thing we do as a group is wait for someone to take the lead. We sit at the table and smile at each other, looking for an Alpha personality to take over. The next thing we do is discuss who ISN’T going to be the one to brief our project. We go around the table and, one by one, give a brilliant excuse why each of us is the least qualified person to do take this task. I’ll tell you right now, folks, that it isn’t going to be me. I may have an encyclopedia brain of Disney knowledge, but there’s not much in the way of transportation OR distribution. One person finally pipes up that she has extensive experience in the ways of transportation, so we unanimously agree that she must be the one most qualified to brief. Once we have a somewhat reluctant volunteer, we finally roll up our sleeves and get to work.
After we put some poor excuse of a brief together, we sit and listen to each group’s presentation. When everyone was finished, Art tells us that the colored marbles on the table each represent a group. We are supposed to vote for the group who gave the least horrible briefing. The only color missing on each table was your own color, so you were forced to vote for another team. We each grabbed a colored marble and dropped it into the plastic container. Then we headed back to our desks and anxiously awaited our next trucking lecture.
So we get back to class and Art announces that the winner of the Least Horrible Presentation was team Red. Or team Four. Or whatever they were. All I knew is that it wasn’t us, team Green. And then Art passes out prizes to team Red. Yes, prizes! And I’m all, hey if I had thought there would be monetary incentives for doing well, I would have tried harder. Or at least tried a little.
Throughout the day, during breaks and group meetings, I would chat with others. And the conversations usually went something like this: “Hi, nice to meet you. Isn’t this class location awesome? Where are you staying? Are you visiting the parks?” I was dying to meet some other Disney freaks like myself, to meet some others that were using the class as an excuse to visit the Mouse. Most of the folks I spoke with were staying off-site in cheap fleabag hotels (or may as well been). Just a handful of them were actually staying at the Boardwalk. But not one person I spoke to was extending their trip to enjoy the fruits of all Disney had to offer. In other words, they were here for transportation and distribution. Which rather confused and befuddled me. Because, isn’t that why we’re all here? I mean, you seriously wouldn’t take this class if it were offered in the middle of Iowa, would you?
By now you’re wondering, “Hey, I thought you weren’t going to discuss this silly truck class. After all, your trip report isn’t entitled,
The Things I Learned About Warehousing, or
Disney, Trucking, and You. When are you getting back to the parks?” Well fear not, my loyal reader. There may be a point to all of this. So stop interrupting me.
The other thing Art was doing was passing out ping pong balls during class. Whenever he asked a question and someone got the answer right, he’d throw them a ball. I didn’t really have any need for a ping pong ball, but it became the quest of the class (
raison d’etre, if you will) to obtain as many as you could for bragging rights. By the end of day one, Art passed out about 25 balls. Jakie didn’t have one. But I did. I answered this (sort of) transportation-related question:
“What does
Toyota mean?”
“It means
Oh what a feeling, Art.”
“Not exactly, but I like your answer. It means
rich rice farmer.”
Art tosses me a ball. Yay! My first ping pong ball! I’m sure it was mostly out of sympathy because I seem so out of place in this class. In the classroom, yes, but let’s all wander outside and all YOU people become Odd Man Out. If he only asked us Disney trivia…let’s just say I would be the Ping Pong Ball Queen. Especially in this room.
So mercifully, around 5:00 or so, teacher rings the bell and we’re finally free from the confines of our truck lecture. I’m anxious to answer the gentle tapping on the window.
After class Jakie and I drive back to our hotel room. Did you hear me? Okay, let me say that again: after class Jakie and I drive back to our hotel room. Successfully. No turnarounds or goofy routes or wrong turns or ANYTHING! (Sad, isn’t it? When NOT getting lost is worthy of a mention?)
So we change our clothes in our rooms and jump back in the car. We are going to MGM tonight (I still call it that, so get used to it), and we’re certain we know how to get there. You see, we noticed that it’s right across the street from the Boardwalk Inn. And by now we’re reasonably sure we know how to get there. Plus, it’s a park we’re heading toward, and with all of those purple signs on property, it’s really hard NOT to find it.
We may have had a missed turn on the way, I don’t remember. But I do remember that it was relatively incident-free. The problem was, once we parked the car, well…let’s just say that I’m used to getting there via Disney transportation. And we all know Disney drops you off right at the front entrance. When you go by car…not so much. You park way out in the boonies and have to take a tram to the entrance like a third-class, bottom-rung-of-the-ladder, dreg-of-society schlep. And speaking of trams, Jakie…there is one now! If we miss it, who knows how long we have to wait until the next one? And we have a reservation at Prime Time in twenty minutes and I know that seems like enough time, but trust me lady. It isn’t. RUUUUUNNN!
Like dorks, we run full-speed to the tram, terrified that it will take off at any moment without us. We jump on and slam into our seats, panting like dogs, wiping the sweat off of our foreheads, and giving each other a relieved “we made it!” look. But we end up looking like total idiots because other people are nonchalantly walking up and getting on for the next eight minutes or so. We could have tiptoed to the tram and still made it. We could have read Obama’s entire health care plan in the car and still made it.
When the tram finally goes and reaches the entrance, we had to high-tail it to the Prime Time to make our reservation time. Seriously, what’s worse? Waiting with the rest of the masses for Disney busses, or waiting with the rest of the masses for parking lot trams? Kind of a tossup, I’d say.
There was nothing to stress about. We walked right up to the counter and got seated immediately. We had Cousin Cooper for a waiter. This guy was new to me, but played the part perfectly. He told us that Ma was in the kitchen, and that we should chat with our cousins while we waited for the food since we had not seen each other in awhile. Then he leaves.
The bummer is that Jakie and I really stuffed ourselves at lunchtime and we’re not terribly hungry for Mom’s yummy dinner. So when Cooper returns, she orders a shake and a bowl of chicken soup, which I thought was the strangest dinner order I’ve ever heard. I order the veggie stuffed peppers.
Waiting for our order, I tell Jakie what the Prime Time is all about. I point out the rebels around the room and the punishments that are given to them. I told her about the time I had to sing “I’m a Little Teapot.” And the time I made a waitress drop her dishes before she threatened to send me to the corner. Jakie seemed to appreciate the theme, and said that it reminded her of her trip to Art Debevic’s in Chicago. She said that the people who took her there never told her what the restaurant was all about. So when the waiter was rude to her, she almost decked him. Her friends clued her in before any violence partook.
Ma didn’t disappoint. I really love her stuffed peppers. Jakie enjoyed her soup and shake. Despite my huge lunch, I still managed to eat my entire dinner. I made sure to show Cooper my empty plate, and to tell Mom how much I love her stuffed peppers. He congratulated me on eating all my veggies. Which is kinda funny, telling a vegetarian that.
Look upon my half-eaten meal. It was delicious. No jokes about it swarming with maggots, either.
Cooper gives us the bill. I ask, “Wait…since when does Mom charge for food?”
“How long have you been in Disney World?” he replies.
Coming up: Part 5. If you want to eat paradise, simply walk around and take it.
..I woulda thunk they found out about her Moldavian connection. Isn't that where the wedding massacre on Dynasty took place??
Hey I do THAT ALL THE TIME. Even with my Car in MY driveway!!!!
Nothing good ever comes of breaking into groups.
My room mates and I used to keep this book on our coffee table. Great conversation piece over drinks 
Honestly...how could a person possibly not be interested in that kind of information. You are sitting in the middle of the happeiest place on earth...and you should be craving any bit of info you could possibly get on said locale. And from an expert none the less...jeeze! 
