You may have noticed by now the extreme lack of pictures in this TR. I guarantee plenty of images to come, but not yet. In fact, if I dont manage to get beyond the TL portion of the day in this update, there will be NO pics in this chapter.
Why?
Because I was sporting my new, super-sleek, teeny-tiny Canon SD1000 camera for the trip. I looove this camera and there was no way Id chance bringing it to TL to meet its untimely demise in the wave pool or through some strangers five-finger discount. Nuh-uh. So Ill just have to illustrate this story using colorful verbiage. Which is completely different from colorful language. TFI.
Aside
In my college freshman Creative Writing class, I had this ancient professor who insisted that we use color in our writing. He didnt mean colorful, he meant COLOR. As in it was a golden moment, suspended between the darkest charcoal of her past and the twinkling azure heralding her return to verdant fields of verdigris, a life worth living. I was no good at color. I consider myself a pretty decent writer, but I like to keep it real; creative fiction (trip reports not withstanding) aint my gig. So whenever someone uses the term colorful to describe writing, I remember that old coot who made me pepper my otherwise smooth, rational writing with a bunch of unnecessary, rainbow-colored verbal trash. Not that Im bitter.
Ahem.
So, I drove away from the hoards of teenagers sweeping through the far-too-narrow pathways of AK and pointed the car toward Typhoon Lagoon (TL). As we entered the parking lot, I felt awash in chartreuse. I mean, I got worried. Because TL had only been open about an hour, and the lot was PACKED. I toured row after row after row and couldnt find an open space closer than 16 rows back.
I tried Plan B:
Leo, it looks really, really busy here today. How about we head over to our hotel and swim in the pool there? Its the one with the cool pyramid and jaguar slide!
Nope. Wanna go to TL.
We went back and forth on the issue a few more times, and I finally agreed to at least try TL. I figured we were early enough to beat the lunch rush, so wed get something to eat, assess the crowd level and then decide whether to not to stay.
Leo was right. TL wound up being a great choice!
Sure enough, there wasnt much activity at Leaning Palms and we got some lunch pretty quickly. It wouldve been quicker if the large family using the
DDP ahead of us had even a slight clue as to how the DDP worked. And it wouldve been even
quicker had the CM ringing up the clueless family not been clueless herself about the DDP.
And thats all Ill say about that.
With plenty of open tables from which to choose, Leo and I selected one next to Castaway Creek and enjoyed our lunch whilst watching the floaters. Float by. On floats.
Afterward, we hit the changing room to switch from AK gear to swimming gear and set off in search of a chair or two. Again, no problem there were plenty available! We wound up in an old favorite spot, to the far left of the wave pool, just behind and sort of above the Bay Slides for kids under 60 tall. Its relatively quiet back there, but is conveniently located between Ketchakiddie Creek and the wave pool.
With towels laid out and sunscreen applied we headed for Leos first choice of activity the Bay Slides.
Look. I may very well be cold-blooded. Even spending half my life in Buffalo, NY, Ive never enjoyed swimming in cold, cool, or even tepid water. My preferred pool temp hovers between 85 and 90. 90 to 95 is good, too. Anything below 85 gives me the chills. Theres a reason I live in Florida.
But, even in FL, water temps drop in the winter and, without aid of a heat pump, pools stay cool until June-ish. So I had some doubts about TL. I knew WDW heats their water to 82 (and Im convinced they chill it in summer there is NO way those pools can maintain temps below 85 in August on their own), so I was pretty sure we wouldnt freeze. But who wants to spend the day chilled, either? Not V.
So we walked down to the edge of the wave pool and stuck a few toes in
..
Not bad. Up to our ankles
.
Moving along nicely. Knee-level?...
Hmmm. A tad prickly. But tolerable. Definitely tolerable. But. I would NOT be getting wet higher than mid-thigh. V had spoken.
Leo, on the other hand, had no water temp issues at all and began his routine in earnest. Up the steps, wait in line, down the slide, wade back to the steps. Up the steps, wait in line, down the slide, wade back to the steps. Up the steps, wait in line, down the slide, wade back to the steps. Up the steps, wait in line, down the slide, wade back to the steps. Up the steps, wait in line, down the slide, wade back to the steps. Up the steps, wait in line, down the slide, wade back to the steps. Up the steps, wait in line, down the slide, wade back to the steps. Up the steps, wait in line, down the slide, wade back to the steps. Up the steps, wait in line, down the slide, wade back to the steps. Up the steps, wait in line, down the slide, wade back to the steps. Up the steps, wait in line, down the slide, wade back to the steps.
Up the steps, wait in line, down the slide, wade back to the steps. Up the steps, wait in line, down the slide, wade back to the steps. Up the steps, wait in line, down the slide, wade back to the steps.
Im not sure just how long this went on, but believe me on it indeed went. At some point we headed over to Ketchakiddie Creek to do the tube slide and the belly slides a few times. But we were quickly back to the wave pool and Bay Slides.
I didnt have a lot to do whilst Leo slid, so I had some time to ruminate.
About tan colors.
I know. But it gets worse later, so enjoy this.
Heres the thing: I have me some strange skin coloring. My dad was 100% Italian. Mom brings French, Irish and a little German into the mix. I wound up with very fair skin with a slight olive undertone.
Note the use of colorful verbiage.
Fair with olive undertones sounds a lot better in words than it looks in life. With no tan, Im just plain fair, which works fine with my dark hair and eyes. Add a little sun and I start looking jaundiced. Full-on, melanoma-inducing tan and Im, as my dad used to say, Brown as a berry.
I spent most of my life in Buffalo, where I saw sunlight for about 4.73 hours a year. Dad lived in south FL. I spent Spring breaks and summers with him. Dad never burned in his life; he just got darker and darker as those Sicilian roots embraced the suns rays and defied any attempt at damage. Consequently, Dad never owned sunscreen.
Take a moment and imagine what my fair, sunless skin did with no sunscreen after eight hours on the beach in Miami. In August.
Did you see blistering burn? If so, give yourself 50 points. But, once my poor epidermis accepted the fact that it wasnt going to receive any form of protection for another 3 weeks, it gave up and did eventually become brown-ish.
Getting back to the present, I no longer abuse my skin that way and avoid long-term exposure to that great ball of fire in the sky. I use sunscreen any time Ill be outside for an extended period, but Im not religious about it; I go bare just running errands and the like. So by April, I had a touch of sun. Meaning I was a tad yellow-green.
And as I stood there watching Leo go up and down the water slides, I started noticing the variety of tan colors surrounding me.
Brazilian bronze.
Germanic gold.
Mediterranean olive.
British
. pink.
LY Jo!
No one, but NO ONE was yellow-green. I resolved there at TL to find a self-tanner with a scent that didnt make me vomit and that would result in something more normal-looking. (P.S. havent found one yet)
Of course, the olive-green swimsuit into which Id stuffed myself wasnt exactly helping the situation. Which brings me to the
next rumination of the day
Swimsuits.
Id just bought a couple before this trip. Found them at Target. Both were tankinis with skirted bottoms to hide my problem area.
Hi. Im V and I have chubby thighs.
Chubby thighs are something of a blessing in daily apparel. I mean, if I have to have fat body parts (and Im slowly coming to accept that inevitability as I approach 40), how great is it to have it in an easily-disguised area? A-line skirts, bootleg pants, Empire waists
I freely admit that I
like how I look in clothes.
Swimsuits are another story.
I thought the skirted bottoms were a great solution. Until I looked around at TL. Heres what I found skirted bottoms look old. Granny-old. No matter how old ones chubby thighs may be, the skirted bottom adds the appropriate number of years necessary to reach 75.
Look away, Im hideous.
I saw all manner of suits that day, on all manner of shapes. And one thing rang true in every case: a regular, full-piece or even tankini, suit that covers the rear and comes up a touch above the thighs is the hands-down, no other offers accepted, best possible look around.
And preferably not olive colored.
About the time Id determined my need for a new skin tone and new swimsuit collection, Leo came up to hug me and I noticed he was covered in goose bumps and shivering. Time to take this party to the lounge chairs to thaw.
We sat a spell in the sun and then decided on a walk and a treat. But not in that order.
Leo wanted a Mickey ice cream treat, so we first stopped at Lowtide Lous (conveniently located just behind our resting spot), where I shelled out half a mortgage payment for a Mickey head that took a nose-dive straight to the concrete halfway through.
Then we moseyed around the path toward Shark Reef, where Leo enjoys going down into the sub to make faces in the windows at the snorkelers.
When we once again reached our chairs, Leo said, Im done. Lets go Mommy. And that was that! We headed back up to the changing rooms and grabbed a stall in which to shed the damp swimsuits and switch to dry street clothes.
And thats when IT happened.
IT being one of the truly grossest, undeniably most atrocious teenage acts of which Ive been the victim
As I stepped a foot into my shorts, something flew over the top of our stall, bounced off Leos head and landed on top of our towels in my beach bag as a group of teenage girls walked by, giggling. I looked at it and realized
IT was a ROLLED UP PANTY-LINER!!!!!!!!!!!
I was about a thousand different shades of EEEEWWWWWW!!! as Leo repeatedly asked, Whats that Mommy? I didnt even answer. And I have an answer for everything. Or so my mother says. I just tilted my bag so it rolled off to the floor and tried not to look that direction as I hurriedly finished up and got the heck out of there.
But that stupid panty-liner was still in my thoughts as I scrubbed Leos head by the sink. Who would do something like that, and WHY??? Is this what our society has come to we allow so much freedom that the only way to rebel is the great panty-liner toss? Is this the new TP? The new wedgy? The new swirly?
No wait. Nothing is worse than the swirly. Except clowns.
If Id needed any further sign that it was time to GO, that was it. We were out of there.
About two(2) hours at TL and we were back on the road. But where oh where was that road headed?
1dd
,& Dwife. 2 dGS are <6 yo. That semicolon period thing just never made sense to me. That's why I stick to the numbers
We'll be waiting!!!
Great mental picture!
I am so sorry that happened to Leo and you. That's completely the most vile thing I have ever heard. Her parents must be proud. 
