PART TWENTY SEVEN:
I had packed a pair of open toe shoes with heels for the express purpose of Afternoon Tea. Somehow it doesnt seem right to schlep into the Garden View Lounge at the Grand Floridian in sloppy sandals or brown loafers. I almost never wear shoes with heels now that I have a home office where no one sees me but Lowell. This should be interesting.
After slipping into black slacks and a red and black blouse, I wedge protesting feet into the shoes and do a test walk from the bed to the door and back. The shoes compress my toes, and walking on heels feels as unsteady as trying to cross the room on a high wire. No doubt I look wobbily as well. Anyone who sees me walking will pity the poor woman with two prosthetic legs.
Lowell finishes dressing. No heels for him, lucky dog. Ill cling to his arm to make sure I dont pitch headfirst into the boat or break my leg getting off the monorail. Fortunately, its quite Victorian to take a mans arm while walking, so Ill be right in style when we reach the Grand Floridian.
We take a different route from our room to the boat dock this time. Instead of turning at the hall that passes over the rear of the lobby near our usual elevators, we walk down the north wing. This is the wing we were advised to request so wed get a room overlooking the otter pond. Some rooms in this area also have a limited view of the monorail and castle. We find a window and pause to look outside. Below lies what must be The Otter Pond. I burst out laughing. Currently the otter pond is a green sludge-encrusted patch of stagnant water that no self-respecting otter would go near. Which is probably why I dont see any. If I strain my eyes I can make out a very small sign by the pond that reads: Gone to Miami Beach. The Otters.
Of course, I am very near-sighted, so I may be mistaken.
We pass an unattended Mousekeeping cart near a bank of elevators, and I briefly consider appropriating a few spare Mickey soaps to keep as souvenirs, but I have only my wallet on a string and they wont fit inside. Pilfered soaps bulging from my pockets at the Grand Floridian would not look very classy, so I give up the plan. We come to a window that overlooks Artist Pointe restaurant and look down on the empty room for a minute before heading for the elevators.
When we exit the building were not far from the boat dock. A line has formed as always. This time we need the blue flag boat for the Contemporary Resort, rather than the green flag boat. The MK boat arrives first and most everyone gets on. A few minutes later I hear a cheerful toot and here comes the blue flag boat.
Lowell gets on first and I clutch his arm to safely board.
Our view of the Contemporary from the water is a novelty since we usually arrive by monorail. Until I joined the DIS I was unaware of ancillary buildings at the Contemporary and the Grand Floridian. We pass alongside the low-rise buildings before coming to the main building.
I have always found the Contemporary rather unattractive, although I love the idea of the monorail running through the center of the resort. From the water, however, the Contemporary looks quite impressive and its like seeing it for the first time. In a few minutes we glide up to the dock.
Forgetting my disability, Lowell is out of the boat and fifty feet ahead of me before I start up the walkway in pursuit. I try to catch up, but my ankles are weaving, and the best I can manage is a hobbling, hopping, stumbling sort of walk that surely looks as silly as tap-jogging. In desperation I let out an unladylike, Hey, wait for me!
Lowell turns, looking sheepish, finally aware he is missing something. Normally Id be right behind him.
Heels, bah! I grumble.
Two blue-haired old ladies walking with canes breeze by and shoot me a disdainful look. They might just as well shout, Loser!
Dont run ahead, I warn Lowell when I catch up, I cant walk fast in these shoes.
The heels arent very high, but aside from the fact that Im not used to heels, the soles are smooth and slippery, which is a recipe for disaster. Ive only worn these shoes twice, which isnt enough to break them in or get used to walking in them. Maybe I should worry less about Lowells table manners and more about my grand entrance to the Garden View Lounge. I can see myself stumbling on the way to our table and landing face first in a plate of jam tarts.
We dont have much spare time, but I want to take a couple pictures in the Grand Canyon Concourse. I climb a couple flights of stairs without mishap and actually feel proud of myself. Maybe I can negotiate a truce with these shoes before they finalize their plans to kill me.
Although its very uncharacteristic of me to volunteer for a photo, I ask Lowell to take a picture of me in front of the mosaic mural. The mural is such a stunning backdrop that little attention will be placed on me, which is the way I prefer my photos.
(I posted this photo earlier in the report, so I wont include it again here.)
I take a couple pictures overlooking the concourse and one of the approaching train, unfortunately photographing a metal post in my haste to get the photo. Now were on our way to Tea.
As our train leaves the interior of the Contemporary, bright sun and blue skies greet us and we pick up speed. A passing train swishes by as we continue on toward the next stop which will be the Polynesian resort. The narrator cheerfully describes what we are seeing. In a moment, lush tropical greenery, palm trees and a riot of colorful flowers announce our trains arrival even before the announcer tells us that the Polynesian Resort stop is just ahead. I look eagerly out the window as the train slows. Tomorrow well be here for breakfast at our beloved Kona Café. I can almost taste the cinnamon-encrusted, banana-stuffed French toast called Tonga Toast right now. We always come here for our favorite treat whether we stay onsite or off, but this time I actually made an ADR. Usually we just show up and place our name on the list and wait for forty-five minutes.
The train starts off again and soon we approach the Victorian splendor of the Grand Floridian with its gingerbread trimmed white buildings and distinctive red roofs. The train stops at the platform and we bolt from our seats just as the doors snap open. This time Lowell waits for me. Were a few minutes early, so we have time to look around and take a picture or two. Ive heard that the Christmas Gingerbread House, built in the lobby each year, is nearly finished.
We enter on the second floor and walk up to the railing that overlooks the lobby. The atrium lobby is several stories tall and is ringed with ornate railings on each floor. Rich draperies hang at the windows. Elegant overstuffed furniture in comfortable groupings beckons travelers to sit and relax. Music ascends from the grand piano as a gentleman plays tunes that are appropriate to the late 1800s and early 1900s. The high ceiling with its stained glass dome draws our eyes upward. The lobby exudes gracious living and can be a bit overwhelming to some, particularly first time visitors. Although the décor is designed to be opulent it is not austere, and children run through the lobby, laughing, playing, and flopping happily onto the furniture just as they would at any resort. Female cast members who pass through the lobby are dressed in starched uniforms and white aprons and caps. They look like they stepped straight from the Victorian era. As we look at the scene below, a mantle of dignity falls over us, and I think we both stand a little straighter and taller.
At the opposite end of the lobby I see the nearly life-size gingerbread house. I tug
Lowells hand and we head for the stairs so we can go down and get a better look at it.
The house doesnt officially open until tomorrow, when gingerbread cookie shingles will be for sale. A uniformed cast member is working inside today making last minute preparations. After having a closer look at the house, we decide to check in with the hostess a few minutes before 2:20 and see if our table is ready.
Despite the fact that the room is only half full, the hostess tells us well need to wait about five minutes, so we hover outside and get a better look at the dining room which is very cheerful and sunny and elegantly furnished. Its definitely the sort of room where mothers tell children, Sit still and dont
touch anything. Linen napkins adorn the tables along with crystal glassware. The place settings are real china. I wouldnt doubt the silverware is breakable.
The hostess finally comes to the doorway and tells us our table is ready. I feel a moment of panic. This is it. I need to get to my seat without falling and smashing anyones china; after that I need to pray that Lowell behaves himself. Breakfast was a long time ago, so hopefully everything he ate earlier has already digested and isnt churning through his digestive system waiting to produce squeaking balloon noises at the table. I can just see him cracking his usual joke, Hey, Im deflating! while a table full of dignified elderly matrons look down their noses at him in disgust.
I take Lowells arm and mince along carefully on my slippery new shoes as we follow the hostess. She stops at a table, one away from the corner by a window, along the wall that abuts the lobby. The hostess holds the chair for me, and Lowell slips by and drops into a padded bench seat against the wall. Great. He is facing the entire dining room while I am facing only him and the wall. Not only does he have a better view of the dining room, the dining room has a better view of him. I cant trade places now that were seated. One does not play musical chairs in the Garden View Lounge. One sits where one is directed and does so with grace and dignity.
Our waitress arrives, hands us menus, tells us briefly about the selections, then whisks away to wait on another table. I glance around to see what other people have ordered. Everything looks delightful. I feel my resolve crumbling. I had planned to order a la carte and keep it simple since were having a big dinner tonight, but now everything looks so good that I dont want to settle for a couple scones and tea. Besides, our ADR for Hoop-De-Doo-Revue is at 7:00, which seems like a long time away. But what shall I order? If we follow our usual habit, Lowell and I will get something different. And share. But this is the Grand Floridian, and sharing is tacky. Were somewhat out of the way, nearly in the back corner, so maybe we could cheat. Just a little. Oh dear, I had planned to behave today and be on our best behavior. I should set a good example for Lowell. I dont want him to lapse into his usual elbows-on-the-table manners.
What are you going to have? he asks, pulling me out of my reverie.
I am very tempted with the Buckingham Palace: (Our traditional tea sandwiches, scones and jam tarts complemented by fresh strawberries and cream, or a selection of freshly baked pastries, along with your choice of tea. $19.50 per guest.) What about you?
I think Ill get the Prince Edwards Tea: (A delicious array of assorted pates, and English Blue Stilton, the "King" of English cheeses, served with marinated fresh berries, and Cumberland sauce. We then offer our delicious fresh-baked scones served with rich Devonshire cream. Your choice of our tea with a glass of our Fonseca Bin 27 Character Port. $21.00 per guest).
That sounds like a nice combination. Now we need to choose from the tea selections.
We are still studying the menu when our waitress returns to take our order.
I will have The Buckingham Palace, please. I tell her.
And your choice of tea?
Ill try the Mad Hatter tea. (A blend of passion fruit, pomegranate, and vanilla for a clean and sweet finish. Perfect with decadent desserts and companions.)
Thank you. The waitress turns her attention to Lowell. What would you like, Sir?
I hold my breath, wondering if I should kick him under the table to remind him not to pull one of his famous lines here, like, I want a rubber band sandwich, and make it snappy!
Fortunately I worry in vain and he says, Ill have the Prince Edwards Tea. And Id like the Jamaican Spice tea with that. (A zesty herbal infusion with red liquor and a bouquet of flavors, tartness of hibiscus and sweetness of cinnamon for a sweet, tangy, and spicy finish.)
Thank you. I will put your orders in right away.
I start to relax. This is fun. I love novelties, and this is a very pleasant way to spend a Sunday afternoon. But what will we do when our food comes? Will we simply critique our own selections, or will we throw manners to the wind and swap our food and tea with our usual wild abandon. I know which scenario Lowell would choose. A battle wages inside me.
Which will win? Miss Manners or Miss Behaving?
TO BE CONTINUED SUNDAY EVENING. . . .
Minnie_Moo: Great! Thats just what I had in mind. I think the ad mentioned Florence the cow making some great Parmesan cheese. Id like some of that on our Eye-talian food at Guidos. 
I know what you mean about wearing heels in WDW! It just doesn't seem right, does it? Getting around WDW in heels is a nightmare! 
Great installment! I love your pictures!
even after waiting for 10 minutes to sample my tea!!! I will be asking for a glass of ice next time I go. 
