In case you haven't already figured it out yet, there arent too many things that are more exciting to me and my husband than getting something for free. Especially if what were getting for free turns out to be the bomb diggity. So when we opened the door to our hotel room and saw what was waiting for us on the table that day, we did the happy dance.
Well, I did the happy dance. Everybody else just wanted to know what was up with the milk and cookies. Dawg.
I know they may look like ordinary milk and cookies, but make no mistake about it. They were
not. Not by a long shot.
They were
free milk and cookies. Bestowed on us by the Milk and Cookie Fairy. Found exclusively at Ersal Studios. And better known as housekeeping.
Another little advantage of staying in a Loews hotel (as if we needed another one after the day wed spent dissin all the losers without Universal Express) is the fact that when you sign up for a Loews First membership on their website, you are entitled to certain perks upon check in. One of those perks is a welcome gift. Theres a list of goodies you can choose from and we decided to go with the beer and nuts.
Except that we went with the milk and cookies instead. Obviously. Because were cool like that. And also because were smart like that. As smart as we are though (and we are very smart
sometimes
okay, hardly ever), there was no way we couldve known just how good The Cookies would turn out to be. I cannot properly describe to you how delicious The Cookies were. I suppose I could write an entire chapter on The Cookies if I were so inclined. But what kind of person writes an entire chapter about baked goods? So instead, Ill just say that they were INCREDIBLY good. Dole Whip good. Just got a promotion along with a kickin raise good. Third date good. Aced the final exam good. Relaxing on the bow of a sailboat on a clear, calm day good. Free one day Disneyworld pass good. Taking gold (again!) in the Olympic Waterslide event good. Seinfeld Season Seven good. The Notebook good. Van Halen BEFORE Sammy Hagar good. Just booked a trip to Disneyworld good. I wouldnt go so far as to compare it to the birth of my children or the day my husband asked me to marry him. Because after all, they are just cookies. But they were quite possibly the best cookies Ive ever had the pleasure of putting in my mouth.
Simply put, it was love at first bite.
I took a bite and fell to the floor. Delirious and love drunk. Kind of. At any rate, I was unable to separate myself from The Cookie. It mustve been an inch thick. An inch thick! Id never seen cookies like that before. So I took another bite, professed my love for The Cookie to anyone and everyone who would listen, and then I took another picture. Lovingly. To preserve the moment.
But mostly to spite Chappie. With my slightly fuzzy picture.
Ten seconds later when all traces of The Cookies had been fought over and devoured by our crew, I decided it was time to start the dreaded shower shuffle while DH went on a little mission.
Feel free to insert the Mission Impossible theme here.
Ever since wed checked in and hed tried the cooler than cool Keurig coffee maker, the man had been wondering if they had any other coffee choices besides what wed been offered. Now, he has nothing against Emerils Bold and Intense, but he was in the mood for what he referred to as just regular coffee. Without so much BAM!
He went out into the hallway and flagged down a member of the aforementioned Milk and Cookie Fairy Brigade and proceeded to become one of the most frustrated men on the face of the planet in just under sixty seconds.
DH: Hello.
Heloisa Helpful: Aloha.
DH: Yeah, aloha. Whatever. Look, is there any way I can get different pods for the coffeemaker? The Emerils stuff is not really my bag. Do you have any different varieties? I just want a regular blend. Can you help me with that?
Heloisa Helpful:
Eh?
DH: Regular. I want regular coffee. Do you have regular coffee pods for the coffeemaker? Something other than that Emerils crap yall are pushing?
Heloisa Helpful: You take-a the cup and push it
.you push it?...no?
.and you having the coffee.
DH:
Stares at her silently for a minute or two.
Then
DH: No. No, I know how to make the coffee. Im asking you if you have any different varieties, something other than whats in there already.
Heloisa Helpful: (confused smile) You have-a the coffee and you push it
.you push it (complete with hand gestures)
and putting the cup over this and you are to be having the coffee. Yes?
DH: No. You dont understand what Im asking. (Now hes resorted to hand gestures) I need regular coffee. RE-GU-LAR. (Its sign language at this point. He points to his lips as he enunciates. Like hes Uncle Louis telling Aunt Bethany to say the blessing) Regular. Not Emerils. I dont want that. I want regular coffee. Can you bring me regular coffee pods?
Heloisa Helpful: (smiles weakly
.again) You
eh
. taking the coffee and push it? No? And you
eh
pouring coffee out. You pouring the coffee. See?
DH:
Ahhhh, I see. Yes, now I understand perfectly. Thank you. Thank you so much for enlightening me.
And with that, my husband turned and walked away a defeated man. A man unable to break the language barrier, even with his superior hand gestures, lip curls and volume control. A man convinced that in all of Orlando, there is not a single member of housekeeping who speaks decent English and is capable of bringing him a little regular coffee.
I gave him a sympathy pat on the back and on my way into the bathroom, I shot out You know, you shouldve just told her you needed eegulah. She wouldve understood that.
DOH!, I heard him exclaim as I turned down the cooler than cool dimmer switches to just a notch above off and stepped into the shower. Using all fifty handrails surrounding the tub.
Not.
Once we all had a turn getting gussied up, we headed downstairs for a dinner reservation that had been years in the making.
In our house, we watch a good bit of Food Network and several years ago, I saw a piece they did on Emerils newest restaurant at the time, Tchoup Chop. He was opening the restaurant and I remember wanting to try the place out at the time. I wanted to try it out something fierce. That was many moons ago and although weve been to the Orlando area plenty of times since then, the fact that Tchoup Chop was in a Universal resort may as well have meant it was a world away. There was no way we were leaving Disney property to venture over to Universal property just to have a meal. Even if that goat cheese and essence loving chef was involved. So when we discovered that Tchoup Chop was in the Royal Pacific, where we JUST SO HAPPENED to be camping out for four nights, we jumped at the opportunity to have dinner there. And wed really been looking forward to it. Id eaten at NOLA before but the kids and DH had never been to one of Emerils restaurants. The kids LOVE watching him on TV (almost as much as they love watching Rachel Ray) and they thought they were THE STUFF because we were going to be dining at his restaurant. Lest they get their hopes up, we kept reminding them that Emeril would NOT be in the kitchen throwing around essence and goat cheese and shouting BAM! for no good reason. Or telling Doc to give him some vegetable chopping music. Still, they were pumped up just the same. There was a whole lot of unnecessary BAMing going on in our conversations that day and we got giddy as we walked up to the joint.
BAM!
We walked in the door and I have to admit, I was a little taken aback. The place was downright gorgeous.
I wouldnt go so far as to say the restaurant was fancy schmancy, but there were real linens on the table, there was a very happy dude at the door in a fancy suit giving off that I only answer to Emeril vibe and most importantly, most MOST importantly, there was a real live lilly pad pond going through the middle of the restaurant.
A lilly pad pond!
You know its big time when a lilly pad pond runs through it. Heck, they could make a movie about the restaurant and cast Brad Pitt in it. Somebody needs to throw him a bone because lets face it, the poor mans gonna need all the work he can get if they keep adding to their brood at the pace theyre going. I fully expect Brangelina to one up the Duggars by years end.
But back to the restaurant.
Although the place wasnt really stuffy per se, this wasnt exactly Cracker Barrell. And we didnt exactly fit in. What with the whole Redneck Country Come to Town thing we had going on. But that didnt stop us from trying to fake it.
We were shown to our table by someone carrying a towel draped over his forearm. Which was weird. Suggestions were made for dinner and we passed out twice when we saw the prices. For the appetizers alone. We were making jokes about the duck confit and reminding each other to keep our elbows off the table and start with the fork on the outside when our waiter approached and informed us that they were offering water service for the evening. As if thats not a regular thing. We laughed out loud and rolled our eyes. I think DH even pointed a thumb his way and said Get a load of THIS guy! Okay so he didnt. But I could tell he wanted to. We were then given several choices of water. And THAT is when we knew we were officially in a swanky joint. When they give you a water list, thats when you know theres probably not gonna be anything with sliced roast beef and processed cheese sauce on the menu. Anyway, he laid out our choices. Instead of just slippin us the tap water from out back. Like most places we frequent.
Mr. Fancy Pants: We have Evian,
blah blah blah, Fiji, somethin and somethin' else,
blah blah blah, and tap for your enjoyment this evening. Maam, which would you prefer?
You thought I was gonna say Just bring us some tap water, didnt you? If DH wouldve been the one answering the question, he would have. In a heartbeat. But I happen to have a
little class. So instead of telling him to bring us a lil sumpm sumpm from the bathroom faucet, I clear my throat, sit up straight and say Well have the Fuji.
The Fuji?!
What the heck was that? Well have the Fuji?!
I know its Fiji. I KNOW this. Yet still, I told him to go head on and hook us up with some of that there fancy Fuji water. And make it snappy, boy. I was DED the instant it came out of my mouth. In slow motion. I tried to grab the word and shove it back in. No dice. It was out there. Lingering on the air. Mocking me with its blatant incorrectness. The only other time Id ever felt that dumb was when I mistakenly referred to a desk as a deskes at the very end of a rather lengthy job interview. Didnt work out so well for me, that one.
But I digress. Back to the Fuji.
Mr. Fancy Pants: You mean youll have FIJI?
Me: Yes. Thats what I said. Get the ear wax out of your ears. Well have the Fiji.
Me: (after he walks away) Oh snap! I just called it Fuji and he corrected me.
DH: Yeah, I got that. But isnt that the water thats sitting in our room with a sign on it that says seven bucks a bottle? For something like three ounces?
Me: Thats the one. They dont charge for water service, do they? I thought it was free. Its water, dont they give you water for free in restaurants?
DH: I dont know but we should find out. Otherwise were going with tap water.
Me: No were not. And Im not asking. You ask.
DH: Im not doin it. You already called it Fuji. We have to pretend at least one of us has some class. Now get your elbows off the table and remember to start on the outside. And tell the kids to stop doing the backstroke in the lilly pad pond.
The waitress comes back with the water and we sit silently as its being poured. Were both wondering how much its costing us, that fancy Fuji water. But we speak not a word. Until its time to place our orders. I went with one of the two dishes that came highly recommended by the waiter earlier, the Shrimp Pad Thai. But only because I wanted to say Shrimp Pad Thai out loud. It was decent, but nothing to write home about. For DHs meal, he seemed intrigued by the duck. But only because hed never had it before. So we spent a little time asking questions about the duck. How is it prepared, what does it taste like, do you cut the head off before you serve it, will you sing
Deck De Hall Wif Bough of Horry, Fa Ra Ra Ra Ra, Ra Ra Ra Ra when you serve it? That kind of thing. The boy had some sort of fish and after an exhaustive and unproductive search of the kids menu, we ordered a round of ribs from the regular appetizer menu for the girl. That turned out to be the best dish any of us had that night. Im telling you now. That rib appetizer rivaled the goodness of The Cookies. I know because I snuck one off her plate when she wasnt looking. Ditto with the duck. Actually, I didnt have to sneak it. DH took one look at it and wound up trying to trade fair and square for it. Being adventurous and remembering hearing some of my friends rave about duck in the past, I tried it.
And then spit it right back out in my napkin.
In my mind.
I couldnt bring myself to do that (I actually do have
some class) but I SO wanted to. It was disgusting. Absolutely vile. I havent tasted anything that nasty since the Mystery Meat Incident of 2003 when were pretty sure we ate freezer burned possum. Passed off as turkey. Lovingly prepared by a sweet little 93 year old prayer warrior at a church get together. And just like I did that day, I cringed and stuck my tongue out with the half chewed duck on the end in an effort to relay to my husband just how gross I thought it was. Then I suffered through the chewing of the duck, swallowed with one quick and painful gulp, chased it with an entire glass of tea and stood up and scrubbed my tongue with my napkin. Really hard. In an effort to rid myself of the newly corrupted taste buds which inhabited my tongue.
Needless to say, Mama dont like duck.
DH thought it was good though. Obviously I got all the taste in the family.
All in all, I have to say Tchoup Chop was a little bit of a disappointment. Minus the ribs and the prawn chips with peanut sauce they give you at the beginning of your meal. Those babies were addictive. Dont get me wrong. It was a beautiful restaurant and Im glad we finally had the opportunity to eat there so we can cross that off the list, but it just didnt live up to my expectations. Not by a long shot. For years Id wanted to eat there and when it came right down to it, it just wasnt as good as I thought it would be.
Darn those great expectations of mine. They trip me up every time.
With our Tchoup Chop meal fast becoming a memory, we settled up and saddled up. And took a stroll around the resort.
It was nearing sunset and we didnt feel like heading back to the room just yet so we decided to stretch our legs and took off on the resort walkway. In the general direction of Citywalk.
We took some pictures of the scenery along the way.
It was a beautiful evening and we really enjoyed our walk. The kids ran just ahead of us, eager to check out the scene and my husband and I held hands as we walked. Once we made it to Citywalk, we didnt really have any plans so we just kind of wandered around the place aimlessly.
Like Amy Winehouse.
Except without all the crack and booze.
We did find they have souvenir carts similar to those in Disney.
Yep, they have lanyards, pins, the whole nine yards. The carts even look the same. Which prompted my husband to remark They KNOW theyre some copying jokers.
Which made me laugh. Harder than it probably should have. But I love a little truth with my humor. And DH can bring it and bring it good when he wants to.
After strolling around Citywalk for awhile and not being able to find a whole heck of a lot that we wanted to get into, the kids began to beg to head back to the resort and go swimming. We were on vacation. It had been forty five minutes (give or take) since theyd eaten. But most importantly, we didnt have any plans for the rest of the evening.
Done. Just like that.
We turned around and headed back to the walkway and within roughly ten minutes, we were in the room getting changed into our bathing suits. We spent the next couple of hours swimming in the cooler than cool pool at the Royal P.
There arent too many things that scream vacation to me more than a little night swimming. When my brother, my sister and I were little and our parents would take us on vacation, the hotel pool was always where it was at. It didnt matter where we were, as long as the hotel or campground had a pool, we thought it was big time. Especially at night. Because that was something we never got to do at home. Swimming at night was unheard of back in the land of school and responsibilities. I remember many nights spent watching the glow of the lights underneath the rippling water and feeling the chill in the air and thinking how downright cool vacation was. Fast forward in time to two kids who look amazingly similar to that little girl in the pool all those years ago and love it just as much as she did. Probably for some of the same reasons. But mostly, Im sure, because it was just downright fun. Plain and simple. They were eating it up with a spoon and just enjoying the heck out of themselves. I went in with them for a little bit and then when they decided it was my turn to get blown away by a blast of arctic pool water via this little contraption
.
I called no joy, wrapped myself up in a big thirsty towel and pulled my pants back on. Because by this point, it was a little chilly out. And then I plopped down beside my husband in a lounge chair. After checking my voicemail and returning a phone call to a friend, my husband and I watched our children play in the pool and had some lengthy uninterrupted conversation, which was really nice. It was the perfect ending to a perfect night.
Well, perfect not counting the duck.
I still have nightmares about the texture.
We eventually found our way back to the room and after getting cleaned up, we tucked in Mickey and Minnie and the newest member of their family, Michael Mouse, and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning we awoke (without a wake up call again) at the crack of dawn. In other words, we rolled out of bed around 9:00. After grabbing showers and breakfast, we threw the kids the shirts wed picked up at Universal Studios the day before and told them to get dressed and make it snappy.
Let me stop right here and tell you something right now. If you ever decide to go to Ersal Studios/Islands of Adventure, if you dont have a couple of these shirts, you may as well just pack up and go home because youve missed the C Train.
The cool train, that is.
Everyone was all over the Thing 1 and Thing 2 shirts. Including us. Personally, I thought they were pretty darn cute. Especially when we ran into familes with more than two kids. The shirts went all the way up to somewhere around Thing 18 I think. Not really. But they should have. Wed picked up a Thing 1 and Thing 2 shirt for the kids the day before and they were ready and raring to make their fashion debut at Islands of Adventure.
That would turn out to be a pretty good decision, considering the characters we would run into that day.
As we made our way to the elevator, we talked about what we might want to do that day. We had nothing on the itinerary other than a lunch reservation, which meant the entire day would pretty much be spent flying by the seat of our pants.
Which made both me and DH smile. We were
so becoming flying by the seat of our pants people.
Its all about relaxation. And Universal Express, baby. But mostly relaxation.
We were so relaxed it was pathetic. In fact, we were nearly comatose when the elevator doors opened and the sweet little family of three who had previously occupied the elevator walked out into the hallway. We were having to prop ourselves up in the doorway as we greeted them in a relaxed yet friendly manner. Obviously they were just checking in and eager to find their room, jump on the beds, pack all of their stuff in the drawers, turn down the dimmer switches in the bathroom, test the boundaries of the hot water supply and last but not least, stow their overabundance of bags and head out to hit the parks with their Universal Express passes.
Like we OBVIOUSLY were about to be doing.
They walked out and we walked in. All relaxed and stuff.
Like clockwork, as soon as we stepped into the elevator, the kids began to argue over who would get to push the button for our floor and over the din of their conversation, we were barely able to make out the wife asking her husband what their room number was. As he pulled out his resort card key, all ready to throw open the door to their home for the next however many days, we noticed him checking the room number.
2505.
He said.
As they walked off into the distance.
That, we heard. Loud and clear.
Two seconds before the heavy steel doors closed, both mine and my husbands heads spun around to meet each other nose to nose. Eyeball to eyeball. Our mouths dropped. In perfect yet unplanned synchronization. The silence was deafening. We both knew without saying a word. We were thinking the exact same thing.
Did you hear what I heard? Did he just say 2505?!
Thats OUR room number!
And in that instant, in that moment of realization, the doors slam shut.
BAM!
Oh snap.
Up next: The Adventure Begins
Thanks for giving us all the scoop! 
