PART FIFTEEN:
I have a bad feeling that the Food & Wine Festival is about to become the Food & Whine Festival.
But Lowell has a point. The portions are small, especially for an appetizer that, in Lowell’s case, cost $3.75. And the Lilliputian wine glasses were barely half full. Maybe the booth operators don’t want you spilling drinks on yourselves while walking. White wine isn’t so bad, but spill red all over yourself and people will be looking around nervously for crazed gunmen. Or maybe crazed Vikings with swords; after all, this is Epcot. Besides, no one wants festival-goers all sloshed up, tripping over baby strollers and knocking down little old ladies.
I dig into the empanada with my pixie-sized fork, then glance at Lowell to see if he’s eating.
Lowell is not eating. In fact, he’s frowning at his fork. “They may as well give us a pair of tweezers to eat with.”
I try to distract him. “My empanada is good. Spicy, though. Try your sirloin.”
Lowell stabs the offending morsel with his forkette and tastes it warily. “Pretty good.”
I offer him a bite of mine.
“Ummm. Very tasty. I like it.”
“The only problem is, I have five sips of wine here and this spicy food is making me thirsty.” I realize an instant too late that I shouldn’t have said this. Now he’s off and running again.
“For $3.00 they should at least fill the glass. For $6.00 you could get a normal size glass of wine at a restaurant.”
“But this is supposed to be sample size,” I remind him.
“Fine. So charge $1.00 or $1.50 because that’s all that’s in here.”
I have to agree with him. Unless these wines are much more expensive and far superior to the ones we usually drink, $3.00 is a lot for five or six sips.
To be perfectly fair, Lowell is only slightly more value conscious than I am. The difference between us is that I’m willing to endure price gouging for something special like the Food & Wine Festival.
Being value conscious is not about how much something costs, it’s about paying a fair price for what you get. We aren’t afraid to spend money on something we really want, the price simply has to seem “worth it.” Cheap, on the other hand, is when you try to rinse ear wax off a Q-tip and reuse it. Or turn your engine off and coast down hills to save gas, despite the fact that you now have no power steering or brakes. Not that we have any relatives who do things like that. Ahem. Anyway, Lowell and I haven’t sunk to that level.
Lowell stops grumbling long enough to finish his appetizer and wine. I toss our plates, glasses and forkettes into the nearest trash can. It’s time to continue our quest for exotic over-priced treats.
Lowell is still muttering to himself when I drag him aside at the South Africa booth. We study the menu board.
“Since this stuff is too small to share, have whatever you want,” I tell him. “I’m going to have the Bobotie with Mango Chutney.”
“Is that another recommended food?”
“Yeah, but mostly I just like the word bobotie. Bobotie banana bana bo botie.” I actually get a smile out of him with that. Viva la sixties.
The other choice is Durban Chicken with Mealie Pap. The chicken part sounds safe enough, but I thought pap was some kind of glop you fed to babies. I’ll pass on that. We stick with boboties, $3.00 each. To wash it down we’ll get a glass of Kanu Chenin Blanc, $2.25 each. We place our orders and pay for the food, then wait in line. This line is much longer than the one in Argentina. Eventually we pick up the boboties and proceed to the woman who pours the wine.
She pours the first glass.
“You can fill it a little more,” Lowell says in a slightly irritable tone. I kick him in the ankle. Not too hard. Just a warning not to embarrass me.
Either the woman is ignoring him or she is an animatronic figure, incapable of varying her routine, because we get the same half full glasses as before. Fortunately, this wine is $2.25 rather than $3.00. We manage to walk and eat at the same time, then discard the plates and concentrate on the wine. The boboties were excellent. So is the wine. Too bad there isn’t more of it.
Although math in my head is risky at best, I arrive at an expenditure of $22.75 so far which would buy us a reasonably nice lunch at any counter service restaurant, and all we’ve had are two appetizers and two tiny servings of wine. I can see that this is quickly becoming a costly lunch. As for repeating this process for dinner? Not going to happen. Even if cost weren’t an issue, the time spent standing in line would be a problem. Every line we pass seems longer now, and the crowd has grown exponentially in the last hour.
I had completely forgotten the woman at All Star Music when we stumble across the China booth and I see: Green Tea Plum Wine Cooler. $4.75. My waning enthusiasm for the Food & Wine Festival kicks back into gear.
“Guess what!” I say excitedly.
Lowell perks up at my tone. “What?”
“Look! I bet that’s what the lady at the hotel was talking about; plum wine cooler.”
We see a couple glasses being served and lo and behold, no wine thimbles here, these babies are eight ounce glasses! Woo Hoo! I’ve had plum wine, a long time ago and liked it, and this combination with green tea sounds interesting. We cheerfully fork over $9.50.
This drink does not disappoint. Sweet, refreshing and slightly exotic. Now I have something that not only tastes great but there’s enough to actually quench my thirst. The Food & Wine Festival has redeemed itself. Green tea plum wine coolers are da bomb! They’re so good Lowell smiles. His mood noticeably improves.
The sun comes out from under a cloud. The sky is bluer. Birds sing cheerful songs.
Lines look shorter.
Screaming babies are suddenly cute.
Paunchy old men have Bow-Flex bodies.
Well, let’s not get too carried away. . . .
As we walk away I think again about the lady at ASMu. Only this time I’m not thinking about plum wine, I’m thinking about luggage. Our luggage. Because it’s nearly one o’clock and in a half hour our bags should be making their journey to the Wilderness Lodge. I hope our bags get loaded in the right van, and don’t end up on a safari at the Animal Kingdom Lodge, or get dumped into a pit with the luau pig at the Polynesian.
We thread our way through the crowd of giggling teenagers, families with strollers, young couples in love holding hands. I move mechanically with little conscious thought, only half aware of my surroundings. My mind is already at the Lodge.
Check-in at ASMu was reasonably quick. Would we have the same luck at the Lodge? Especially at the official check-in time of 3:00? It might be a madhouse at that hour, with lines of tired, irritable travelers circling the lobby. I remind myself that the Lodge is a deluxe resort. They probably handle check-in much differently than at a lowly Value Resort like the All Stars. No doubt the Lodge has pleasantly advanced, high-tech systems to speed guests through the check-in process.
In fact, I can see it in my mind: The Carousel of Process.
Once the first Cast Member takes your information and assigns you a room, music begins to play, the floor in front of the check-in counter rotates clockwise, and you come out in a new room with another counter and a new Cast Member to take care of your ADRs and Magic My Way Tickets. After you finish there, music begins to play, you rotate again and come to Bell Services, who brings you your stored luggage and loads a carrier with any bags you want taken to your room. Music plays again. The final rotation dumps you off in the gift shop so you can drop a few hundred dollars on useless do-dads before you head up to your room. The familiar catchy music in the background as we rotate through each room is the tune I remember, but the lyrics are a bit different:
"There's a great big beautiful room waiting,
So check us in right now without delay.
There’s a great big room with your best rating,
And an upgrade is a dream away.
We have a dream and that’s the start
Now you cooperate and do your part
And when we get our courtyard view
There’ll be a tip from us to you
So there’s a great big beautiful room waiting,
A suite is where we’d really like to stay.
With marble bath and lavish decorating,
An upgrade is a dream a way.”
Lowell yanks me out of the path of three laughing boys in horned Viking hats, which snaps me back to the present. I drink the remainder of my plum wine cooler while softly humming that tune.
Now free from carrying food or wine, I decide to take some photos of the various countries, but when I get ready to take the first shot, I see that my battery is low. I manage to take a couple pictures before the battery gives its last coughing gasp and expires.
Lowell stops near the menu board in Italy. I decide to try Timballo alla Penne e Capri, $3.50, because I like anything with eggplant in it. Happily, eggplant has very few calories. During my pre-vacation diet, I had eaten eggplant so many days in a row that I started to develop a purple rind. I switched to cooked cabbage. That was fine for a week or two, but then I started to spontaneously break into Irish folk songs at odd moments.
Lowell orders Pizza alla Salsciccia $3.00 which, as close as I can tell, is more or less normal pizza with a fancy Italian name. He also orders Zeppole Fritte al Cioccolato, $2.75. We don’t know what that is, but it has the word chocolate in it, and this man would probably eat boiled shoe leather if you dipped it in chocolate.
Now, thanks to green tea plum wine cooler, and Lowell’s daily dose of chocolate, all signs of his bad temper are gone. And if that weren’t enough, when we get to Morocco, a belly dancer is performing. Fortunately, a crowd of people blocks most of his view. The idea of Lowell watching a scantily dressed woman with an elastic spine and motorized hips makes me slightly jealous. And a little worried. After our last trip to Hawaii, the vintage grass skirt he’d bought years ago at an auction turned up in our closet, and after I found a more ingenious hiding place for the skirt, I still spent a couple months steering him past coconuts in the grocery store.
As luck would have it, the belly dancer’s performance is nearly over. Lowell’s eyes are locked on the woman with hypnotic fascination.
“When I snap my fingers and count to three, you will leap in the air and bark like a dog,” I say near his ear. He doesn’t move or crack a smile. The trance isn’t broken until the woman finishes her act and the crowd applauds. A sharp poke in his ribs coaxes him into motion and we continue our tour through World Showcase.
My interest in appetizers is fading. I’m not hungry anymore, and I’m not in the mood to stand in many more lines. My blisters haven’t given me too much trouble, but I’m aware of them. I check my pedometer and let out a, “Whoa!”
Lowell glances at me. “Lots of steps today?”
“Yeah, I’m at 13,276. I think that’s a new record and the day is only half over. We have plenty more walking to do.”
“What other foods do you want to try?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe the cheese soup in Canada. I heard it’s to die for.”
We pass a few more booths as we walk toward Canada reading the menu boards along the way. Nothing excites me enough to stand in line. When we reach the Canada booth, I’m relieved to see few people waiting. In addition to Canadian Cheddar Cheese Soup, $2.75, they have Maple Custard topped with Almond Cookies, $1.25. Sounds yummy. We decide to get two soups and split a custard. The soup is as good as reported. I don’t want to think about the calories or the artery-choking fats in all this cheese. I promised you readers I’d force-feed myself unhealthy fattening foods for your sakes, and report what we liked, and I’m a woman of my word. Get the cheese soup. The best food bargain at the Festival, however, has to be the maple custard at only $1.25. We should have gotten two. Or maybe six. I give Lowell credit for sharing it with me, because if it had been mine, I would have run through the crowd stuffing my face with it before he could catch me. It was that good. Really.
I’m glad we’re ending our tour of the Food & Whine Festival on an upbeat note. I link my arm through Lowell’s, excitement bubbling through me. “Guess what?’
“What?”
“We’re going to the Wilderness Lodge. Right Now. And we’re staying there for two nights. It doesn’t seem real.”
We walk in happy silence. Even my blisters can’t spoil my enthusiasm. The walk to the monorail seems miles long, but we finally board and hear the familiar, “Please stand clear of the doors.” I settle back and enjoy the ride, watching the land pass beneath us as we whoosh away toward the TTC where we will change trains for the Magic Kingdom. We could have taken a bus from Epcot to the Lodge, but that’s not how I envision our arrival. I want to savor the sense of anticipation we’ll feel as we cross the lake on the boat and see the distant towers and green roof of the Wilderness Lodge grow closer.
The train pulls in at the TTC. We dart through the opening monorail doors and hurry to catch the MK train. It pulls in within a couple minutes, we board and once again are whisked away. When we pull in at the MK stop, I feel a brief stab of regret that we won’t be visiting this park during our trip. Infectious cheerful music surrounds us as we hurry down the ramp and weave through streams of people heading into the park.
We cut across the pavement and head for the boat launch station that takes people to Fort Wilderness and the Wilderness Lodge. The boat hasn’t arrived yet. A few parents and children are lined up in the waiting area, some holding bags of goodies purchased at the MK. We join the line. A warm breeze lifts my hair as I look across the lake and see the approach of a boat bearing the Wilderness Lodge’s green flag. The captain gives a cheery toot of the horn as he motors closer and glides forward alongside the dock.
A Cast Member unlatches the rope to let passengers off the boat onto the platform. Excited children and smiling parents spill out of the boat, passing by us as they hurry off toward the Magic Kingdom. Finally the boat is empty, and the captain gives us the OK to board. Since Lowell and I are near the front of the line we make a beeline for the outdoor seats in the bow. We exchange happy glances as people fill in around us and the boat finally pushes away from the dock.
The main object of our whirlwind trip is to stay at the Lodge. In a few minutes, we’ll finally be there.
Bari: I love when people read my work to family. I hope your DH and DS will enjoy future episodes as well. Don't feel bad for falling for the refillable mug service announcement, a lot of people made it nearly to the end before they realized it was a joke. As for the growing suspense over the "thing which must not be mentioned" and our room assignment, I have given you a bit of new suspense at the end of the current episode to distract you. 
great episode! Love the cliffhanger!
Excellent! I've always wanted to be in on one of those, being something of a Star-Trek fan, myself. Has anyone else ever wondered why they don't just shut down that troublesome Holodeck? 
