Overdue and Overpacked II: The LaLas Take on the World: EPILOGUE ON PAGE 58

[LaLa]

Tanya90210: Thanks so much for your comments! I really appreciate it.

SoccerDog: Just repeat after me...."13 Days. 13 Days." You get a free bragging pass because you had a crummy week. I don't know what NM's excuse was.

Jami: That was the FIRST time we'd ever been picked to do the little red card thing. I thought it was kind of cool. Which shows you how much of a dork I really am. Mushed fruit ROCKS! And there it is again.

Grammy: I can totally see you doing the Bird. Especially when Jami posts, for some reason.

 

[LaLa]

Our last full day in the World is always somewhat bittersweet. And this year was no exception. It’s normally the first day that we allow ourselves to begin thinking of returning home. We’re still there, still fully immersed in the magic. But the real world, the one which houses our day to day responsibilities, slowly begins to creep back into our thoughts and conversations as we begin to discuss such things as the need to work in plenty (read: a whole heck of a lot) of time to pack (read: shove everything in and then sit on top of) the suitcases and what time we should leave the following morning in order to avoid getting caught in gridlock at the Perpetually Under Construction Pensacola I-10 bridge.

That’s the bitter part of it, the realization that we’ll be heading out the next day. Our time in the World is almost over. But the sweet part is the knowledge that it ain’t over yet, baby. Not till the fat lady sings. We still had one more day, and that last full day is always our last shot. Out last shot to do whatever the heck we feel like we wanna do.

And that’s exactly what we do.

It’s usually a no-brainer that we’ll head over to the Magic Kingdom. Because you just can’t get much better than experiencing the original and soaking up a little more magic on the last day. But since we’d just spent a huge amount of time there the night before, we chose to hang out at the second best park on property instead.

Epicot.

Our Epicot.

And we were planning on being there for the long haul.

Okay, calm down. I know what you’re thinking. And yes, we’d learned our lesson. We may be stupid but we ain’t that stupid. We may have fallen off the turnip truck, but it wasn’t yesterday. We were planning on hitting Epicot first thing in the morning, going back to the AKL to rest and do some packing in the afternoon, and then we would be heading back over for dinner and one final viewing of our beloved Illuminations.

Sigh.

But if we were going to make it to Epicot before the masses descended, we needed to get a move on. We drag the kids out of the bunk beds by their ankles and throw the freezing melted slush from the ice bucket in their little faces to make them wake up faster. Then we shovel some food down their throats and yell at them “Get your head in the game! It’s the last day! Don’t you know what that means?! Wake up! Wake up! For the love of all that is good in the world, wake up!” And then we yell something about Carpe Diem. And gettin’ up offa that thang. Out of habit, I pop my husband really hard on the tail with a twisted damp towel and tell him to move it or lose it as his back arches involuntarily and he falls to the floor from the shock of my surprise attack.

Okay, not really.

We didn’t really do any of that. Who do you think we are, the NMs?

Instead, we calmly wake our children and tell them that it’s the last day, that we’re going home tomorrow, and that we’ll be spending the day at Epicot.

And we (I) say it all in sing song.

Because we're (I'm) cool like that.

They turn over and sleepily rub their eyes. Their dreams of cotton candy and rainbows (in the girl’s case) and mountains of cheese (in the boy’s case) have been disrupted and they don’t like it. Not one bit. You can tell the moment they cross over from dream world into the real world because in that instant, they look confused. They lay perfectly still for just a second, letting our words register. Trying to figure out where the heck they are. And then it hits them. They both immediately scramble out of bed, ready to get the show on the road. The boy, still half asleep, rubs his eyes as he stumbles down the ladder and manages to slur “What do you think, we’ve got all day? Let’s move it, people!”

And with that, the people move it.

We’re dressed, fed, downstairs, through the gift shop (sigh), and out the door in record time. We choose to take the bus on our last day instead of driving our comfy ride to the park. And yes, we did it for the girl. Because you know that child and a Disney bus. They go together like cheese and crackers. Sweet tea and lemon. Frick and a calculator. Hall and Oates. Before the breakup and without the huge 80s hair and cheesy mustache.

The bus is almost empty as we slide into the cold hard purple seats and settle in for our last bus ride of the trip. The girl scampers into my lap and I hold her tight as we move toward our happy place. I glance around the bus and wonder if the happy people laughing all the way in the back are just starting their vacation or wrapping it up like us. It was at that moment that I realized I was already feeling the Disneyfreude. One day early. I wonder where the week has gone and find it hard to believe our time in the World is almost over.

Say it isn’t so.

I can’t go for that. No can do.

I look over at my husband and son. Really look at them. The sunlight is pouring in through the windows. It’s a beautiful day. I’m drinking the moment in when I suddenly realize the boy looks like he’s been moonlighting in a rock band. The Jack Sparrow look that I had desperately tried to scrub off his face with my makeup remover the night before was back for an encore performance. But at this point instead of looking like Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean, he looks more like Marky Mark in Rock Star. The morning after the battle of the bands.

A dab of the eyeliner was still hanging around and slightly smeared, is what I’m saying. We stop short of referring to him as Rock Star though. Shudder. And instead, we just call him by his name. For a change. It’s the last day. Give us a break. We’re too tired to be creative.

I tell him to scoot over and give it my last best effort. I attempt to wipe off the remains of his wild night rockin’ out with Slash and the boys from Guns N Roses with some good old fashioned Mama Spit. Because, after all, it IS the best cleaner/hair gel known to mankind.

Kidding.

I did not rub spit on my son’s eyes. Please. I'm a germaphobe, remember? But I have seen it done. More than a few times. And mostly in Alabama.

We make it to Epicot, hop off the bus, and get in line at the gates. Although the park had just opened, the line was already pretty long. In other words: it was crazy long. Not Epicot No Extra Magic For You Hour trying to make your way back to POR long. But still. The line was much longer than we’d experienced so far on any other day.

While DH waited in the bag check line with the rest of humanity and the kids and I stood off to the side desperately trying to block out the blinding sunlight in an effort to keep our retinas from permanently searing to the insides of our eyelids, I noticed a gentleman watching us. He was watching us interact and listening to our conversation. Rather intently, I might add. And then from out of the blue, I hear…

“You must be from the South.”

What is the DEAL?!

Did my stylish combination of overalls, pig tails and bare feet give it away?

I have to be honest here. Both my husband and I really enjoy striking up conversations with people that we come across in Disney, finding out where they’re from, what their story is, and what brought them there. But in that moment, I wasn’t all that interested in making small talk. Sometimes you are and sometimes you aren't. This was one of those rare "aren't" times. The girl was hopping up and down in one place, begging to be held. Both kids were whining about having to wait, the sun was blinding us, the heat was bearing down. I had lost sight of my husband in the crowd and I wasn’t sure if he knew where we were either, for that matter. For all of those reasons, holding a conversation with this guy was absolutely the last thing on my mind.

But I didn’t want to be rude. Among other things, Southern girls are raised with the belief that we shouldn’t be rude unless the situation calls for being rude. And even then, we dole out rude with just a touch of sugar thrown in. If we’re good, that is. And know how to work it. There are exceptions, however, as anyone who’s spent any amount of time pushing a buggy (not a cart) on a crowded Wal-Mart aisle two days before Christmas when it’s every man, woman and child for himself can tell you.

So when the guy followed his intro five seconds later by hitting me with yet another “Are you from the South?”, I answered him.

By saying “No. We’re from New Yawk Cit-eh.”

Okay, so I didn’t. But I wanted to.

Turns out he and his family were from the South as well. From our neck of the woods, as a matter of fact. Not too far from where we live. Imagine that. And he was really nice. We talked for a few minutes and then his wife joined us. He must’ve made her go through bag check. Maybe he packed some chocolate cake, a dozen Krispy Kremes and a half dozen enemas in their backpack and he wanted to have a little fun at her expense. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Not that I’ve ever thought about doing that. DH joined us a minute later and we all stood there talking. In front of our Epicot. We talked about Disneyworld. We talked about home. And we talked about the storm. Everyone here just calls it the storm now because there is no question as to which one we’re referring to. Were there ever any others? In fact, many conversations among total strangers from our area still begin with either the phrase “Before the storm” or “After the storm”. It has divided time. And the conversation that we held with those Maybe Not Such Total Strangers After All that day in front of the happiest place this side of Heaven was no different.

Small world indeed.

After we bid our fellow Rednecks farewell, we made our way through the gates, past the Granite Garden (blowing lips of love to our mugs along the way), and straight to the stroller rental. DH secured our Redneck Ride and we were off like a shot. We passed the rookies clamoring for Guide Maps and shot them the L sign as we took off for The Land.

I honestly cannot remember the last time we looked at a Guide Map for Epicot while we were actually in the park. My husband is a walking, talking Guide Map for that place. He knows exactly where everything is. Yes, even the locations of the Family Bathrooms. It’s this internal thing he’s got going on. You could drop the man in the middle of a desert (or a dessert even) and he would be able to find his way back home by looking at the direction the sun was shining or some crap like that. Me, I’d be out of luck. I’d be walking in circles and crying the whole way. I have no sense of direction. But the man can navigate. And he really shows off when we’re in Disney. Especially Epicot. He knows that place like he knows the back of his hand. And the back of my hand. Which he sees quite often when he gets out of line.

OR DOES HE?!!!!!

I think I took this picture later on in the day but we'll just throw it in now and say I took it that morning. Because I'm not sure where else to put it and it's much too cool of a picture to waste.

Picture taken and Unwritten Rule Number Whatever faithfully adhered to, we decide to make our first stop of the day a lil sumpm sumpm called Flyin'.

Or is it Soarin'?

I forget.

By the time we got to the Land, parked the stroller and went down the escalator, the line was already pretty long. But there was no way we were leaving Lake Buena Vista without riding that baby at least once more. Because as much as we all love the thrill (yes, I said the thrill) of Thunder Mountain at night, and as much as we love seeing those doors fly open at the last minute as we pick up speed and bank a curve on Test Track, Soarin’ is our family’s absolute favorite ride at Disneyworld. Hands down. No question about it.

So we hop in line and wait.

While we wait, we read the questions on the monitors set up along the way and see who can answer them the fastest. As DH is talking smack about the fact that he’s answering all the questions right as we move through the queue (yes, the man will talk smack about darn near anything), a woman behind us offers to take a picture of the four of us together. Completely out of the blue. I guess they were sensing the love vibes I was putting out there to DH as he rubbed in the fact that he was answering more questions right than any of us put together. And reminded us that we were all standing way too close, that we should probably back away from him in order to avoid any bumpage or else we were about to get some serious knowledge spilled on us. He also took the opportunity to remind us that he couldn’t be held responsible for any knowledge being spilled. It was completely out of his hands.

I’ve never been more in love with the man than I was in that moment.

Or have I?

We all grab each other, move in close and smile for the camera. It’s very rare that we have snapshots taken of all four of us together in Disneyworld. Or anywhere else, for that matter. We have lots of pictures of me and the kids and lots of pictures of my husband and the kids. And don’t even get me started on the amount of pictures we have of just the kids by themselves. But not so many of the four of us. So it’s nice to have someone offer to take a shot of our family out of the blue. The picture turned out pretty good and I noticed looking back at it the other day that we all weren’t just smiling. We were repressing full out, goofy, show every tooth in your head laughter. Which is kind of hard to do when someone’s got a camera stuck in your face. Trust me. I know. But it was a nice moment. We thanked the mom and promptly reciprocated the gesture. She seemed thrilled to have a shot of her entire family together as well. Probably for a change. Just like us.

Spread the love. You gotta spread the love.

We finally make it onto Soarin’. We knew the secret and we promptly asked for front row, center section.

Yeah, baby!

Nothing else will do. We were moved into position without hesitation and watched Puddy do his preflight thang. One last time.

Sigh.

We bid farewell to Chief Flight Attendant Patrick and when the doors to our flight opened, we took a seat and stored (almost) all carry on items in the underseat compartment. This included purses, cameras (yeah right!), hats and of course, those little beauties. Then we fastened our seatbelts, inserting them into the buckle on our right. We put the belt through the loop in the center strap before buckling up our smaller aviators. And then we heard…

Soarin’ to Tower. We are ready for takeoff.

And the music, that music that I love so much began. The glider floated into position and we were off. Once again. Flying through the clouds, over the beautiful scenery, smelling the scent of orange groves and pine trees. Picking our feet up as we passed over the snowy mountaintop and hovered above the surf.

Man, I love that ride!

As the last bit of fireworks explode in the sky above Sleeping Beauty’s castle and we come back down to earth, the riders cheer. I grab the girl by the hand and we squeal. I don’t know why. But neither of us fought the urge. Then she half says, half yells “That was awesome! Awesome, I tell ya. Awesome!”

Yep. She’s a fan. Just like her Mama.

We contemplated taking another ride on Soarin, but the standby line was way too long and we didn’t want to get Fastpasses for that when we might need to grab some for Test Track a little bit later. So we bid farewell to the best ride in the park and made out of The Land and over to The Living Seas.

We had already done a pretty thorough touring of the place earlier in the trip so we make a semi quick walk through, stopping to look at a few things that pique our interest, and then we head over to Turtle Talk with Crush.

This was our maiden voyage, so to speak. We had never done Turtle Talk before and we were psyched about experiencing a new attraction. Before we left, I read alot about it. Did you expect anything less? I passed the info along to the kids, who immediately declared that we had to see it as soon as we arrived at Disney. Like, on the very first day. So we saved it for the very last day instead. There was no strategy involved, no particular reason why we saved it for last. We just forgot about it when we were there earlier in the week. Plain and simple. Gimme a break. We were tired.

But as we rounded the corner and realized that the tired and huddled masses were all in a winding and seemingly never ending line in front of us, DH tried convincing us to forget all about it. To wipe the talking turtle from our memory and pretend we never saw the place. But the kids would have none of it. They were adamant. Not Adam Ant. Cause that would be weird.

Go ahead and consider this your stinkin’ footnote.

So we got in what was definitely the loudest and possibly the most poorly behaved line ever in the history of Disneyworld. We witnessed three major meltdowns (two children and one mom) before we were led into the theatre. Because we were near the back of the line, there were no seats available once we made our way into the place. But it actually worked out fine because DH and I were able to stand against the wall near the kids up front. In order to keep an eye on them during the show. Because that’s definitely how we roll it. Especially in Disneyworld.

But as we soon found out, not all parents roll it like that.

As the show started and Crush floated onto the scene shouting stuff like RIGHTEOUS!, TOTALLY SWEET!, DUDE! and SHA!, the kids got pretty excited. But as excited as they were, they all managed to control themselves and to stay seated.

All except for that one kid.

You just know there’s always gonna be that one kid.

While Crush swam from side to side, checkin’ out the scene, making small talk and crackin’ jokes, one child could not contain his excitement. He hopped up in front of all the other kids. Walked right up to Crush. Began to yell at him. And beat on the screen. He was literally beating on the screen. In an effort to get Crush’s attention, no doubt. Crush played it off and immediately swam the opposite direction and changed the subject, obviously trying to ignore the child. Because you know Crush sees all. The kid then did a little move we like to call the Sugared Up Hop-Skip To My Lou Throw Your Hands in The Air and Scream.

He half hopped, half skipped across the length of the screen with his hands thrown up in the air and his head laid back, screaming the whole way. In staccato.

We were numbfounded.

Where were this kid’s parents? Was he there alone? Hanging out in Epicot, taking in the Food and Wine Festival by himself? The poor CM tried to get his attention and motioned for him to sit down several times but he wasn’t having any of that. Each time Crush would call on a child from the audience to ask a question, the kid would scramble down on the floor by the CM, put his mouth as close to the microphone as possible and breathe really loud. Into the microphone. While the other kid talked into the other side of it.

And the audience would laugh.

Finally Crush announced that the kid did indeed have a parental unit present and that Mom was coming in for the snag. He really did say that last part. She appeared from out of nowhere, grabbed him, and took off to her seat. The crowd cheered.

Okay, so they didn’t.

Just DH and I did.

Or did we?

Crush continued the show, holding up a bikini top and asking the kids if they knew what it was. They all answered “BRA!” in unison. Just like they were supposed to. The little girls laughed and the little boys turned up their noses as if they’d just caught wind of a ginger laden number four.

And once again, I’d like to bottle some of that innocence and save it for another day.

After about ten minutes, You Know Who scrambled away from Mom and was back in action. Back on the scene. Back in the front row. Ready to par-tay. He continued his hop skip moves until the end of the show. We had to admit, it was all pretty entertaining. We really liked the whole Turtle Talk thing. The kids thought he was very cool and they called each other dude for the rest of the day.

DH and I even got in on it, which drove our son nuts.

You see, back here at home, my son and I have this thing with the word “Dude”. Much the same as the “Girl Power” thing, I can’t tell you exactly when or how it started. But I do know it’s been going on long before Crush ever came on the scene. If we’re in a particularly playful mood, it happens. Completely out of the blue. And usually as we’re riding down the road. He’ll ask a serious question. I’ll give a serious answer. And then add “Dude” on the end of it. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I’m an idiot. But it cracks him up. He laughs really hard and tells me to stop. Calling me Dude in return. Then I, of course, apologize profusely and tell him I won’t do it anymore if it bothers him that bad. Dude. He laughs so hard he gets the burps and slaps his hand over his forehead, rolling his eyes and daring me to do it again.

This goes on until the boy is laughing so hard he’s on the verge of puking in the car. And then I stop. Cause having a child puke in the car is not cool. In fact, the only thing worse than having a child puke in the car is having a child blow chunks in front of the huge row of windows at Ruby Tuesday’s. After said child has had peaches for lunch. Evidently. All while hungry peach loving salad bar patrons stare out the window in dismay and start a vomit chain inside the restaurant.

Not that that’s ever happened to us.

Okay, yes it has. It’s happened to us. Was there ever any doubt?

Let me just stop right here and say that if you had a window seat at Ruby Tuesday’s last weekend and saw a van pull up, let a little girl out to puke in the grass, then throw her back in and take off with the tires squealing, I apologize for that.

Feel free to send your bill to ZZUB. The peaches are on him. Because I’m sure he’s to blame. Somehow.

Moving on. Quickly.

Once Crush was over, we made our way out into the blinding sunlight once again and headed over to the World Showcase. Dude.

Okay, I’ll stop. Dude.

We grabbed some grub at Taco Bell (I seriously would’ve rather had a Nacho BellGrande instead, dude) and then we took off around the World Showcase for one last stroll. In the daytime. We were still planning on going back to Epicot that night for dinner and one last viewing of Illuminations so we weren’t too sad at that point. In fact, we found ourselves laughing quite a bit that day. At insanely silly stuff. We looked out over the World Showcase Lagoon and we talked and walked. And balked. At some of the fashion choices that we witnessed. Since when did cowboy hats come back in style? Did I not get the memo?

Before we left, we ducked into MouseGear and made entirely too many purchases. I always try to pick up a few Mickey themed items for the kitchen each year and it was at this point that I bought the Mickey shaped cookie cutter (which we’ve used maybe twice) and the cute as all get out set of Mickey tumblers. The ones that match Frick's cereal bowls. The ones that are supposed to be hand wash only. The ones that I stuck in the dishwasher over and over until I read Frick’s trip report and realized they were hand wash only. DUH! Here’s a little tip. Always turn the dish over and read any warnings on the bottom of the dish before you stick it in the dishwasher. That’s important. Don’t just assume that because it’s a dish, it’s good to go. Because when it says Not Dishwasher Safe, they ain’t kiddin’ around. After being stuck in the dishwasher one too many times, those babies are sportin’ more cracks than a plumber’s convention. That was for you, Frick.

Once our shopping was done and I picked my husband up off the floor at the register, we decided to bid Epicot farewell and make our way back to the resort in order to get all of our gear packed before our ADR that night.

We shimmied (okay so we didn't actually shimmy because we were pretty tired at that point) over to the bus stop and waited about ten minutes before we were able to spot the now familiar ANIMAL KINGDOM LODGE sign in the front window of our bus. We ambled on, collapsed into four cold hard purple seats across from each other, and made our way back to the AKL. Once we arrived, we cut through the gift shop once again, walked up three steps, hung a left, took one flight of semi hidden stairs, hung another left, then a quick right and walked the rest of the way to our room, looking down on the people below us as they milled about the lobby.

I’m not sure why but at that point I was convinced that every single one of them had just arrived and that none of them were headed home the next day. Like us.

Show offs!

Up Next: “Sure doesn’t look like Steak and Ale to me.”

 

[INdisneyfamily]

Another great installment, LaLa. I love how you remember to enjoy the moment. I am going to try really hard to do that this trip! We have always done commando style but life is too short not to enjoy the "moments".

 

[SoccerDogWithEars]

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!! This was just what I needed. I'm feeling much better emotionally, not so much physically since I'm still sick. Of course, breaking down into hysterics at 11:30 last night and then sleeping til one this afternoon could have helped. But not as much as this did. I actually curled up in bed after pretending to go to work this morning (I think I was on the clock for maybe 30 minutes), and told myself that I was not at home, I was at AKL, just back from spending the morning at the Magic Kingdom, and there was a giraffe outside my window. In other words, I went to my happy place. Which, ironically enough, we aren't staying at this trip. We're staying at THE Lodge. See ya there ZZUB.

Anyway, great installment like always. I don't want it to end. But I figure I've got another month or so til that happens...

 

[Tanya90210]

Love it!! Too bad you had a misbehaver in Turtle Talk with you... that is one great show ... especially when there aren't any extra distractions.

Next to last day is never as fun as the rest ... because you know... darn that disneyfreude...

 

[CampbellScot]

Oh Lala...you are like internet Prozac! It's been a day let me tell you...the Pool is opening today...the super clean, really fun, just for our gated community pool...the one the step daughter has been chompin at the bit to dive into. Counting down the days...literally...and of course the child wakes up with a 103.5 fever. I go into the bedroom and I'm greeted with "Miss Cammie I feel GREAT. I'm SO excited for the pool today..." she says this as she staggers forward. I FEEL the heat waves coming off of her before I even reach her. As soon as I touch her face, the tears start streaming. It was very sad. She knew the cat was WAY outta the bag! Poor kiddo...She hiccup cried all the way to the doctor that she "wanted to go to the p-p-p-ooooool t-t-t-day." Oh but she's not just sick the regular way. Oh no. She's got a rash too...The child has SCARLET FEVER. Yes the dreaded scarlet fever that could stop a wagon train in its tracks...the fever that took sight from poor Mary Ingalls...THIS was some serious sick! The doctor actually said "Ew...where'd she get that?!" From her friend Cassie actually...her mom let her go to school with strep. Thanks Cassie's mom.

It's been a feverish, whiney day. Not fun.

SO to the point of you being internet Prozac. I laughed for the first time today reading your report. When I saw there was a new chapter up I actually said "Oh THANK THE LORD!!!"

I now feel replenished and ready to care once more for the sickly step child!

I laughed and laughed at the "Well Mannered Southern Girl" bit...and oh my word the bad child at Turtle Talk...I died. DED! I tell you what!!

Thanks for the laughs dahlin...much appreciated I'm sure!

can't wait for more!!!

and yee-haw for me for being first on page 52!!!!

 

[princessjv]

One of your best...

To bad the parental units of that little boy weren't more with it. Although amusing...distracting too, I'm sure!

I almost bought those very same tumblers. That is, until I turned them over to see if they were dishwasher safe. I then quickly replaced them onto the shelf in which they came...

The trip is coming to an end.

For that I am sad.

Until next time.

 

[ukwildcat]

But I didn’t want to be rude. Among other things, Southern girls are raised with the belief that we shouldn’t be rude unless the situation calls for being rude. And even then, we dole out rude with just a touch of sugar thrown in. If we’re good, that is. And know how to work it. There are exceptions, however, as anyone who’s spent any amount of time pushing a buggy (not a cart) on a crowded Wal-Mart aisle two days before Christmas when it’s every man, woman and child for himself can tell you.

If this isn't the biggest load of carp (and when I say carp, I don't mean carp, if you know what I mean) since Zzub's #4 adventure, then I don't know what is. DW claims to be a southern belle, or debutante, or whatever else you call yourselves. I've witnessed on more than one occasion this sugar-laced rudeness. Well, in any event, southern belle has a nice ring to it. I'm just not fooled. That's all I'm saying.

And also, what's the deal with buggy? Who says that. Apparently you and DW. She also calls a remote control a "clicker." Do you use that one too. That drives me nuts.

Great as always. Happy Memorial Day Folks.

 

[lexmelinda]

I think I'm having DisneyTripReportFreude. Because all I could think was that your wonderful report will soon be over as you visit Soarin for the last time and take a last stroll around the World Showcase in the Redneck Ride. Sigh.

And I don't know what UK is talking about. At least our rudeness IS sugar-laced when need be. You know we have this innate need to make everyone feel comfortable, welcome, included. That's what Southern women do because that's what our mamas taught us.

We also push buggies at Wal*Mart and commandeer the clicker.

Can't wait to hear about LeCellier!

 

[ukwildcat]

And also, what's the deal with buggy? Who says that.

And apparently Melinda. I'm outnumbered. I give up.

 

[DJR]

We drag the kids out of the bunk beds by their ankles and throw the freezing melted slush from the ice bucket in their little faces to make them wake up faster. Then we shovel some food down their throats and yell at them “Get your head in the game!
It’s the last day! Don’t you know what that means?! Wake up! Wake up! For the love of all that is good in the world, wake up!”

Sounds a little like our house when we're trying to get our DD up for school.

This goes on until the boy is laughing so hard he’s on the verge of puking in the car. And then I stop. Cause having a child puke in the car is not cool. In fact, the only thing worse than having a child puke in the car is having a child blow chunks in front of the huge row of windows at Ruby Tuesday’s. After said child has had peaches for lunch. Evidently. All while hungry peach loving salad bar patrons stare out the window in dismay and start a vomit chain inside the restaurant.

Not that that’s ever happened to us.

Okay, yes it has. It’s happened to us. Was there ever any doubt?

No.

After being stuck in the dishwasher one too many times, those babies are sportin’ more cracks than a plumber’s convention.

Now there's a mental image I could have done without.

 

[Chapter 11]

But the sweet part is the knowledge that it ain’t over yet, baby. Not till the fat lady sings.

I'm shocked -- you missed an obvious joke at my expense. You're slipping.

Because we're (I'm) cool like that.

Haven't we already put this obvious falsehood to rest?

The bus is almost empty as we slide into the cold hard purple seats and settle in for our last bus ride of the trip.

Okay, I'm no math whiz like Frickles, but wouldn't you have to ride the bus back to the AKL? So technically, this wouldn't be your last bus ride, right?

I did not rub spit on my son’s eyes. Please. I'm a germaphobe, remember? But I have seen it done. More than a few times. And mostly in Alabama.

I'm afraid to ask what bodily fluid they use in Mississippi.

Let me just stop right here and say that if you had a window seat at Ruby Tuesday’s last weekend and saw a van pull up, let a little girl out to puke in the grass, then throw her back in and take off with the tires squealing, I apologize for that.

Dude.

We shimmied (okay so we didn't actually shimmy because we were pretty tired at that point) over to the bus stop and waited about ten minutes before we were able to spot the now familiar ANIMAL KINGDOM LODGE sign in the front window of our bus.

Aha. I was right (see comment above).

Very nice, La. Now I have a hankering for some Ruby Tuesday. Thanks.

 

[LaLa]

I was at AKL, just back from spending the morning at the Magic Kingdom, and there was a giraffe outside my window.

SoccerDog. That wasn't a giraffe. It was Chappie on the stilts.

I love how you remember to enjoy the moment. I am going to try really hard to do that this trip! We have always done commando style but life is too short not to enjoy the "moments".

We try to do a little of both each trip. There are some times that commando is called for. Especially when the crowds are out and about. But it's nice to temper that with some slower, more enjoyable days whenever you get the chance. To savor the time and tuck it away for those days when life back in the real world is hectic. Have a great time. And thanks for posting.

Next to last day is never as fun as the rest ... because you know... darn that disneyfreude...

You know of what you speak.

The child has SCARLET FEVER. Yes the dreaded scarlet fever that could stop a wagon train in its tracks...the fever that took sight from poor Mary Ingalls

Been there, done that. It's no party, that's for sure. Hope she's feeling better now. And that she's been able to make it to the pool. Thanks for your comments.

I almost bought those very same tumblers. That is, until I turned them over to see if they were dishwasher safe. I then quickly replaced them onto the shelf in which they came...

You're a smart girl. I should've done the same but I was too busy being blinded by their beauty. Or at least their cuteness. Which has since faded into oblivion. Sigh.

If this isn't the biggest load of carp (and when I say carp, I don't mean carp, if you know what I mean) since Zzub's #4 adventure, then I don't know what is. DW claims to be a southern belle, or debutante, or whatever else you call yourselves. I've witnessed on more than one occasion this sugar-laced rudeness. Well, in any event, southern belle has a nice ring to it. I'm just not fooled. That's all I'm saying.

This just about killed me DED. I said there ARE exceptions to the rule. And yes, I'm quite sure you have witnessed some sugar laced rudeness. What with all the streaking that you do. It's inevitable.

And also, what's the deal with buggy? Who says that. Apparently you and DW. She also calls a remote control a "clicker." Do you use that one too. That drives me nuts.

Okay. Let's do this one last time. It's a buggy. Not a cart. Or a basket. I don't call it a clicker, but I do call the turn signal on my car a blinker. The (apparent) shoe of choice for the parks is "tennis shoes". Pronounced "tenny shoes". We eat "ketchup" not catsup on our hamburgers and my mama's sister is my "Aunt". Pronounced "ant". Unless you're AshClan.

And I don't know what UK is talking about. At least our rudeness IS sugar-laced when need be. You know we have this innate need to make everyone feel comfortable, welcome, included. That's what Southern women do because that's what our mamas taught us.

We also push buggies at Wal*Mart and commandeer the clicker.

Thanks for having my back, chick. And yes, it IS handed down from mother to daughter. Not only the sugar laced rudeness thing, but also everyday manners in general. If I heard "put your legs down and sit like a lady" once, I heard it a thousand times. Although I'm bettin' Mel probably heard that quite a bit growing up too. Something tells me. So maybe it's not just a regional thing.

Can't wait to hear about LeCellier!

What gave it away? The whole Steak and Ale thing?

Now there's a mental image I could have done without.

Me too. I don't know about you, but I'm blaming Frickles.

Okay, I'm no math whiz like Frickles, but wouldn't you have to ride the bus back to the AKL? So technically, this wouldn't be your last bus ride, right?

DED. You're like a freakin' bulldog with the technicalities, aren't you? You should think about going back to school and becoming a paralegal. Okay, you got me. I have no comeback for that one. Maybe I am slipping after all.

I'm afraid to ask what bodily fluid they use in Mississippi.

You should be afraid. It's the same one they use in Georgia.



I just want to tell all of yall thanks so much for your comments. You have no idea how much I appreciate them. Yall rock. Seriously.

 

[samc]

I did not rub spit on my son’s eyes. Please. I'm a germaphobe, remember? But I have seen it done. More than a few times. And mostly in Alabama.

there's no germs in southern saliva.....they're neutalized by all the sugar in the tea.......apparently it's even ok to pass off a half-licked dole whip!

“You must be from the South.” Did my stylish combination of overalls, pig tails and bare feet give it away?

of course not..........it was the dried spit on the boy's face

Man, I love that ride!

so BORG

Go ahead and consider this your stinkin’ footnote

.

It’s happened to us. Was there ever any doubt?

none at all

 

[SoccerDogWithEars]

Hey La, have you heard about the self-serve Dole Whip station at the Poly?? Figured you'd be one of the first in line.....

 

[1000thhappyhaunt]

Ok.

If you're gonna bring that crap:

She's got a double-stroller with a fanny pack,
She's all nice Southern Dude and I like it like that.
It's all right and you don't have to change your shoes,
It's Epicot; sportin' stupid flippies RULES.
She knows what she wants.
She's an all American girl.
It's not the Saliva Whip now... it's a Strawberry Swirl!

Or a freakin' funnel cake.


Who really cares tho.

I couldn't make it rhyme.

For the life of Me(l).


And it's LITERALLY killin' me to be doctoring H&O lyrics.


NOBoston.


Secondly, I'm not surprised your husband has a tail.

B/c I've been reading these tripes of yours for a long time.

It figures.


I think.


Thirdly: DED about the description of the kid with CRUSH!!! DED. So ded I'm alive. (good line!)

Anywho... YOU ROCK!!!


Kinda like Hall and Oatz.


Unfortunately.


Also: Whattheheck is wrong with COWBOY HATS?????!!!! You may not know this but I wear them all the time!!!!!

So slammed, Dude.

(Oh. Ignore the tacky bra strap. NOW THERE's some material for balking. TFI.)

I just hope you redeemed yourself and spent a buttload of money getting the kids a little something something in Mousegears!

Cheers, Melhappyhaunt.



P.S. Please read this whole post in singsong. You dingaling.

 

[Disfan3]

is that Mel taking in the view of the Maelstrom waterfall???

Just curious.


I can't say that I have a pic of me in a cowboy hat....well not one I can share HERE anyway. These boots are made for....

LALA. You had me at HELLO. DED. DED I SAY. I cannot imagine that THIS is almost the END. It just ain't right. Even Freddy came back and battled Jason in the end.


So please...make it last. And SINCE WHEN did Frick get so smart????

 

[1000thhappyhaunt]

is that Mel taking in the view of the Maelstrom waterfall???

Just curious.


I can't say that I have a pic of me in a cowboy hat....well not one I can share HERE anyway. These boots are made for....

LALA. You had me at HELLO. DED. DED I SAY. I cannot imagine that THIS is almost the END. It just ain't right. Even Freddy came back and battled Jason in the end.


So please...make it last. And SINCE WHEN did Frick get so smart????

Oh. Come ON.

Share away.


I just posted a picture of my Viking bra straps.

After all.


Yes. That's Me(l).


And that is Maelstrom.


My Fastpass H0ME... away from the BWVs.


Cheers, Melly.

 

[ZZUB]

We may have fallen off the turnip truck, but it wasn’t yesterday.

Yeah, it was the day before. Hardly worth bragging about.

The Jack Sparrow look that I had desperately tried to scrub off his face with my makeup remover the night before was back for an encore performance.

This is one of many reasons why you shouldn't put make-up on your boy. I still have vaselline in my hair from 1977 when I dressed up as The Fonz for a costume party.

You could drop the man in the middle of a desert (or a dessert even) and he would be able to find his way back home . . . the man can navigate. And he really shows off when we’re in Disney.

Is this the same guy who drove you out of Disney? Yeah, he's got great direction skills.

Spread the love. You gotta spread the love.

I understand that's how Lindsay Lohan got famous.

Maybe because I’m an idiot.

That's where I'm placing my money.

I have to confess this chapter made me sad. I really enjoy reading your writing (perhaps b/c you so frequently pirate mine?) and knowing you're on your last full day means its all gonna be over soon. So sad. I hope you and your poorly dressed and mostly illiterate family are planning another trip back to Disney World soon. Because if you don't then I'll be forced to read that poorly written and hard to read piece of garbage Mel keeps posting. And if it comes to that, then I'll stop reading trip reports altogether and start frequenting the "what's for dinner" thread on the community board.

FYI: the answer aint Ruby Tuesday's.

 

[kpk89]

I don't do mushed fruit. It sits like bulbous pulp in my belly and makes me feel swolled up like a tick. There's no refreshment in that. So I'll never be the one blocking the line for all you fans.

Excellent composition as usual. Don't rush things. I hate knowing the end of a good story is on the horizon.

Jami, it is not like you to bring the zzubage to somebody's trip report. Are you ok?


LaLa, take your time girl. You know we hate for it to end.