Orlando Arrival
When we last left our intrepid travellers, our youngest darling had just made the dreaded announcement Mommy, I poopy!, and of course this was NOT using his inside voice.

I glanced around to see how many poor passengers had heard this defecation declaration and luckily it appeared that a) there were still many empty seats near the front of the plane where we were and b) the ambient noise of boarding guests had muffled my toddler. I leaned in and explained to him that he was just going to have to wait until after take-off. Of course, this resulted in catching a whiff of said toddler. I rolled my eyes and hoped that the smell wouldnt permeate past our seats.
So, passengers boarded and buckled in, we taxied down the runway, into the air and levelled off at 35k feet rather quickly. I love Southwest! I watched that seatbelt sign like a hawk. As soon as the ding sounded, I was out of my seat with one toddler, one clean diaper, one change pad and the whole container of baby wipes. This was going to be fun
Just getting inside one of these airplane bathrooms is a chore, let alone trying to squeeze in with another body. I personally think the mile high club is a load of hooey! There is no possible way to fit two adult bodies in that space no matter how stick-thin you might be, and to contort in such a fashion as to actually be inducted into this exclusive club
youre all liars I say, LIARS!! But on to the task at hand
suffice to say Connor was none to thrilled with having his head jammed into the corner between the toilet and the wall whilst I bent his body in ways even the most flexible toddler is not supposed to be bent in order to clean his rear. Mission impossible but mission accomplished! Just to make sure, I wiped down the area with extra baby wipes, washed my hands twice and still pulled out the antibacterial gel once I got back to my seat for me and Connor. Ok kid, you can nap now
nope! He stayed awake and testy for the entire flight, and I used every one of the 147 items I packed in his carry-on to keep him occupied (ok, I might have exaggerated there on the number of items
there was only 24).
We landed in Orlando 15 minutes early.

As the flight attendant said in his welcome announcement, Remember that next time were late and well call it even. Did I mention how much I love Southwest?!

We are off the plane, bathroom break baby swap, and down to the baggage claim in record time and begin the wait for our luggage
all 6 pieces of checked luggage (yes, for only 2.5 of us, I know
). Now this part I hate because it takes soooooooo long, but this is the Orlando airport people, not Southwest people, cause we know theyre efficient. We know our bags made it on the plane down with us because we watched them being loaded from our window on the plane, me and the loaded toddler. Now its just a matter of waiting.

Dh didnt change into shorts on the plane, so he is still in jeans, t-shirt and sweatshirt. It was warm in the terminal, little air circulation, and he is starting to sweat. Connor is trying to get his fingers jammed in the luggage conveyor, announcing in his non-indoor voice to every bag that goes by that our suitcase? "CONNOR, get back from there!!" I offer to go get a trolley cart, because I know we still need to haul all this luggage and our carry-ons and one busy toddler down to the car rental desk, but dh is already in one of those moods
ladies, you know the one I mean
the one similar to when our men get lost on the drive, obviously lost, and the mere mention of stopping and asking for directions elicits the furrowed-brow, cave-man like grunt. Nope, hes got it covered. Ok
So, bags are collected, linked and stacked together in an architectural wonder and we proceed to the Alamo rental desk one floor down where I swear every passenger on our flight managed to beat us. Since I am the planning/organizing queen, I am the chosen one to stand in the line while dh is left to corral the leaning tower of luggage and one rambunctious, havent-had-my-nap-and-Im-now-overtired-and-wired-for-sound toddler. And he still hasnt taken off his sweatshirt. By the time Im through the line and collect all the paperwork I can see the steam emanating from his ears. Hes tired, hungry and sticky, hates line-ups, hates waiting, just wants to get there already and hes about to blow.

I, on the other hand am calm, not-so-cool, but collected, knowing that I have planned this trip so well that this will be the longest line we stand in. And it was long. 45 minutes to be precise. Wont make that mistake again. Next time I will register all my drivers licence, personal information and blood-type on-line with the car-rental reservation and by-pass all this waiting, internet security or not!!
We proceed to the parking garage with 6 bags, 3 backpacks, 2 adults and 1 toddler (and a partridge in a pear tree
) in tow and then decide to split up, dh heading for the escalator while I choose the elevator. I do not have a hand free to ensure the toddler jumps on and off the escalator at the appropriate moment without leaving any little toes in Florida this trip (not that we have ever left any little toes, but Im a little neurotic when it comes to ds and keeping him completely intact). Here is where the train heading down the track suddenly realizes the brakes have failed and there is no way to avoid the collision that is about to ensue. Figuratively of course since we are in an airport terminal and not a railway station, but this is certainly the state of dh as he paces back and forth up one level as ds and I are stuck in an elevator that doesnt want to go up. Thankfully we are not stuck-stuck or I would have been in a frantic panic.

Momentary flash-back to the big black-out of 2003. Most people in the north-eastern US and Ontario know of what I speak. I was on maternity leave at the time, picking up photos taken of the little guy the day before at our local grocery store photo studio. The power went out 4 minutes after I got off the elevator with ds in his stroller.

Had we been in that elevator, chances are good we would have been there for quite some time. Stuck. With no food, some baby formula, and no air conditioning. I have never quite gotten over the near-miss we had, and I can work myself up into almost a full-blown panic just at the thought. And Im not claustrophobic. Fast-forward to the airport and we get off the elevator not moving up and wait for the next elevator. And wait. And wait. I am (correctly) imagining dh above boiling over trying to find us. When we do finally get up to the second level and locate him, I can see the fire in his eyes. Hes ticked. More than that, but being a family board, I cant really use the appropriate words to describe the sentiments that were being directed my way telepathically (or psychopathically as it were).

We head towards the cars and of course, the aisle for the standard SUVs is on the opposite side of the garage from where we are. Dh, having left the reservation/planning to me, is not aware of why we are walking to the opposite end of the parking garage and starts to question. His voice is cracking, he is starting to get the girlie squeal going a little that he gets when hes realllllyyyy had it up to here with me. I keep walking, all the while telling Connor to slow down, stop, wait for Mommy, watch for the car coming, Connor come back, Connor, CONNOR! So now I am starting to lose it a little because I am also neurotic when it comes to ds and traffic. People ahead of us are snapping up their rental cars, loading luggage and squealing out of the parking spots eager to start their holidays. I am envisioning my ds being squashed by an Alamo rental car in the parking garage of the Orlando International Airport. I am now hollering at him in that voice. The voice I hate using because I hate hearing other parents use it, but frankly it is the only one that works. Where you have to raise your voice enough and have that tone that borders on an all out scream in order to get their attention and they know that you mean business. He stops, turns and scampers back with his little bottom lip stuck out. Ok, now I am the mean mommy and daddy is losing it completely. By the time we reach the aisle and discover that there are now standard SUVs left, I am beside myself. So, we proceed to do the unthinkable in my mind. There we are, the two adults on this trip, arguing loudly in the parking garage while our darling toddler is patiently standing there staring at us along with every other Alamo customer walking by.

As least I tried to whisper the cursing that inevitably ensues in these types of arguments. My apologies to any DISers that had to witness our white-trash moment.
Finally we decide amidst the yelling that we will just get in the vehicle closest to the standard SUV section, drive to the check-out and pay whatever upgrade we have to in order to get out of here and start this bleepin vacation! Im sure you can add your own colourful expletives and get a similar resulting heated conversation. We ended up not having to pay any extra, a quick check of our paperwork and we were on the way. Once the air conditioning was blasting and we were on the toll road, we both managed to calm down enough to realize we were really on our way to the magic and by the time we passed under the archway announcing the Happiest place on earth, we were all in a much better mood. Still not completely happy, but amenable at least.
Coming up
McDonalds on the dining plan?

And checking in