LaLa
Hangs with the Mensas
- Joined
- Aug 26, 2005
- Messages
- 2,096
Last October, if you had told me my family would soon be sitting on four FREE tickets to Epicot, I probably wouldn’t have believed you.
If you had then told me we would only have one day to experience the park that my husband once described as “the happiest place this side of Heaven” (FOR FREE!) and that we had absolutely no intentions of making rope drop in order to do it, not only would I not have believed you, but I also would’ve whipped you, beaten you, and called you Edna.
And then subjected you to the longest run-on sentence on the face of the planet.
One or the other.
Most likely the run-on sentence thing and not so much the other.
Because that’s just weird.
We woke up the next morning not at the crack of dawn, but more like the crack of nine. Ish. Let it out, NM. Breathe from your diaphragm and just let it out.
Now, under normal circumstances (our crew staying on Disney property and not Universal property), we would be in the position of being able to return to the room for a mid day break and therefore would’ve been up and ready to hit the bus stop at 8:30. With bells on. And plenty of skip in our step. Literally. Cause that’s how we roll. But we weren’t on Disney property. Therefore there would be no bus stops and mid day breaks. No bells. No skipping. Who am I kidding? There’s always skipping. And bells. But once we left, we were there for good. And we knew from past experiences that it wasn’t wise to try and make rope drop and Illuminations all in the same day with no breaks in between. And since there was no way in the world we were gonna miss a FREE showing of Illuminations, we decided to sleep in and head to the park at a leisurely pace that morning. In an effort to preserve our sanity. But mostly our feet. And actually be in the World Showcase when the torches were all blown out by the invisible man instead of in the parking lot. Limping. While carrying two overly tired whiny kids. And wearing our angry eyes.
Not that we’ve ever done that.
Once we were awake, we got up and got dressed pretty fast that morning, as I recall. We were all pretty darn excited to be heading to Epicot. Our Epicot.
Or, as our daughter now calls it, Epcot.
Insert record scratching noise here.
Oh yeah. You read it right.
There wasn’t any cute, familiar, little girl mispronunciation that morning as in days gone by. The girl actually said it right. To my utter shock and dismay. I immediately fell to my knees shouting “Why?! Why must you children torment me this way?! Why must you grow up?!” Except that I didn’t really. I’m not a complete freak. Instead I held it in and corrected her. “No, no, honey. It’s EpIcot. EpIcot. Remember?” She laughed her little seven year old laugh and dismissed my perceived silliness with “Moooo-ooom, no it’s not. It’s Epcot.”
In a tone that sounded much more mature than seven years old.
I screwed my eyes shut where I stood, stuck my fingers in my ears and launched into a rendition of “la la la la la….la la la la la…..not list-ening!”
But only in my head.
We had quite the discussion that morning on the way to the car. There was lots of cutting up and lots of trying to convince the girl that it actually was Epicot. On my part. Lots of ordering her NOT to pronounce it as Epicot. On the boy’s part. And lots of trying to convince the girl that it was actually Six Flags. And that it was closed anyway.
On DH’s part.
As we made our way through the doors of the resort, the girl grabbed my hand and cuddled up to me for a sideways leg hug. She looked up at me, stroked my arm and informed me that although she knew it was Epcot, she would still call it Epicot. For me. Which made me melt into a puddle. Right where I stood. I bent down and made sure she understood that I had just been joking with her and that I was proud that she was now calling it by the correct name because it meant she was growing up to be a fine, intelligent young lady. Then I gave her a hug and told her how much I loved her. As we made our way toward the car, she remarked, “You know I’ll always be your little girl. Even when I’m a grandma.”
I stopped short, gave her a sappy smile and agreed, “Yes. Yes you will”. And then I stole a hug and a kiss from my little girl, who seemed surprisingly wise beyond in her years in that moment.
Which I suppose is not such a bad thing to be.
Then the four of us climbed into the minivan, cranked up some kickin’ Disney Toons and cut a trail to the Happiest Place This Side of Heaven. All giddy and stuff. On our way, we passed underneath these little beauties and I actually got a decent shot this time.
Amazing how fast that Disneyfreude (Disneyschadenfreude?) can set in. Because as soon as we passed the arches, I turned around and took a snap shot of them in the distance. Already dreading the moment we would have to leave.
We pulled into the massive stretch of asphalt known as the Epicot parking lot and were directed to the next available row by a kindly gentleman dressed in fancy Bermuda shorts and a funny hat. We were then directed to the next available parking space by another kindly gentleman dressed in fancy Bermuda shorts and a funny hat. When we got out of the car, we were directed to the direction of the nearest parking tram stop. By yet another gentleman dressed in fancy Bermuda shorts and a funny hat. Within one minute, a tram came by to pick us up. And we were directed into our seats and reminded to keep our arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times. It was at this point that my husband and I began a discussion about how Disney really has their stuff together. We all know how great their rides and attractions are. And we all marvel at how much thought and imagination are put into those. But it’s when the little details hit us, the little details like how organized and together the parking lot routine is, that we realize just how cool Disney actually is. And how much thought and effort they put into making things seem to flow so seamlessly to their guests. And on that morning, it was all working together like a well oiled machine.
Which caused DH to remark out loud “You know, nothing can compare to Disneyworld. They really are on top of their game.” His remark was greeted with a hearty “Here, here!” from a gentleman on the tram sitting just to my left. I thought about asking him if he posted on a Disney message board under the name ZZUB but he actually smelled of something other than rancid ginger and wasn’t carrying an Alabama foam finger around with him. Shoving it in unsuspecting people’s faces. And yelling “ROLL TIDE!” in their ears at the top of his lungs. So I knew it couldn't be him.
Or Mel either. For that matter.
Once we reached the front of the park, we took out our tickets, waved them all around for everyone to see what a quad of FREE (have I mentioned that they were FREE?) passes looked like and then got in line. I was a little anxious because I just had a feeling things would probably NOT go as smoothly at the turnstiles as Miss “Far Removed From the Action and Public Humiliation” Ticket Services had explained over the phone. I was a little gun shy and it all just seemed a little too good to be true.
And you know how that usually goes.
Since the crowds were pretty heavy (Spring Break, remember?), it took us a little while to make our way to the turnstiles. Once we did, I went first. Just like the time I offered to go first during that horrible procedure at the hospital lab in the middle of our MRSA scare. And just as it was on that day, going first was a big mistake. Not so much an “I’m gonna step up to the plate and show the kids having a lab assistant shove a foot long Qtip up my nose and into the recesses of my brain via my nasal passages isn’t scary OR painful as the rest of my family watches in horror at the wrongs being committed against me and my sinuses with what would turn out to be the wrong size Qtip” mistake. More like an “Oh snap, here we go with the public humiliation again” mistake.
So I inserted my Pirate and Princess Party ticket into the Epicot turnstile.
And was flatly denied.
Shocker.
The CM working the turnstile looked at the notification screen on her side and then looked at me. And practically screamed “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! THESE ARE NOT TICKETS TO EPCOT. THESE ARE FOR THE MAGIC KINGDOM. THE MAGIC KINDGOM! YOU’RE IN THE WRONG PLACE! YOU CAN’T USE THESE HERE!”
DH and the kids sidestep it away from me and feign surprise. While DH looks at the lady next to him in line, shrugs his shoulders and points his entire arm at me and wiggles his finger around.
Like I imagine Adam pointed to Eve when they got busted.
I throw back “I AM AWARE!” in my best George Costanza voice.
And then both my husband and I launch into an explanation. Alternately and together. All at the same time. Pirate and Princess Party. Ticket Services. Said they’d be good anywhere. Yada yada yada. Here we stand. With Pirate and Princess party tickets. For Epcot. We’re not dumb, you know.
Once we stopped talking, she told me to try it again. I did. No dice. She then told me to try another ticket. Which we did. No soup for us. I tried once again for good measure and this time jumped up and down and rubbed DH’s belly. While I stood on my head and chunked a penny toward the dancing fountain on the off chance that Wishes didn’t appear exclusively at the Magic Kingdom. Nothing. So before the crowd looking over our shoulders got all East Coast/West Coast on us, the CM shrugged her shoulders and passed the buck. She directed us to Guest Services and told us they might be able to help.
As we walked away, ducking to avoid the eggs and rotten tomatoes flying our way, we couldn’t help but feel a little dejected. What if we didn’t get it worked out? Had we worked ourselves into an Epicot lovin’ frenzy for nothing that morning?
We approached Guest Services and when it was our turn, we stepped up to the plate and explained our sitchashun. I told him I was told by Ticket Services that the passes would be good for any park and asked if there was any way he could help us out. While pushing a cute, dejected child with a long face up to the window. And pinching her so she would cry. Just kidding. Please. What kind of mother do you think I am?
Wait. Don’t answer that.
Mr. Get ‘Er Done got on the horn and reached out and touched somebody. It took a long time. A really long time. Long enough for me to grow out my underarm hair, take to smoking unfiltered cigarettes and jet around the joint on a moped wearing a raspberry beret. If only I’d felt the urge. Once he hung up the phone, he explained that the tickets had only been credited with a return day at the Magic Kingdom. So in reality, it hadn’t been good for any park after all. But Mr. Helpy Helper followed the bad news with some good news by telling us that he would gladly rectify that by cancelling those tickets out and reissuing us four new one day passes for Epicot instead.
FO FREE!!!!
BOOYA BABY!!!
We were in like Flynn!
You should assume there was a lot of smiling and high fiving. Mostly each other, but also strangers too. We were ecstatic and could hardly contain our excitement for the entirety of the twenty three minutes it took for him to cancel out the old cards and reissue four new ones. It really did take a long time. I passed the time by looking around. Complimenting him on his spiffy little plaid vest. Silently wondering if it was gabardine. Wondering what the heck gabardine actually was. Thinking it must be awfully hot under that vest all day. Gabardine or not. Wondering if they still have the cute little Elusive Key Lime Pies at the Seasons counter service place. And making useless small talk when I wasn’t consumed by my own useless random thoughts.
Just because I felt I needed to be nice.
When we finally had our new, FREE tickets in hand, we thanked him profusely and headed right back to the same turnstile. And this time as we slid our tickets into the scanner, there was no shame in our game because those babies slid right through.
Like a hot knife through butta.
Ahhhh yeah. It was ON, baby!
We walked into the place that we love so much and took in the sights and the sounds. Breathed in deeply and felt… like we’d come home. If I were the kind of girl who gets emotional, I may have possibly gotten a little verklempt as we stood there. On the other side of the turnstiles. This trip, like so many others taken at the House of Mouse, had been chock full of good times and blessings too numerous to count. And here was yet another one. We were in awe at the way things continued to fall into place and right then and there, both my husband and I took a moment to thank God for all the blessings He’d sent our way and recount them to each other. And then we paused for the necessary pictures in front of Spaceship Earth, formerly known as “Space Mountain because I said it” to the girl, waved to our mugs on the way into the Granite Garden and squealed with excitement.
Even though the place was crowded and we had gotten to the park well past rope drop, we still weren’t very concerned about our plan for the day because our list was short. We only had three goals that day.
1) Ride Soarin’
2) Take a spin on Test Track
4) Enjoy Illuminations
That was it. Anything else that we just so happened to fall into along the way would be considered gravy.
Well, I forgot one.
7) Track down the Main Mouse
That one was mainly for the girl. She’d been missing Mickey something fierce and we had to work in some face time with the mouse himself for her. So I did some quick thinking and laid out the plan to the family.
That’s right, Ash. Characters. First thing in the morning. How crazy would it drive you to vacation with us?
As the kids and I made a beeline for Epcot’s Character Spot, DH ran across the park to grab fastpasses for Soarin’. As one would expect during Spring Break, the line for the characters was already long by the time we got there. Crazy long. So I asked the attendant how long he thought it would be before we made it around to the characters.
He responded quickly with “Twenty minutes.”
What-EVER!
I knew there was NO WAY that line was only gonna take us twenty minutes to get through. Forty maybe. But twenty? Definitely not. But the girl really wanted to see Mickey and Minnie. DH eventually returned, took one look at the line that wrapped all the way around the building and halfway to China, then threw his hands up in the air and said “This is RIDICULOUS!” At which point, I responded “Twenty minutes?”
And then laughed. Because try as I might, I just couldn’t play that one off.
When DH showed up and pointed out how long the line was, the boy decided he wasn’t down with waiting to see the characters when there was international candy to be had so he took off with his dad for some male bonding time. We synchronized our watches and planned to meet back up at Biergarten in time for our lunch ADR. And then the boys took off to explore the World Showcase at a leisurely pace while the girls explored the confines of a neverending queue. Dirty carpet. And smelly tourists.
While we waited, we struck up a conversation with another mom and her daughter who were doing the same thing we were. Our girls were about the same age and they hit it off really well. Ditto the mom and me. One of the things that I enjoy talking about with other families that we meet in Disney is their accommodations and their opinions about the things that they’ve done so far. I particularly like finding out what they think about the resorts and anytime I meet someone there, that’s one of the first few questions I ask. And so it was that I found out that Mrs. North Carolina and her crew were DVC members and were staying in one of the villas. I can't remember which one it was at this point but I do remember they were happy with their lodging. And then she asked me which resort we were staying in.
“The Royal Pacific”, I said. And then coughed. Ever so slightly.
Complete silence.
You could’ve heard a pin drop. What’s with all the pin dropping anyway? I don’t even know.
I followed it with, “Yeah, it’s not actually on Disney property, per se. More like Universal property? We’re staying at Universal and just came over here for the day. ”
“Oh”, she said.
And that was it. Nothing more.
Just “oh”. Which completely cracked me up. Because I was her. And she was me. Until this trip, that is. And I knew exactly what she was thinking. I think she may have even called me good for nothing non resort rabble. With her eyes.
It struck me so funny I literally had to stifle a laugh and turn my head. Bite my lip and all that jazz. Oh. It's the new “Must suck to be you!”
Right before it was our turn to rub elbows with Mickey, the little girl and our daughter bid each other farewell. Basically, they told each other bye. Then giggled a lot. And swayed. At which point, our daughter’s new “best frand” whispered something in her mother’s ear and with her mom’s blessing, took a pin from her lanyard and gave it to our daughter. It was really sweet and the gesture made our daughter’s day. They hugged and laughed some more. And promised to write and call each other every single day. Kidding. But it just goes to show you that for all the rude people we encounter in Disney, there are still lots of good, kind hearted people out there as well.
We worked our way up to the front and made the rounds with the crew we love so much.
I'm happy to report there wasn't a Captain America in the bunch. Once we finally made it through the line, I checked my watch. And almost hyperventilated at what I saw.
It had taken us roughly an hour to get through the line. And we were late for a very important date.
Now, I had been keeping up with the time while we were going through the line and had already called my husband to tell him we would be running late for our ADR. He had already told the hostess at Biergarten that we were on our way. So things were under control. But by the time we got out of the building, got our butts in gear and made it around to Germany (doing the half run, half walk, half dork the whole way), we weren’t just a little bit late. We were a lot late.
Twenty minutes late, to be exact.
Give or take.
The boys were not happy campers. They greeted us with what could never be mistaken for open arms and welcome hearts. They’d been waiting for quite a while for us, apparently, and were worried our table would be given away.
I apologized for the delay, threw out a weak “But he said it would only take twenty minutes?” and took a few shots. Of them. Because we were in Disneyworld and that’s what I do. Whether the mood calls for it or not. Besides, they looked so cute with their little crossed arms and angry eyes.
The good news is we were seated in short order and given one of the best tables we’d ever had in that restaurant. Front row. Center of the building. We were in B1, baby! Our view was so good, we could practically see up the Lederhosen Five’s noses. Not that we’d want to. But I’m just saying. We probably could. If we were into that kind of thing. Which we're not.
We really enjoy our times at Biergarten and that day was no exception. It’s kind of our place. One of the two places we have to eat every single time we go to Disney or the trip simply is just not complete. And we eat there not so much for the wiener salad but more for the show. The pork with apricot sauce and pretzel bread with Spaceship Earth shaped butter balls. And the songs that have now, like so many other things at Disney, become familiar to us and a part of vacation for us.
Once the Tiki Taki Tiki Taki Oy Oy Oying starts, we involuntarily smile. Because we know we’re there. We're in our place. The one we all four love equally. And that’s saying a lot.
Of course, some of us love it for reasons other than its familiarity and atmosphere.
Some of us love it for the meat. Bread. And butter.
Three guesses who that plate belonged to.
And no, it wasn't me.
We finished up and got to know the other family of four sitting next to us. They were from Essex and were extremely friendly. I loved listening to their accent. It sounded so much like Madonna’s fake one. At one point, one of their beautiful little girls began giggling and watching me. And telling her sister in a very loud, very cute British accent that wasn’t how you say “can”. As she cut her little eyes over to me and giggled some more. It cracked me up and I could’ve just ate her up, she was so cute. So I leaned over and whispered in her ear “Lemme tell you sumthin. That’s not how you say “not” either, sister.” Okay, I didn’t. But only because she wouldn’t have understood me anyway. But I thought about it.
We paid the bill (without laughing because we were really missing Free Dining by this point) and headed out to stroll around the World Showcase and take some pictures along the way.
We ran into these guys....
They were pretty rude, to be honest. No autographs. No small talk. No nothing. Just stone cold silence. So not cool, dude.
Everything was so beautiful. The landscaping. The park. The reflections coming off the water. We’d never been during the Flower and Garden Festival before and I don’t think I’ve ever seen the place looking any prettier.
After a leisurely stroll, we decided to catch a boat back to Future World (something we’d never done before) since we were getting close to our Soarin fastpass time and as we stood around waiting for the boat to slide up to the dock, we were all in such a great mood. We cut up and laughed and in those moments, we were the only family around. Even though we weren’t. I eventually took my camera out and began snapping away. As I watched my husband and our kids goofing off in the foreground of such a beautiful place through the lens of my camera, I clamored to make each shot perfect. Of course I didn’t succeed so I tried again.
And again.
Nowhere else do I take as many pictures as I do when we go on a trip to Disney. Fort Payne may have given Disney a run for their money. Destin comes in at a very close second. But Disney pics always outnumber the ones taken at other destinations. The numbers are astounding. Baffling. Ridiculous, even. And I’ve always explained it away by saying it’s because most of my shots turn out bad. As Chappie will be more than happy to attest to. So it’s necessary for me to take more shots of the same thing with the hopes that at least one of the bunch will turn out decent. And there is truth to that. I know it, I own it. But as I watched my family interact and caught myself trying to catch so much of it on film that day, I realized it may have more to do with the fact that the moments reach out to me more when we’re there. They reach out and grab me. And I just don’t want them to end. So I suppose I take many more pictures than I need to. In an attempt to make it last longer. Because I know that within just a few short days, it’ll be full blown madness once again with the four of us thrown to the four corners of the globe.
Or at least the four corners of the county.
And on nights like these, nights when I’m staring a full work week dead in the face, I can sit in my chair and scroll through a gazillion smiling seven, ten and thirty something year old faces and feel the sun shining on my back and hear the music in the distance peppered by outbursts of my family’s laughter and smell the food wafting on the breeze. On nights like these, I am not simply sitting in my chair in my living room typing out the details of a trip gone by. On nights like these, I’m on vacation once more.
And it’s all worth it. It’s all good.
Even if the only underwater speakers this off property resort has comes from the bump in the neighbor’s low rider pick up truck.
Up Next: Epicot Part II
If you had then told me we would only have one day to experience the park that my husband once described as “the happiest place this side of Heaven” (FOR FREE!) and that we had absolutely no intentions of making rope drop in order to do it, not only would I not have believed you, but I also would’ve whipped you, beaten you, and called you Edna.
And then subjected you to the longest run-on sentence on the face of the planet.
One or the other.
Most likely the run-on sentence thing and not so much the other.
Because that’s just weird.
We woke up the next morning not at the crack of dawn, but more like the crack of nine. Ish. Let it out, NM. Breathe from your diaphragm and just let it out.
Now, under normal circumstances (our crew staying on Disney property and not Universal property), we would be in the position of being able to return to the room for a mid day break and therefore would’ve been up and ready to hit the bus stop at 8:30. With bells on. And plenty of skip in our step. Literally. Cause that’s how we roll. But we weren’t on Disney property. Therefore there would be no bus stops and mid day breaks. No bells. No skipping. Who am I kidding? There’s always skipping. And bells. But once we left, we were there for good. And we knew from past experiences that it wasn’t wise to try and make rope drop and Illuminations all in the same day with no breaks in between. And since there was no way in the world we were gonna miss a FREE showing of Illuminations, we decided to sleep in and head to the park at a leisurely pace that morning. In an effort to preserve our sanity. But mostly our feet. And actually be in the World Showcase when the torches were all blown out by the invisible man instead of in the parking lot. Limping. While carrying two overly tired whiny kids. And wearing our angry eyes.
Not that we’ve ever done that.
Once we were awake, we got up and got dressed pretty fast that morning, as I recall. We were all pretty darn excited to be heading to Epicot. Our Epicot.
Or, as our daughter now calls it, Epcot.
Insert record scratching noise here.
Oh yeah. You read it right.
There wasn’t any cute, familiar, little girl mispronunciation that morning as in days gone by. The girl actually said it right. To my utter shock and dismay. I immediately fell to my knees shouting “Why?! Why must you children torment me this way?! Why must you grow up?!” Except that I didn’t really. I’m not a complete freak. Instead I held it in and corrected her. “No, no, honey. It’s EpIcot. EpIcot. Remember?” She laughed her little seven year old laugh and dismissed my perceived silliness with “Moooo-ooom, no it’s not. It’s Epcot.”
In a tone that sounded much more mature than seven years old.
I screwed my eyes shut where I stood, stuck my fingers in my ears and launched into a rendition of “la la la la la….la la la la la…..not list-ening!”
But only in my head.
We had quite the discussion that morning on the way to the car. There was lots of cutting up and lots of trying to convince the girl that it actually was Epicot. On my part. Lots of ordering her NOT to pronounce it as Epicot. On the boy’s part. And lots of trying to convince the girl that it was actually Six Flags. And that it was closed anyway.
On DH’s part.
As we made our way through the doors of the resort, the girl grabbed my hand and cuddled up to me for a sideways leg hug. She looked up at me, stroked my arm and informed me that although she knew it was Epcot, she would still call it Epicot. For me. Which made me melt into a puddle. Right where I stood. I bent down and made sure she understood that I had just been joking with her and that I was proud that she was now calling it by the correct name because it meant she was growing up to be a fine, intelligent young lady. Then I gave her a hug and told her how much I loved her. As we made our way toward the car, she remarked, “You know I’ll always be your little girl. Even when I’m a grandma.”
I stopped short, gave her a sappy smile and agreed, “Yes. Yes you will”. And then I stole a hug and a kiss from my little girl, who seemed surprisingly wise beyond in her years in that moment.
Which I suppose is not such a bad thing to be.
Then the four of us climbed into the minivan, cranked up some kickin’ Disney Toons and cut a trail to the Happiest Place This Side of Heaven. All giddy and stuff. On our way, we passed underneath these little beauties and I actually got a decent shot this time.
Amazing how fast that Disneyfreude (Disneyschadenfreude?) can set in. Because as soon as we passed the arches, I turned around and took a snap shot of them in the distance. Already dreading the moment we would have to leave.
We pulled into the massive stretch of asphalt known as the Epicot parking lot and were directed to the next available row by a kindly gentleman dressed in fancy Bermuda shorts and a funny hat. We were then directed to the next available parking space by another kindly gentleman dressed in fancy Bermuda shorts and a funny hat. When we got out of the car, we were directed to the direction of the nearest parking tram stop. By yet another gentleman dressed in fancy Bermuda shorts and a funny hat. Within one minute, a tram came by to pick us up. And we were directed into our seats and reminded to keep our arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times. It was at this point that my husband and I began a discussion about how Disney really has their stuff together. We all know how great their rides and attractions are. And we all marvel at how much thought and imagination are put into those. But it’s when the little details hit us, the little details like how organized and together the parking lot routine is, that we realize just how cool Disney actually is. And how much thought and effort they put into making things seem to flow so seamlessly to their guests. And on that morning, it was all working together like a well oiled machine.
Which caused DH to remark out loud “You know, nothing can compare to Disneyworld. They really are on top of their game.” His remark was greeted with a hearty “Here, here!” from a gentleman on the tram sitting just to my left. I thought about asking him if he posted on a Disney message board under the name ZZUB but he actually smelled of something other than rancid ginger and wasn’t carrying an Alabama foam finger around with him. Shoving it in unsuspecting people’s faces. And yelling “ROLL TIDE!” in their ears at the top of his lungs. So I knew it couldn't be him.
Or Mel either. For that matter.
Once we reached the front of the park, we took out our tickets, waved them all around for everyone to see what a quad of FREE (have I mentioned that they were FREE?) passes looked like and then got in line. I was a little anxious because I just had a feeling things would probably NOT go as smoothly at the turnstiles as Miss “Far Removed From the Action and Public Humiliation” Ticket Services had explained over the phone. I was a little gun shy and it all just seemed a little too good to be true.
And you know how that usually goes.
Since the crowds were pretty heavy (Spring Break, remember?), it took us a little while to make our way to the turnstiles. Once we did, I went first. Just like the time I offered to go first during that horrible procedure at the hospital lab in the middle of our MRSA scare. And just as it was on that day, going first was a big mistake. Not so much an “I’m gonna step up to the plate and show the kids having a lab assistant shove a foot long Qtip up my nose and into the recesses of my brain via my nasal passages isn’t scary OR painful as the rest of my family watches in horror at the wrongs being committed against me and my sinuses with what would turn out to be the wrong size Qtip” mistake. More like an “Oh snap, here we go with the public humiliation again” mistake.
So I inserted my Pirate and Princess Party ticket into the Epicot turnstile.
And was flatly denied.
Shocker.
The CM working the turnstile looked at the notification screen on her side and then looked at me. And practically screamed “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! THESE ARE NOT TICKETS TO EPCOT. THESE ARE FOR THE MAGIC KINGDOM. THE MAGIC KINDGOM! YOU’RE IN THE WRONG PLACE! YOU CAN’T USE THESE HERE!”
DH and the kids sidestep it away from me and feign surprise. While DH looks at the lady next to him in line, shrugs his shoulders and points his entire arm at me and wiggles his finger around.
Like I imagine Adam pointed to Eve when they got busted.
I throw back “I AM AWARE!” in my best George Costanza voice.
And then both my husband and I launch into an explanation. Alternately and together. All at the same time. Pirate and Princess Party. Ticket Services. Said they’d be good anywhere. Yada yada yada. Here we stand. With Pirate and Princess party tickets. For Epcot. We’re not dumb, you know.
Once we stopped talking, she told me to try it again. I did. No dice. She then told me to try another ticket. Which we did. No soup for us. I tried once again for good measure and this time jumped up and down and rubbed DH’s belly. While I stood on my head and chunked a penny toward the dancing fountain on the off chance that Wishes didn’t appear exclusively at the Magic Kingdom. Nothing. So before the crowd looking over our shoulders got all East Coast/West Coast on us, the CM shrugged her shoulders and passed the buck. She directed us to Guest Services and told us they might be able to help.
As we walked away, ducking to avoid the eggs and rotten tomatoes flying our way, we couldn’t help but feel a little dejected. What if we didn’t get it worked out? Had we worked ourselves into an Epicot lovin’ frenzy for nothing that morning?
We approached Guest Services and when it was our turn, we stepped up to the plate and explained our sitchashun. I told him I was told by Ticket Services that the passes would be good for any park and asked if there was any way he could help us out. While pushing a cute, dejected child with a long face up to the window. And pinching her so she would cry. Just kidding. Please. What kind of mother do you think I am?
Wait. Don’t answer that.
Mr. Get ‘Er Done got on the horn and reached out and touched somebody. It took a long time. A really long time. Long enough for me to grow out my underarm hair, take to smoking unfiltered cigarettes and jet around the joint on a moped wearing a raspberry beret. If only I’d felt the urge. Once he hung up the phone, he explained that the tickets had only been credited with a return day at the Magic Kingdom. So in reality, it hadn’t been good for any park after all. But Mr. Helpy Helper followed the bad news with some good news by telling us that he would gladly rectify that by cancelling those tickets out and reissuing us four new one day passes for Epicot instead.
FO FREE!!!!
BOOYA BABY!!!
We were in like Flynn!
You should assume there was a lot of smiling and high fiving. Mostly each other, but also strangers too. We were ecstatic and could hardly contain our excitement for the entirety of the twenty three minutes it took for him to cancel out the old cards and reissue four new ones. It really did take a long time. I passed the time by looking around. Complimenting him on his spiffy little plaid vest. Silently wondering if it was gabardine. Wondering what the heck gabardine actually was. Thinking it must be awfully hot under that vest all day. Gabardine or not. Wondering if they still have the cute little Elusive Key Lime Pies at the Seasons counter service place. And making useless small talk when I wasn’t consumed by my own useless random thoughts.
Just because I felt I needed to be nice.
When we finally had our new, FREE tickets in hand, we thanked him profusely and headed right back to the same turnstile. And this time as we slid our tickets into the scanner, there was no shame in our game because those babies slid right through.
Like a hot knife through butta.
Ahhhh yeah. It was ON, baby!
We walked into the place that we love so much and took in the sights and the sounds. Breathed in deeply and felt… like we’d come home. If I were the kind of girl who gets emotional, I may have possibly gotten a little verklempt as we stood there. On the other side of the turnstiles. This trip, like so many others taken at the House of Mouse, had been chock full of good times and blessings too numerous to count. And here was yet another one. We were in awe at the way things continued to fall into place and right then and there, both my husband and I took a moment to thank God for all the blessings He’d sent our way and recount them to each other. And then we paused for the necessary pictures in front of Spaceship Earth, formerly known as “Space Mountain because I said it” to the girl, waved to our mugs on the way into the Granite Garden and squealed with excitement.
Even though the place was crowded and we had gotten to the park well past rope drop, we still weren’t very concerned about our plan for the day because our list was short. We only had three goals that day.
1) Ride Soarin’
2) Take a spin on Test Track
4) Enjoy Illuminations
That was it. Anything else that we just so happened to fall into along the way would be considered gravy.
Well, I forgot one.
7) Track down the Main Mouse
That one was mainly for the girl. She’d been missing Mickey something fierce and we had to work in some face time with the mouse himself for her. So I did some quick thinking and laid out the plan to the family.
That’s right, Ash. Characters. First thing in the morning. How crazy would it drive you to vacation with us?
As the kids and I made a beeline for Epcot’s Character Spot, DH ran across the park to grab fastpasses for Soarin’. As one would expect during Spring Break, the line for the characters was already long by the time we got there. Crazy long. So I asked the attendant how long he thought it would be before we made it around to the characters.
He responded quickly with “Twenty minutes.”
What-EVER!
I knew there was NO WAY that line was only gonna take us twenty minutes to get through. Forty maybe. But twenty? Definitely not. But the girl really wanted to see Mickey and Minnie. DH eventually returned, took one look at the line that wrapped all the way around the building and halfway to China, then threw his hands up in the air and said “This is RIDICULOUS!” At which point, I responded “Twenty minutes?”
And then laughed. Because try as I might, I just couldn’t play that one off.
When DH showed up and pointed out how long the line was, the boy decided he wasn’t down with waiting to see the characters when there was international candy to be had so he took off with his dad for some male bonding time. We synchronized our watches and planned to meet back up at Biergarten in time for our lunch ADR. And then the boys took off to explore the World Showcase at a leisurely pace while the girls explored the confines of a neverending queue. Dirty carpet. And smelly tourists.
While we waited, we struck up a conversation with another mom and her daughter who were doing the same thing we were. Our girls were about the same age and they hit it off really well. Ditto the mom and me. One of the things that I enjoy talking about with other families that we meet in Disney is their accommodations and their opinions about the things that they’ve done so far. I particularly like finding out what they think about the resorts and anytime I meet someone there, that’s one of the first few questions I ask. And so it was that I found out that Mrs. North Carolina and her crew were DVC members and were staying in one of the villas. I can't remember which one it was at this point but I do remember they were happy with their lodging. And then she asked me which resort we were staying in.
“The Royal Pacific”, I said. And then coughed. Ever so slightly.
Complete silence.
You could’ve heard a pin drop. What’s with all the pin dropping anyway? I don’t even know.
I followed it with, “Yeah, it’s not actually on Disney property, per se. More like Universal property? We’re staying at Universal and just came over here for the day. ”
“Oh”, she said.
And that was it. Nothing more.
Just “oh”. Which completely cracked me up. Because I was her. And she was me. Until this trip, that is. And I knew exactly what she was thinking. I think she may have even called me good for nothing non resort rabble. With her eyes.
It struck me so funny I literally had to stifle a laugh and turn my head. Bite my lip and all that jazz. Oh. It's the new “Must suck to be you!”
Right before it was our turn to rub elbows with Mickey, the little girl and our daughter bid each other farewell. Basically, they told each other bye. Then giggled a lot. And swayed. At which point, our daughter’s new “best frand” whispered something in her mother’s ear and with her mom’s blessing, took a pin from her lanyard and gave it to our daughter. It was really sweet and the gesture made our daughter’s day. They hugged and laughed some more. And promised to write and call each other every single day. Kidding. But it just goes to show you that for all the rude people we encounter in Disney, there are still lots of good, kind hearted people out there as well.
We worked our way up to the front and made the rounds with the crew we love so much.
I'm happy to report there wasn't a Captain America in the bunch. Once we finally made it through the line, I checked my watch. And almost hyperventilated at what I saw.
It had taken us roughly an hour to get through the line. And we were late for a very important date.
Now, I had been keeping up with the time while we were going through the line and had already called my husband to tell him we would be running late for our ADR. He had already told the hostess at Biergarten that we were on our way. So things were under control. But by the time we got out of the building, got our butts in gear and made it around to Germany (doing the half run, half walk, half dork the whole way), we weren’t just a little bit late. We were a lot late.
Twenty minutes late, to be exact.
Give or take.
The boys were not happy campers. They greeted us with what could never be mistaken for open arms and welcome hearts. They’d been waiting for quite a while for us, apparently, and were worried our table would be given away.
I apologized for the delay, threw out a weak “But he said it would only take twenty minutes?” and took a few shots. Of them. Because we were in Disneyworld and that’s what I do. Whether the mood calls for it or not. Besides, they looked so cute with their little crossed arms and angry eyes.
The good news is we were seated in short order and given one of the best tables we’d ever had in that restaurant. Front row. Center of the building. We were in B1, baby! Our view was so good, we could practically see up the Lederhosen Five’s noses. Not that we’d want to. But I’m just saying. We probably could. If we were into that kind of thing. Which we're not.
We really enjoy our times at Biergarten and that day was no exception. It’s kind of our place. One of the two places we have to eat every single time we go to Disney or the trip simply is just not complete. And we eat there not so much for the wiener salad but more for the show. The pork with apricot sauce and pretzel bread with Spaceship Earth shaped butter balls. And the songs that have now, like so many other things at Disney, become familiar to us and a part of vacation for us.
Once the Tiki Taki Tiki Taki Oy Oy Oying starts, we involuntarily smile. Because we know we’re there. We're in our place. The one we all four love equally. And that’s saying a lot.
Of course, some of us love it for reasons other than its familiarity and atmosphere.
Some of us love it for the meat. Bread. And butter.
Three guesses who that plate belonged to.
And no, it wasn't me.
We finished up and got to know the other family of four sitting next to us. They were from Essex and were extremely friendly. I loved listening to their accent. It sounded so much like Madonna’s fake one. At one point, one of their beautiful little girls began giggling and watching me. And telling her sister in a very loud, very cute British accent that wasn’t how you say “can”. As she cut her little eyes over to me and giggled some more. It cracked me up and I could’ve just ate her up, she was so cute. So I leaned over and whispered in her ear “Lemme tell you sumthin. That’s not how you say “not” either, sister.” Okay, I didn’t. But only because she wouldn’t have understood me anyway. But I thought about it.
We paid the bill (without laughing because we were really missing Free Dining by this point) and headed out to stroll around the World Showcase and take some pictures along the way.
We ran into these guys....
They were pretty rude, to be honest. No autographs. No small talk. No nothing. Just stone cold silence. So not cool, dude.
Everything was so beautiful. The landscaping. The park. The reflections coming off the water. We’d never been during the Flower and Garden Festival before and I don’t think I’ve ever seen the place looking any prettier.
After a leisurely stroll, we decided to catch a boat back to Future World (something we’d never done before) since we were getting close to our Soarin fastpass time and as we stood around waiting for the boat to slide up to the dock, we were all in such a great mood. We cut up and laughed and in those moments, we were the only family around. Even though we weren’t. I eventually took my camera out and began snapping away. As I watched my husband and our kids goofing off in the foreground of such a beautiful place through the lens of my camera, I clamored to make each shot perfect. Of course I didn’t succeed so I tried again.
And again.
Nowhere else do I take as many pictures as I do when we go on a trip to Disney. Fort Payne may have given Disney a run for their money. Destin comes in at a very close second. But Disney pics always outnumber the ones taken at other destinations. The numbers are astounding. Baffling. Ridiculous, even. And I’ve always explained it away by saying it’s because most of my shots turn out bad. As Chappie will be more than happy to attest to. So it’s necessary for me to take more shots of the same thing with the hopes that at least one of the bunch will turn out decent. And there is truth to that. I know it, I own it. But as I watched my family interact and caught myself trying to catch so much of it on film that day, I realized it may have more to do with the fact that the moments reach out to me more when we’re there. They reach out and grab me. And I just don’t want them to end. So I suppose I take many more pictures than I need to. In an attempt to make it last longer. Because I know that within just a few short days, it’ll be full blown madness once again with the four of us thrown to the four corners of the globe.
Or at least the four corners of the county.
And on nights like these, nights when I’m staring a full work week dead in the face, I can sit in my chair and scroll through a gazillion smiling seven, ten and thirty something year old faces and feel the sun shining on my back and hear the music in the distance peppered by outbursts of my family’s laughter and smell the food wafting on the breeze. On nights like these, I am not simply sitting in my chair in my living room typing out the details of a trip gone by. On nights like these, I’m on vacation once more.
And it’s all worth it. It’s all good.
Even if the only underwater speakers this off property resort has comes from the bump in the neighbor’s low rider pick up truck.
Up Next: Epicot Part II
But really almost all the time their customer service is great and they will do what they tell you they will. I was told some wrong information on the phone and was informed by a manager they gave me the wrong info but he was willing to make it right which I really appreciated. 
). 
