Before you plunge headlong into the abyss that is a vacation with the LaLas, I would be remiss in my duties as Good Citizen of the Month (January 1982) if I didnt take some time to prepare you for what lies ahead. And let you know just who it is youre dealing with. Should you choose to stick around and actually read this thing instead of doing something worthwhile with your time.
Like memorizing the dance moves to Thriller. Playing Tetris. Watching the volleyball scene from Top Gun and pondering how bad Goose mustve felt when they said Everybody take your shirts off and flex your muscles. Everybody except for Edwards over there, for obvious reasons. Not that Ive ever done that. Giving the old ladies at the assisted living center a run for their money on Bingo night. Learning the two step from someone named Bubba down at the Tri-County Multi Purpose Center. Repositioning the stickers on your Rubiks Cube. Reciting the correct spelling of
sphygmomanometer again and wondering how different things mightve been had you not allowed yourself to get caught up in the glitz and the glamour of the bee. Or actually reading the first three editions of the Battle For My Wallet Series.
This time.
Instead of just looking at the pictures.
Wait for it.
And ...there it is.
Because I dont think you can know what to expect on this journey unless you first know who it is youre dealing with, lets start with a few introductions.
DH
Oddly enough, this is his actual name. That is, if the gift tags on the presents underneath our Christmas tree last December could be believed. But then again, if we operate according to that rule, it means my name actually IS LaLa. Or Schmoopy. Or my personal favorite: You Just Think You Know. That particular gift was given to me by someone who went by the name of But You Have No Idea. If you havent picked up on it yet, my husband loves to joke around with his family. In fact, some of the best times we had while we were dating were spent just laughing at each others dumb jokes. And although a few things may have changed after twelve years of marriage, that hasnt. And I pray it never does. My husband is my rock. Hes strong, steady and true. Hes an awesome father. Not to mention pretty dadgum handsome. Plus he has a six pack. A six pack of Coke, that is. In his fridge at work. Hes a mans man. He loves football and trying to beat last years time on road trips. And power tools. Hes a straight shooter and never hesitates to say whats on his mind. Especially where the Hokey Pokey is concerned. Hes a good, honorable, Godly man and I pray that our son grows up to be like him one day.
Yours truly
I like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain. Okay, not really. I dont drink and in my opinion, the only thing worse than getting caught in the rain is getting caught with the bathroom door unlocked in a bustling office. Not that Id know anything about that. A typical Southern girl, I can whip up a perfect roux with one hand and French braid our daughters hair with the other. All while planning the next Disney trip. With my toes. And snapping our son back in line. With my eyes. Okay, I cant think of any situation where I would ever need or want to do all that at the same time, but I probably could if I had to. I love to laugh, reflect, watch funny movies with my husband, snuggle with my kids and I love reliving the memories that we make as a family by writing trip reports. If youve suffered through any of the previous Overdue and Overpacked reports, you probably already know that I have a penchant for overpacking. Oversanitizing. And Overdoing. It. At times. And yes, I got it from my Mama. You should also know that I love my family more than life itself and I thank God for them every day.
DS
Frequently referred to as The Boy. Both here and in real life. Kidding. Or am I? Our firstborn is both cautious and full of life. All at the same time. He is all boy and he is his father made over. He busted onto the scene ten years ago with plenty of sound and fury and he hasnt stopped since. Besides my husband, he is the most observant person Ive ever known. The child can spot a dead bug in a restaurant from a mile away and will let everyone within a five mile radius know all about it. The boys passion in life is playing football and he can throw a perfect spiral. Just ask him. Hell tell you. Right after he tells you how lame and yesterday the Power Rangers are. Sigh. He has a hilarious sense of humor and he unabashedly speaks the truth. Loudly. And I hope that never changes. He has a sweet, sweet soul and one hug from him can make your troubles disappear faster than free toiletries when the LaLas check into a hotel room. He has a soft spot for, and is fiercely protective of, his little sister. Who also happens to be his greatest rival. And his best friend. All rolled into one.
DD
Shes The Girl. Our sweet baby girl. Although at seven years old, shes not such a baby anymore. That sad yet undeniable truth is becoming more and more evident as we watch her turn her gaze from Cinderella to Hannah Montana. From Playhouse Disney to High School Musical. She is definitely all girl. And all heart. She is extremely empathetic toward others and can be pretty sensitive at times. She is also happy go lucky and daring, a perpetual songbird, a natural born dancer, and an artist in the making. She is my little shopping partner and I can see the girl she will be in a few years in those moments when its just the two of us together. Shes taken to carrying her purse with her wherever she goes lately and even though its already overpacked with Cheetos, her wallet, dolls, earrings, bracelets, coloring pages, crayons, livestock, paper towels, and Little Debbie snack cakes (the important stuff for any seven year old girl), shes still not satisfied until shes got herself a bottle of hand sanitizer in there. And no, I have no idea who she gets it from.
Elvis
Not the
actual Elvis. Everybody knows the only place you can find him these days is in line at Burger King. Or stepping out of a Winnebago somewhere in Australia. No, this is Elvis the kitten. Frequently referred to as the cat. He was too busy hanging out in the ghetto and fighting off hound dogs to come along on this trip. Or so he says. In an effort to impress the ladies. Aka: Barbie and her scantily clad little friends. Except that the truth of the matter is that he was actually in the pound at the time. Doing hard time. And dancin to the Jailhouse Rock. We decided to get a pet for the kids and rescued him from the animal shelter shortly after we came home. He has no bearing whatsoever on this trip but you may see him mentioned (or you may not) so you should at least be familiar with him. The most important thing you should know about him is that hes never been to Disney and hes all shook up about it. Or so he says. When we hold him up and make him talk.
Of all the things that I could tell you about us, theres one that should be pretty obvious. Besides the fact that we say grace and we say maam, can quote some Bocephus (courtesy of my days at State) and have an unfortunate penchant for public puking.
In case you havent figured it out yet, we are a family who loves Disneyworld.
And to properly appreciate where we will end up at the end of this long and twisted journey, you must first fully understand just how deep our Disney geek runs.
Then again, youre on a Disney message board. Reading someones trip report. When you could be off watching the volleyball scene from Top Gun. Again. Of course you understand! You
are us. But just in case you stumbled upon this on your way over to the Crafts board or the Six Flags over Georgia board (do they have one of those yet?), let me break it down for you.
We are the people who listen to the soundtrack of our vacation year round. We wonder what type of soap Disney uses as we wash our hands with it and wish we could take some of it home with us. Just so we could have the smell bring us back whenever we want. Feel free to hightail it outta here after that last one. Personally I wouldve left before the end of Chapter 1 but thats just me. We know the Spanish portion of the monorail spiel by heart and take great pleasure out of mouthing the words to each other as we kick back on those hard aqua blue seats and glide effortlessly over Seven Seas Lagoon to our final destination in the Land of Yellow. We equate hard aqua blue seats with a good time. We havent referred to a park map in eighteen years. Give or take. We know where all the family bathrooms are. The smell of musty water is our laughing place. We already know the information the bellhop lays on us as he drops our (shamefully large amount of) bags off in the room after check in. We slap him twice (once on each cheek) with our flip flopped feet when he informs us that there are fireworks at Epicot each night at 9:00 and say Chald please
who you think you dealin with?! We clink glasses filled with sweet tea and lemon at the dinner table and yell Tiki Taki Tiki Taki Oy Oy Oy!. At our friends houses. Just to watch the look of confusion sweep across their faces. We can find a Hidden Mickey in a plate of fried okra at the local barbecue place. We refer to having called in our name ahead of time for a table at Chilis as being in the Fastpass line. As opposed to being in the loser(ish) Standby line. We laugh to ourselves and also out loud when friends of ours ask if Fastpass is free or refer to the Yeti as a gorilla.
Oh yeah.
Its been done.
And last but not least, we compare all vacation destinations to Disney. We try not to. We try really hard not to. We dont want to be constantly comparing one thing to the next. Because wheres the contentment in that? We want to let each place stand on its own and just experience it for what it is. But six consecutive years and one outstanding Honeymoon (in my case and many childhood trips where DH is concerned) have taken their toll. And as much as we may try to suppress it, Disney is our measuring stick.
In more ways than one.
Before we left on our trip, we told ourselves that we would not compare and contrast the two places. Our place and the other place. We said we would appreciate them separately. But we are who we are and comparisons were inevitable. In fact, my husband and I discussed in great length over the course of our trip some of the comparisons and contrasts of the two places. So I suppose that will be the viewpoint from which a good portion of this report will be written. If you choose to stick around (seriously, havent I scared you off yet?), youll get a glimpse of Disney through a Disney geeks eyes. And Universal through a Disney geeks eyes. In some ways, Universal didnt quite stack up. Because Disney is still the pinnacle of vacations for us. There is no question about that. But I have to say that we ended up being shocked, numb and dumbfounded (all at the same time) to find that there were some things about Universal that we liked better. A lot better, as a matter of fact.
Gasp!
As a whole, we thought the place was just downright cool. And we were truly surprised at just how much we liked it.
Scratch that.
Loved it. We absolutely loved the place.
There. I said it.
Feel free to catch up once youve removed the fork from your arm.
Ive already mentioned the fact that because this was a pretty spontaneous trip, there wasnt much time for planning. And when I say there wasnt much time for planning, what I mean was I barely had time to
YouTube some ride videos and check out the Universal board for some quick tips and the concensus on some of the favored restaurants there. As the time crunch kicked into high gear, I began to panic a little bit. It wasnt so much an Oh Snap! I cant believe Ive been walking around my high school reunion all night with toilet paper hanging out of the back of my skirt panic or an Oh Snap! My 69 Plymouth Volare is running really, really hot and making funny noises and the neighbors are standing in their yards placing bets on whether Ill be able to make it home before this baby blows up panic or even an Oh Snap! I just watched my firstborn child wolf down some pretty little flowers adorning a pretty little cake only to find out they were made of plastic and not sugar panic.
On second thought, I suppose it wasnt really a panic at all. More like a series of small, creeping worries.
I worried whether I would need to make reservations for the restaurants there the same way we make ADRs for Disney restaurants. 18000 days out. Which is what it always seems like to me. Since we were going during Spring Break (and at the last minute), I worried whether we would actually be able to get into the restaurants. I worried the crowds would be heavy enough to make us slap ourselves silly with strangers overpacked and foul smelling fanny packs and rue the day we were ever foolish enough to attempt Spring Break in Orlando. I worried that the rides might be a little too old for the kids compared to the ones at Disney.
And last but not least, I worried (ever so slightly) about the weather.
In fact, we both worried about the weather. Just a tad. Because, according to a few quick checks of weather.com (meaning: I checked it every five minutes and tried to will it to change) the day before we left, the forecast for Orlando was looking pretty dadgum dreary for the entire time we were supposed to be there. Not just one day. Not just two days. Or three, mind you. It was predicted to rain (and not just rain
STORM)
every single day we would be there.
EVERY SINGLE DAY.
Now, dont misunderstand. We know how to bust out a poncho or two and roll with it with the best of em. Weve done it plenty of times in the past and I have no doubt that well do it plenty of times in the future. Its just that we didnt want to have to roll with it like that the entire time we were there. We may not be Jim Cantore or even Nicolemarie but we know enough to know that the weather down there changes faster than Britney Spears changes her hair color. So we tried not to worry too much about it. Because rain or no rain, crowds or no crowds, reservations or no reservations (see? I didnt even have time to find out what acronym they use for their reservations!), we reminded ourselves that this vacation was the one we were going to do differently. We would throw the itinerary out the window and go with the flow more. We would not get stressed about the little things and most of all, we were determined to enjoy and treasure our time away to the absolute fullest extent possible.
We were going to make it count.
As we finished packing on Vacation Eve, we kept the possibility of a few very wet days ahead of us in mind. In other words, I brought along infinity plus one pair of shoes for everyone in the family. And the cat. Kidding. Cats dont wear shoes, silly. I also brought along eighteen ponchos (per person) and a flat bottom skiff.
Not kidding about that.
Or am I?
Our original plan had us leaving on a Sunday morning because our reservation at the Royal Pacific did not begin until that night. But we love us some vacation and will do anything to push it up a day whenever possible so we decided to leave on Saturday instead in order to be in Orlando bright and early Sunday morning. Ready to hit it.
Because thats ALWAYS how we roll.
DH made a last minute reservation at a moderately priced but hopefully clean hotel near Universal for that night and I added another essential bag to the mix. The overnight bag. Not to be confused with the overfournights bags. I amaze my husband in many ways. The amount of pictures I take on vacation, for instance, amazes him. But the amount of bags I will pack to take on vacation amazes him even more. If possible. And not in a good way. Especially considering the fact that he remarked before we left, La, this place has interior corridors (and in Redneck speak that means its high falutin, aka: not what were used to) so please, in the name of all that is good in the world, please pack light this time. Or light-ER, at least. Because I strive to be a good wife and would prefer to have my husband sane on vacation, I really did try to cut back on the number of bags we brought this year. And I did. I pulled it off. We didnt bring as many bags as we normally do.
We brought just as much stuff. Same amount as every year. Just less bags.
Because marriage is all about compromise.
By the time Id crammed everything in and had both the kids and the neighbors (all of them) jump on it while I yanked and tugged on the zipper as hard as I could (imagine a scene from the Worlds Strongest Man Competition only with a woman who looks nothing like Helmut from Brussells), and finally got them closed, each bag ended up being roughly three feet tall and weighed 200 pounds.
NODanny DeVito.
Considering the fact that the next morning would bring with it possibly the worlds worst driving conditions ever in the history of road trips, that may have been a good thing. Because as it turned out, we probably needed a lil sumpm sumpm to weigh the van down.
In an attempt to keep it on the road.
When we woke up the next morning, the rain was coming down in sheets.
Sideways. Round and round. Back and forth and up and down.
In other words, it was the crappiest weather ever for an eight hour road trip.
We had originally planned on getting up earlier than we did on Departure Day but because the sound of rain on the roof coupled with the cool, still darkness of the room always makes us loathe to get out of our bed (which is probably the most comfortable bed ever), we stayed wrapped up in the covers a little longer. We tried to get out of bed shortly after the alarm went off, but the down comforter reached up, grabbed us from behind and said I dont think so. Get your tail back in here. And we succumbed. Because it was the official start of vacation. We didnt have to be anywhere at any certain time and we had all day to travel. So the way we figured it, we could afford to curl up just a little bit longer. It was the first time wed ever chosen to sleep in a little longer on Departure Day. It was nice, I have to admit. Really nice, as a matter of fact. Letting go of the feeling that we have to stick to the schedule. Or else bad, horrible things would happen. We got a taste of it that morning and found it to be scrumpdillyicious.
And that would set the tone for the rest of our trip.
Once we were all up and dressed, we grabbed some breakfast and packed the van. Correction. DH packed the van because as someone other than DH, Im not allowed anywhere near the van during packing time. Remember that little sweetheart? Good thing one of us does because I forgot about that all important rule last October. I had an extra day off work before we left and DH didnt so I took the liberty of packing the van while he was at work. I thought Id surprise him.
Oh, I surprised him allright.
He walked in the garage, took one look at the shadows in the back of the van, raised his outstretched arms into a questioning gesture and asked in his best Tommy Boy voice, WHUDYA DO?!
I packed the van. Thats what I did. Baby. For you. It was all for you. Why? What's wrong?
He stared at me. Then he stared at the van. Then back at me. He was at a loss for words at the thought of my selfless and extremely generous act, no doubt.
Then he shook his head and thanked me for trying. Told me he appreciated the effort. Gave me a kiss. Sent me inside to check on the kids. And then the man proceeded to roll up his sleeves and
take everything back out. And repack the van. It took him close to five hours to get all 98 bags situated the way he wanted but dangit, that cooler access was unobstructed by the time he was done so I suppose it was all worth it.
Because thats what its all about. Cooler access.
Not the hokey pokey. Don't believe the hype.
So this year, I wisely stayed out of his way and watched him work. Once he was done loading the back, he decided to load the front as well. The CD changer, that is. He loaded all six slots with some mystery music. He was pretty excited about his choice in music for the drive down and refused to tell me what hed loaded until we were on our way.
Because thats how he rolls it.
The kids were over the moon about the trip and were bouncing off the walls that morning. Word travels fast on the playground and theyd heard good things about Universal. So they were ready to get down there and have some fun. As we were leaving, the girl tried to sneak in another bag of toys at the last minute. Because she didnt have enough already but mostly because the apple does not fall far from the tree. She probably wouldve gotten away with it too had she not
A) chosen the absolute biggest and pinkest bag man has ever seen fit to create
B) set said bag on top of the cooler
Ive got my work cut out for me with that one. Ive gotta show the girl a thing or two about not getting caught sneaking bags into the van after the packing period has officially ended.
After a quick reshuffle from the man (meaning he reshuffled the five foot wide pink bag right back into the house sans the Mickey and Minnie dolls previously stuffed inside), we were all buckled in and ready to go.
We sat in the quiet shelter of our driveway for a few minutes with the front of the van facing out toward the monsoon that swirled before us. We all held hands and prayed an extra long prayer for our trip this time around. We prayed for Gods protection over our family and we prayed for a blessed time of family togetherness down in Florida. And we thanked Him for, among many other things, the ability to take such an awesome trip together.
As we said Amen, the kids began to clap and cheer from the back seat. They were so excited they may have even done the Hamma. In their seatbelts with their feet in mid air. And yes, it can be done.
I wouldn't reccomend it. Especially if you're the one who happens to be sitting in front of the excitable ten year old boy child with leg muscles that rival those of oxen.
But still.
It's all good. Because it was time.
Up next: Who is Ezra and what's so great about her anyway?
I can't wait to read since we are doing Universal this year too
Can't wait. Keep on writing.
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