MsSpinShady
Mouseketeer<br><font color="3d8e33">I'm always lat
- Joined
- Nov 9, 2003
- Messages
- 469
Cast of characters:
Mom (aka Me) -- DW, 39 The Keeper of the Plan and knower of all things Disney
Dad -- DH, 38 I came to Disney and I came.
Mini-Me -- DS, 15 Knows as much about Disney as me (probably more since hes young and can remember stuff better)
Mr. Bobolin -- DS, 12 a childhood nickname that has nothing to do with Disney but may cause some embarrassment should a future girlfriend ever read this report
The Irish Princess -- DD, 4 red curly hair, grey-green eyes, and the ability to turn her face red and blow steam out her ears by clenching her fists and stomping her feet
Baby Abby -- DD, 1 along for the ride (kinda like Daddy!)
Day 3: We Failed Challenge 3!
After only one night, the Clan has already voted the Polynesian our favorite resort. We are thrilled that we are staying 8 more nights. Some of us are starting to plot a way to stay here forever.
One of the features of the Poly is that the rooms are larger than most other rooms on property. They can hold five people and a child under 3. Now, cramming a family of six into a square box the size of the average kitchen might be a challenge for less adventurous souls, but this family togetherness thing is right up our alley. Dad and I have discovered, to our amazement, that no matter the size of a house, it is inevitable that all six of us will eventually end up in the same room. Four bedrooms? Who needs them? Want to watch television? So does everyone else. Not the same program, mind you, just the same television set. Of course, that always leads to a conversation that is some variation of:
Mr. Bobolin: I was here first. I just went to get a drink.
Mini-Me: No you werent. No one was here.
Mr. Bobolin: Give me the remote back.
Mini-Me: No. I want to watch something.
The Irish Princess (who by now has heard the commotion and isnt going to be left out of this): I hate this program. Can we watch a little kids show?
Mr. Bobolin: I was watching something. I was here first.
So you see, the room size is really irrelevant to us, although I will say for the record that we have stayed in value and moderate rooms and the extra room at the Poly was great. It provided just enough free space to provide a little path through the mountain of luggage, eliminating the need to bring the hiking shoes and long rope we usually need to make it to the other side of the room. And all those spinning, glowing, wallet-lightening novelties you pick up every night at the park end up making great runway lights down the path and towards the bathroom.
So anyway, we have laughed off the Getting to the Airport On Time Challenge, and sailed through the Get Checked In and to the Park in Time for the Traditional Clan on Main Street Shot Challenge. But Day 3 presents us with a doosey Early Entry. Yes, this is our fourth trip to Disney, but I am ashamed to admit we have never made it to a park opening on an EE day. Not that we havent tried. The best we have managed so far was to arrive at 8:30 a.m. one morning for an EE day at MGM. That was the trip with two connecting rooms at Pop Century. Im pretty sure the second bathroom was the key.
The Day 3 wake-up call goes much smoother than Day 2, and this time there is a traffic jam at the bathroom door. This presents a unique dilemma. How do we determine who gets to go in first? Should we do it based on perceived need (whos jumping the highest and holding back tears) or seniority (sometimes being old comes in handy)? Maybe we should just flip a coin. While Im pondering this interesting new development, the kids solve the problem by pushing each other back and forth until one of them gets through the doorway and locks the door. Good! Im glad to see those negotiation skills weve taught them are being put to good use.
After almost 2 ½ hours (yes, you did read that right), we are finally on our way to EE at MGM. Guess what? We missed it. Although we have failed our first challenge this vacation, we still have several more days to achieve our goal. Im a little shaken by this lack of adherence to The Plan (I did, after all, spend a good six months of my life creating it), but Im more excited to be at MGM and quickly regroup.
This year, The Irish Princess has insisted that she is old enough and brave enough to ride the Tower of Terror. Now, the TOT is my favorite ride of all time. Like Mr. Bobolins obsession with Big Thunder, I could ride TOT all day long. However, the rest of the Clan thinks this is a stupid idea, because they would be bored standing there all day waiting for me. I know what youre probably thinking: Why dont I go off for ice cream treats, get lost, and spend the afternoon riding to my hearts content? Now Ive never really considered that, but lets just say that if I had considered it, and given it any amount of thought, and plotted the best spot in the park to get lost from, and determined the optimal time to do that, lets just say that I would probably determine in the end that it wouldnt work because they would know exactly where to find me. So, off we go to the TOT with The Irish Princess insisting this is the ride for her.
Now, I know this is a bad idea. Im arguing with Dad all the way down Sunset Blvd. that we should save this particular experience for next time for The Irish Princess. But then he gives me The Look. The Look is not like The Stare. The Stare means something like, You are acting strange and Im not sure I want to deal with you. Stop asking me stupid questions. The Look means, You are singlehandedly ruining your childs self-esteem and setting her up for a lifetime of therapy. Of course she is old enough and brave enough to go on this ride. Shame on you. Now, dont get me wrong, I didnt just give in to The Look (at least not at first). I valiantly fought back, but The Irish Princess was begging and Dad thought this would be a lot of fun. So, I reluctantly agreed to bring her on with us, under the condition that we would run for the chicken exit the minute she decided she was not that old and brave. As you have probably guessed, that minute came the second the elevator door closed and the lights went out. The Irish Princess has vowed never to go on the TOT again.
After this fun feat, Dad let me ride again with Mini-Me, who had been babysitting Baby Abby while we rode with The Irish Princess. By the time we came back out, Mr. Bobolin was not a happy camper. We had been at MGM all this time and he was stuck helping out with Baby Abby and waiting for everyone else (hes NOT a TOT fan). So off we go to RnRC, where we take turns doing the baby swap thing (which, in reality, is the You Stand Outside While I Ride and Then Ill Stand Outside While You Ride Thing. No special passes or fairy godmothers swooping down to watch the kids or anything.)
Because I had worked on The Plan for many months, I had it practically memorized. So about now Im herding the Clan over to Prime Time for our lunch PS. I was glad we had a PS, because they were already turning people away who did not have reservations. We arrive about ten minutes early, and Dad runs in to check us in while I try to keep tabs on all the kids, who at this point have scattered out front of the restaurant. I was looking around and under and through things, trying to at least keep tabs on the fastest ones in the bunch. What it really looked like I was doing was a strange impersonation of a turkey bobbing its head and making strange clucking noises.
Dad comes back out with a look of concern on his face that I interpret to mean They are out of meatloaf. Now most people do not travel over 1200 miles to eat out and order meatloaf. Why, even I can whip up a fair approximation of that at home. But Dad is a real home-cooking meat and potatoes kind of guy, and a meatloaf-less Prime Time could spell disaster for the rest of the day. I was ready to assure him that the fried chicken was just as good. But what came out of his mouth sounded instead like, they do not have a reservation for us. Huh? How could that be? I planned and re-planned. Checked and re-checked. We had a PS for Prime Time Café, I made it myself. Oh, but not to panic. I had typed up a little card that I put in his wallet with all the PS numbers on it. All we had to do was take that reservation number in there, and everything would be fine.
So Dad pulls out the little piece of paper, looks at it and then announces, Our PS for Prime Time is not until next Tuesday. Todays is Sci-Fi Theater. Oh. Whew. Thought I had screwed up a PS. Turns out Im only losing my mind.
So we collect four children and do a roll call (a head count wont do here -- what if we were to get halfway over to the Theater and discover wed grabbed the wrong kid? Wed have to traipse all the way back to Prime Time to make the exchange and wed end up being late for our PS). So with the correct four children in tow, we head off to lunch (again).
After quite a wait, we were finally seated. I would recommend that if there is ever a restaurant you want to experience, make a PS. This was supposed to be value season and they were actually turning people away, telling them they were booked for the rest of the day!
Anyway, Sci-Fi is one of our favorites. Being the connoisseurs of fine food that we are, their shakes and onion rings are not to be missed. One hour and $100 later, we leave the Sci-Fi and the negotiations begin. Baby Abby has to see Playhouse Disney. Mr. Bobolin and Mini-Me will not be caught dead there. So the Clan breaks up, with plans to meet up again later and use some of the 50 or so fast passes weve been accumulating all day for the TOT and RnRC.
At about 6:30 p.m. weve regrouped and the majority vote to skip Fantasmic tonight and head back to the Poly so that we can grab a quick dinner and head over to the MK, which is open until 11 p.m. Now remember, Me and Mini-Me are park commandos. Mr. Bobolin wants to ride Big Thunder. Dad decides to go back to the room with The Irish Princess and Baby Abby and let them watch the Disney stories before they go to sleep while the rest of us hit the MK. Sounds like a plan to me!
Off we go! The boys and I had a blast, even catching SpectroMagic (cool!). We get back to the Poly, to discover Dads mission went better than expected. Both Baby Abby and The Irish Princess are sound asleep. Of course, so is he
Mom (aka Me) -- DW, 39 The Keeper of the Plan and knower of all things Disney
Dad -- DH, 38 I came to Disney and I came.
Mini-Me -- DS, 15 Knows as much about Disney as me (probably more since hes young and can remember stuff better)
Mr. Bobolin -- DS, 12 a childhood nickname that has nothing to do with Disney but may cause some embarrassment should a future girlfriend ever read this report
The Irish Princess -- DD, 4 red curly hair, grey-green eyes, and the ability to turn her face red and blow steam out her ears by clenching her fists and stomping her feet
Baby Abby -- DD, 1 along for the ride (kinda like Daddy!)
Day 3: We Failed Challenge 3!
After only one night, the Clan has already voted the Polynesian our favorite resort. We are thrilled that we are staying 8 more nights. Some of us are starting to plot a way to stay here forever.
One of the features of the Poly is that the rooms are larger than most other rooms on property. They can hold five people and a child under 3. Now, cramming a family of six into a square box the size of the average kitchen might be a challenge for less adventurous souls, but this family togetherness thing is right up our alley. Dad and I have discovered, to our amazement, that no matter the size of a house, it is inevitable that all six of us will eventually end up in the same room. Four bedrooms? Who needs them? Want to watch television? So does everyone else. Not the same program, mind you, just the same television set. Of course, that always leads to a conversation that is some variation of:
Mr. Bobolin: I was here first. I just went to get a drink.
Mini-Me: No you werent. No one was here.
Mr. Bobolin: Give me the remote back.
Mini-Me: No. I want to watch something.
The Irish Princess (who by now has heard the commotion and isnt going to be left out of this): I hate this program. Can we watch a little kids show?
Mr. Bobolin: I was watching something. I was here first.
So you see, the room size is really irrelevant to us, although I will say for the record that we have stayed in value and moderate rooms and the extra room at the Poly was great. It provided just enough free space to provide a little path through the mountain of luggage, eliminating the need to bring the hiking shoes and long rope we usually need to make it to the other side of the room. And all those spinning, glowing, wallet-lightening novelties you pick up every night at the park end up making great runway lights down the path and towards the bathroom.
So anyway, we have laughed off the Getting to the Airport On Time Challenge, and sailed through the Get Checked In and to the Park in Time for the Traditional Clan on Main Street Shot Challenge. But Day 3 presents us with a doosey Early Entry. Yes, this is our fourth trip to Disney, but I am ashamed to admit we have never made it to a park opening on an EE day. Not that we havent tried. The best we have managed so far was to arrive at 8:30 a.m. one morning for an EE day at MGM. That was the trip with two connecting rooms at Pop Century. Im pretty sure the second bathroom was the key.
The Day 3 wake-up call goes much smoother than Day 2, and this time there is a traffic jam at the bathroom door. This presents a unique dilemma. How do we determine who gets to go in first? Should we do it based on perceived need (whos jumping the highest and holding back tears) or seniority (sometimes being old comes in handy)? Maybe we should just flip a coin. While Im pondering this interesting new development, the kids solve the problem by pushing each other back and forth until one of them gets through the doorway and locks the door. Good! Im glad to see those negotiation skills weve taught them are being put to good use.
After almost 2 ½ hours (yes, you did read that right), we are finally on our way to EE at MGM. Guess what? We missed it. Although we have failed our first challenge this vacation, we still have several more days to achieve our goal. Im a little shaken by this lack of adherence to The Plan (I did, after all, spend a good six months of my life creating it), but Im more excited to be at MGM and quickly regroup.
This year, The Irish Princess has insisted that she is old enough and brave enough to ride the Tower of Terror. Now, the TOT is my favorite ride of all time. Like Mr. Bobolins obsession with Big Thunder, I could ride TOT all day long. However, the rest of the Clan thinks this is a stupid idea, because they would be bored standing there all day waiting for me. I know what youre probably thinking: Why dont I go off for ice cream treats, get lost, and spend the afternoon riding to my hearts content? Now Ive never really considered that, but lets just say that if I had considered it, and given it any amount of thought, and plotted the best spot in the park to get lost from, and determined the optimal time to do that, lets just say that I would probably determine in the end that it wouldnt work because they would know exactly where to find me. So, off we go to the TOT with The Irish Princess insisting this is the ride for her.
Now, I know this is a bad idea. Im arguing with Dad all the way down Sunset Blvd. that we should save this particular experience for next time for The Irish Princess. But then he gives me The Look. The Look is not like The Stare. The Stare means something like, You are acting strange and Im not sure I want to deal with you. Stop asking me stupid questions. The Look means, You are singlehandedly ruining your childs self-esteem and setting her up for a lifetime of therapy. Of course she is old enough and brave enough to go on this ride. Shame on you. Now, dont get me wrong, I didnt just give in to The Look (at least not at first). I valiantly fought back, but The Irish Princess was begging and Dad thought this would be a lot of fun. So, I reluctantly agreed to bring her on with us, under the condition that we would run for the chicken exit the minute she decided she was not that old and brave. As you have probably guessed, that minute came the second the elevator door closed and the lights went out. The Irish Princess has vowed never to go on the TOT again.
After this fun feat, Dad let me ride again with Mini-Me, who had been babysitting Baby Abby while we rode with The Irish Princess. By the time we came back out, Mr. Bobolin was not a happy camper. We had been at MGM all this time and he was stuck helping out with Baby Abby and waiting for everyone else (hes NOT a TOT fan). So off we go to RnRC, where we take turns doing the baby swap thing (which, in reality, is the You Stand Outside While I Ride and Then Ill Stand Outside While You Ride Thing. No special passes or fairy godmothers swooping down to watch the kids or anything.)
Because I had worked on The Plan for many months, I had it practically memorized. So about now Im herding the Clan over to Prime Time for our lunch PS. I was glad we had a PS, because they were already turning people away who did not have reservations. We arrive about ten minutes early, and Dad runs in to check us in while I try to keep tabs on all the kids, who at this point have scattered out front of the restaurant. I was looking around and under and through things, trying to at least keep tabs on the fastest ones in the bunch. What it really looked like I was doing was a strange impersonation of a turkey bobbing its head and making strange clucking noises.
Dad comes back out with a look of concern on his face that I interpret to mean They are out of meatloaf. Now most people do not travel over 1200 miles to eat out and order meatloaf. Why, even I can whip up a fair approximation of that at home. But Dad is a real home-cooking meat and potatoes kind of guy, and a meatloaf-less Prime Time could spell disaster for the rest of the day. I was ready to assure him that the fried chicken was just as good. But what came out of his mouth sounded instead like, they do not have a reservation for us. Huh? How could that be? I planned and re-planned. Checked and re-checked. We had a PS for Prime Time Café, I made it myself. Oh, but not to panic. I had typed up a little card that I put in his wallet with all the PS numbers on it. All we had to do was take that reservation number in there, and everything would be fine.
So Dad pulls out the little piece of paper, looks at it and then announces, Our PS for Prime Time is not until next Tuesday. Todays is Sci-Fi Theater. Oh. Whew. Thought I had screwed up a PS. Turns out Im only losing my mind.
So we collect four children and do a roll call (a head count wont do here -- what if we were to get halfway over to the Theater and discover wed grabbed the wrong kid? Wed have to traipse all the way back to Prime Time to make the exchange and wed end up being late for our PS). So with the correct four children in tow, we head off to lunch (again).
After quite a wait, we were finally seated. I would recommend that if there is ever a restaurant you want to experience, make a PS. This was supposed to be value season and they were actually turning people away, telling them they were booked for the rest of the day!
Anyway, Sci-Fi is one of our favorites. Being the connoisseurs of fine food that we are, their shakes and onion rings are not to be missed. One hour and $100 later, we leave the Sci-Fi and the negotiations begin. Baby Abby has to see Playhouse Disney. Mr. Bobolin and Mini-Me will not be caught dead there. So the Clan breaks up, with plans to meet up again later and use some of the 50 or so fast passes weve been accumulating all day for the TOT and RnRC.
At about 6:30 p.m. weve regrouped and the majority vote to skip Fantasmic tonight and head back to the Poly so that we can grab a quick dinner and head over to the MK, which is open until 11 p.m. Now remember, Me and Mini-Me are park commandos. Mr. Bobolin wants to ride Big Thunder. Dad decides to go back to the room with The Irish Princess and Baby Abby and let them watch the Disney stories before they go to sleep while the rest of us hit the MK. Sounds like a plan to me!
Off we go! The boys and I had a blast, even catching SpectroMagic (cool!). We get back to the Poly, to discover Dads mission went better than expected. Both Baby Abby and The Irish Princess are sound asleep. Of course, so is he
and we don't have a teenager yet.
