I walked to Morocco (not the real Morocco, that would be a long walk
it would also be a wet walk). It was about time for my ADR and I thought this was a good time to enjoy my first solo meal. I gave the unfriendly woman at the podium my name and was seated by an unfriendly hostess. No Mohammeds here. To make up for their lack of hospitality, they seat me at a table that is midway between the stage area and the wall. It faces the center and its on the main floor, so its a decent spot. A few minutes later, my waiter appears and takes my drink order. After he leaves, I whip out my notepad and hotel pen and start scribbling some notes about my day. I finish, put down the notepad, and sit back and really reflect about where I was.
Alone. In Disney World. I let it sink in.
My family thinks Im nuts, wanting to come here solo. They totally dont understand how this could be fun for me. Disney World is about sharing experiences with other family members, my sister told me once as she balked at the idea that ANYONE would actually want to do this alone. Luckily, I have a very understanding and accommodating husband who not only supported my crazy idea, but actually encouraged it by suggesting I spend an extra two days here. And I love him for it. Sigh.
I guess its purely a personality trait. Some folks thrive in social circles. And some folks prefer a little alone time
especially those that have two-year-olds at home. You know what I mean. You love them to death, those little guys, but the concept of Mommy Time is a foreign one most of the time. So you really treasure alone time here and there. And I couldnt imagine a cooler place than this for some alone time. Oh sure, some folks called me a heretic for coming
here without my son. They can try to make me feel guilty for leaving him at home, but honestly, I needed this.
As Im sitting back and reflecting, the waiter returns with my water. He is trekking back to the kitchen before I notice the floaties suspended in the drink. Ahh
my first solo beverage. Chock-full of viruses that will make me sick with dysentery. Or smallpox. Or swine flu. My only solo days will be stuck in a hotel bed, vomiting up my innards and wishing I was either back home or dead. Cheers!
When he returns, I slide the drink toward him and ask him if I could possibly have some water that
didnt contain microbes, if one was available. I order couscous with veggies, sans microbes, and he leaves. It was then I noticed the nice-looking couple sitting ahead of me. More specifically, I noticed the nice-looking man. Okay, the dude was hot. So when the belly dancer came out to strut her stuff, I had the advantage of pretending to admire her skills while I eyeballed the hottie in her way. Funny thing was, the couple never notice my voyeuristic tendencies, so I was free to ogle all dinner-long. And when the wife excuses herself from the table, it was time to make my move. In my head, of course. Only in my head.
My awesome view at the restaurant. And oh yeah, there's the dancer in the background.
Then the waiter, who is trying to kill me with biological warfare, brings my food
and any plans to pounce on unsuspecting husbands were temporarily thwarted.
The couscous is tasty, just as I remember it from last time. I happily eat my first-ever solo meal and admire my amazing view. Belly dancer was okay too. Several minutes into my meal the musicians on stage start playing a birthday song, Moroccan-style, and several wait staff start that birthday celebration clapping. Like the trained seals that we are, several guests join in the clapping, hot husband included. Hes clapping along, looking at his wife, and just going along with the celebration, completely unaware that the waiters are coming to
his table. Then the husband decides to looks over at the musicians on the stage, which happened to be perfect timing because he never sees the waiters approaching. So hes merrily clapping along, watching the musicians, and completely unaware that he has several visitors standing next to him. Until he spins his head back around to look at his wife. Then his eyes catch the men standing in front of him. His eyes grow wide and he jumps up, a little yelp escaping him. He stops clapping. Apparently he isnt expecting that.
Later, the waiters are gone and the couple are eating their dessert and giving each other goo-goo eyes. It was really sweet and it really made me miss my Danny. But not enough to go home early
dont be crazy, silly reader. I pick up my notepad and do some more scribbling when my waiter finally comes to see how Im doing. He sees me taking notes and asks if everything was okay. As he drops off the bill I assured him it was, but after he walks away I mumble, No, Im writing you up. You think you can poison my drink and
not get penalized for it? I can only hope he didnt poison my food, too. Floaties are much harder to see in food. Because they dont float. They sort of just sit there. I guess in food theyd be called Landies.
[shrugs]
Then I see the bill. Twenty-two bucks. For couscous. Yikes. Did he charge extra for the microbes?
By now the Soarin FastPass is burning a major hole in my pocket, so it is back to Future World, back to my home for now. I fast-walk back to the Land and sprint down the stairs like only a solo person can do. I am way overdue for some virtual hang gliding.
Leaving the building, I get a call from Tim. He mentions something earlier about possibly being in Epcot on Friday, so we text each other that day to see if he was still coming. I answer my phone. Hey, were in Epcot, he says. Where are you?
I just left Soarin. Im in front of the Land building. Are you close?
No. How can we find you? What color shirt are you wearing? Is it red?
Well, yes it is. How did youoh. I look up and see Tim walking up the pavilion, giant poop-eating grin on his face and cell phone on his ear. My goodness he is so clever! He has Mitchell and another gentleman with him. It was probably Eagle Eye Mitchell who saw me anyway. Im sorry, I say to him on the phone. I wont be able to join you after all. Im being stalked by a creepy man with a pirate fetish. I hang up the phone.
The other gentleman is his older son Justin, who lives in Florida. He decided to spend a few days with his folks while they were in town. At least half of them are in town at that point: Marie is on a plane to Detroit that night, headed back home to start a new job. Nothing but a condo full of men now. Tim introduces me to Justin, although we had met each other at his daughters graduation party the previous year, neither one remembering the other. Apparently neither one of us is very memorable.
I know, weird huh? How can someone not remember
me?
The first thing we do is figure out what to do. Since this is a summer evening, all bets are off to getting on too many attractions. You can forget Soarin, I say, pointing behind me. The standby line is 120 minutes, at least. Someone suggests Spaceship Earth. Considering this is a gaggle of very easy-going men, they all agree and off we go. Fortunately, the line for this beauty is short and we are able to walk right on. Cuz, you know
Soarin it aint.
Mitchell and Justin sit in the front of our time travel vehicle and Tim and I sit in the back. So its time to take our picture and
click! Bill the Cat makes a second appearance, sans nose-picking. I am looking forward to see how fantastic this picture will look. We go through the attraction and then our little screen comes on. Tim is outright embarrassed by my picture. He keeps saying, Oh god
why did you make that face? Which only makes it THAT much funnier. I am laughing so hard I honestly thought I wet the seat. But just a little.
Behold the face that embarrassed a pirate.
Then we get off the time space-continuum ride mobile thingee and I scramble out to find my Bill the Cat face plastered all over the AT&T walls. Tim is still embarrassed for me. This from a guy who wears a tie with short-sleeve shirts. But I digress.
Then I suggest we hit the new Mexican ride, whatever its new name is. So, being the agreeable bunch they are, the men follow my lead into World Showcase. Tim is chatting the whole way over. Let me say something about this guy: Tim is a talker. Talker Tim. Team leader Talker Tim. Tete-a-Tete Timmy. Thats him. The man was born to chat. When he isnt chatting in his office, hes chatting in someones cubicle. We all love him, our Timmy. But the boy loves to work his jaw. We know it. He knows it. Hes probably reading this right now (right, Capn Keel?), so know that it is an
endearing quality. We got nothin but love for you, Timbo. Really.
Anyway, by the time we get to Mexico (not the real Mexico
that would be a long walk), I realize that neither Mitchell nor Justin talk. At all. I mean, its almost surreal that they are so silent. Now Mitchell is more understandable because thats Tims stepson. But Justin is, as far as Tim knows anyway, his biological son. So apparently the Talk-1 gene did not get passed down to this generation. While in line for the Mexican ride there is a tiny break in Tims nonstop conversation as he takes a deep breath to spout something else out. I take this golden opportunity to jump in. I turn to Justin and said, You didnt inherit your fathers talk gene, did you?
Even his response is silent. He grins and shakes his head. I dont believe I heard him speak all night, come to think about it. In fact, I believe that Tete-a-Tete Timmy did father a young Marcel Marceau.
So we board our boat and sit back to experience the new Mexican ride.
Lets just say that, for as lame as the old ride may have been, this one royally sucked the big one. Actually
and dont tell anyone I told you this
I sort of
um
liked the old Mexican ride. Maybe it has something to do with it borrowing footage from If You Had Wings. Anyway, I
used to like this ride
until it got hijacked. Those three caballeros are obnoxious and ubiquitous. They took a sweet little boat ride about Mexico and turned it into a shrill and abhorrent mess. The new characters add nothing but a disjointed and disorderly storyline (if you want to call it that) to the once-quaint trip through pseudo-Mexico. In other words, I hate the addition. And Im not alone. All three of the men agree that this attraction reeked. In fact, it is so awful that Mitchell even broke his personal Code of Silence to tell me this: Its your fault that we had a bad time. You know, since it was my suggestion and all.
By the time we got out of Mexico, Illuminations is about to begin. We walk along the lagoon toward the International Gateway. I start stammering, So
Tim
uh
any plans after Epcot? Like
do you guys have reservations somewhere
or were you planning on going straight back to the condo or
Yes Hucifer, Ill drop you off at your resort, Tim says.
You are the BEST. No, seriously. You are.
As we continue our journey through the lagoon, Illuminations begins in all its grandeur: fireworks, noises and all the terror that goes with it for many children. Right on cue, a toddler close to me starts crying. It takes all the strength that I have NOT to go up to crying toddlers and comfort them. Like once youre a mom, some maternal instinct is born
and it takes over your body whenever a little one is crying
the next thing you know youre sprinting to them, scooping them up and smothering them with kisses to make everything better. Its how were built. A stranger toddler? Doesnt matter. My body is still jerking in the direction of the crying child. Its very difficult to keep walking and hoping that their own mother is taking care of things.
And, needless to say, it is another moment of missing Patrick.
By the time we reach the International Gateway, we decide to leave the park and head out to the Boardwalk where Tim the Talker has parked his vehicle. Yes, hes a renegade resort-parker too. Where do you think I learned it from? As we walk toward the Boardwalk, we hear the unmistakable sounds of cicadas chirping in the trees.
Those are chickadas, Tim says to me, trying to sound all wildlife-savvy.
Really? I ask, twirling my hair with my finger and looking all wide-eyed. Chickadas? Gosh Tim, I have so much to learn from you. Is that a Mexican cicada? Do they wear tiny sombreros?
I continue to razz the poor soul all the way back to the car. Do they eat tiny tacos? For the first time all day, Tim is dead silent. Im surprised he doesnt retract his offer to drive me to my room
or fire me when we got back to the office. We climb into his car, Mitchell and Justin in the back seat and me in the passengers seat. Im sure Tim is more than happy to kick me out of the car once we reached Port Orleans. I open the car door, stand up, and turn back to face the backseat. And for petes sake, shut UP back there, I say to Justin and Mitchell.
And then, It was nice to meet you, Justin. Again.
The little guy who was waiting for me by my room. Apparently word gets around how I bring males to wheelchairs. And yes, the picture quality sucks and the caption is bigger than the picture.
Coming up: Day 6: The Return of Cast Member Hucifer