stopgo
Wag more, bark less
- Joined
- Oct 12, 2005
- Messages
- 46
Hi everyone!
This is a long one (first timer, so I figured what I lack in quality I'll make up for in quantity). We're headed back to the World next month but I wanted to kick things off with a re-cap of last year's October trip. It all ties together. Hopefully.
THE CAST
Monica- 27, Practically perfect in every way. Born in NYC and raised in London, she's a woman of the world and is never afraid to express her thoughts (often to my chagrin). A lover of dogs with smooshy faces and shower chanteuse, I love her despite her affinity for the New Yawk Yankees. Has been to WDW and EuroDisney/DLP enough times to know that the weather in Florida is far nicer.
Scott- Me. 32, Traveller, raconteur, skeptic. A former soldier who believes altitude is determined by attitude, single malts are like mother's milk, and that the Cubs will win a World Series in my lifetime (don't laugh!). Has been to WDW quite a few times and Disneyland several twice. Thinks that PotC is pure, unadulterated genius and secretly wishes he was a pirate (
Yargggh!).
[/b]PART I: THE PREFACE (or "Once upon a time...")[/b]
... in October of 2005, it was decided that we needed to get re-Moused (as a very wise man used to say). 2005 had been a rough year for us on many fronts; Monica, as an attractive, young, female with a Type-A personality and seriously good at her job, had learned the hard way that Old White Men In Charge occassionally make for a dismal work life. With some fits and starts and a lot of luck she finally landed her dream job with a fantastic company and left the Dilbert-esque "Bloated Aerospace Corporation". I, having been on the road for what seemed an eternity, felt a strong need to reconnect with my beloved.
I also had something big in mind. Something HUGE!
So, many phone calls were made (and I mean "Many" phone calls. With a capital "M" for "Make up your mind, Scott!") and many guide books were perused until, one day, there was a joyous sound in the StopGo house. We had reservations! And plane tickets! And a credit card with a zero dollar balance!!! Oh, friends, how quickly that last statement was about to change. I'm surprised that the Feds didn't arrest us for the abuse we heaped on that poor, defenseless credit card.
We decided to stay at the AKL, having only eaten there in the past. I used my DVC points (which were a gift to me, from me, when I got out of the military) to secure a perfectly located savannah-view room. Now, I'm a WL kind of guy. Positively love the WL. "WL! WL! WL!" I like to say, even when it confuses the people I'm talking to about things like "budget projections" and "contract requirements". The AKL is truly the WL's little brother (or sister... depending on your point-of-view). They're both "lodges", though you're unlikely to find older folks wearing funny hats a la The Elks, Moose or Masons... those are a different kind of lodge entirely. We looked forward to waking up to the calls of exotic animals and easy access to Boma.
Monica's parents had recently retired and were in the process of moving back to the States after a 17 year hiatus in England. Their household goods were packed up and placed on a ship sometime in June and they immediately took off on an extended tour of Europe. This was to be the geriatric version of backpacking through the Motherland(s), with stops throughout eastern Europe and the Mediteranean. At some point they called from Estonia which was auspicious as I was beginning to get nervous...
Wait... Let me back up a bit. Monica and I aren't married. Some might say we're living in sin; I say we're living happily ever after
. We've been together for a little more than four years now and I decided a long time ago that she's The One. She's smart, she's funny, she's beautiful and she has very poor taste in men. All of which adds up to a perfect Spouse Potential Score (SPS) on the Gruber-Reynolds Compatibility Matrix. (Before you go googling for that let me warn you: I made it up). With a respectably long courtship under our belts I decided it was time to address the most daunting task any male can undertake: I went ring shopping.
Whoo boy! Fellas, raise your hands if this little "tradition" made you feel like Forrest Gump addressing a convention of Quantum Physics PhD candidates! "Oh, it's easy," my female friends told me, "You just have to learn about the four C's." For the uninitiated, the 4 C's relate to the primary characteristics of a diamond which, together, are indicative of its overall quality. In order of importance they are: Confusion, Coercion, Credit Check and, after seeing the invoice, Cardiac Arrest. According to international law you are allowed to select a diamond which rates "Average" in only one of those categories. In all other categories the diamond must score "Above Average" or (preferably) "Perfect". Obviously, the price of the diamond will be affected to your detriment as you are coerced (the second "C") by the salesperson into selecting a better diamond. Much of the coercion is predicated on your overall confusion (the first "C") about the entire process. The primary rule of thumb, though, and the most important factor in selecting a diamond engagement ring is this: What you are prohibited from doing is selecting a diamond that has a low Girlfriend Jealousy Quotient (GJQ). The GJQ attempts to assess the reactions of your fiancee's girlfriends in order to determine whether or not you, as her prospective husband, are worthy of the honor. A low GJQ score will draw scorn from your fiancee's girlfriends which will, in turn, draw much ire from your fiancee. Conversely, a high GJQ will inspire your fiancee's girlfriends to regard you as the real-life equivalent of a George Clooney/Bill Gates/Dali Lama hybrid; sexy, rich and wise.
Where were we? Oh, yes! Monica's parents called from Estonia (not a terribly common occurrence in our house) and I'm grateful because big doin's are about to transpire and I have GOT to speak to Monica's dad. After chatting for a few minutes I asked Almost-MIL to put me on the phone with Almost-FIL because I have something important to ask him. "Robert" (let's call him "Robert" because...well.. that's his name) gets on the line and I immediately launch into my poignant, touching and heartfelt speech which I'd prepared, edited, re-edited and jotted down in outline form on 3x5 notecards. Aiming for an eloquent delivery with just a touch of whimsy, I ended up a little closer to sounding like a mouthbreathing telemarkter reading from a script. Trying to speed things up to save us both some pain I concluded with, "... Robert, I'd like to ask Monica to marry me and it would mean a lot if I had your blessing." Robert pauses for a beat and then says, "Well... um... ahh.... let's see. Let me think about this... hmmmm...."
*click*
The line goes dead.
Let me say that again in case you were distracted by the television: I've just asked Monica's father for his blessing in asking for Monica's hand in marriage AND HE HUNG UP ON ME!!
Fortunately, I was at home at the time so I could stutter and choke to my heart's content without fear of embarassment. Unfortunately, the cable guy was with me to look into a problem with our signal. He looked at me strangely and I quickly filled him in on the details. A broad grin spread across his face and he finally said, with no hint of malice, "You're screwed."
Well, as luck would have it the phone rang not two minutes later. It was Robert and he shouted "Yes! Yes! Before I say anything else the answer is 'Yes'!" It seems that he was having a little fun at my expense and during his clever little joke he accidentally hung up on me. Whatever. See how agreeable I am to naming my first son after you, Robert! Evil, evil man.
So now that I had parental approval, a ring, airline tickets and hotel reservations it was time to head to Mickey's house and initiate phase two...
This is a long one (first timer, so I figured what I lack in quality I'll make up for in quantity). We're headed back to the World next month but I wanted to kick things off with a re-cap of last year's October trip. It all ties together. Hopefully.
THE CAST
Monica- 27, Practically perfect in every way. Born in NYC and raised in London, she's a woman of the world and is never afraid to express her thoughts (often to my chagrin). A lover of dogs with smooshy faces and shower chanteuse, I love her despite her affinity for the New Yawk Yankees. Has been to WDW and EuroDisney/DLP enough times to know that the weather in Florida is far nicer.
Scott- Me. 32, Traveller, raconteur, skeptic. A former soldier who believes altitude is determined by attitude, single malts are like mother's milk, and that the Cubs will win a World Series in my lifetime (don't laugh!). Has been to WDW quite a few times and Disneyland several twice. Thinks that PotC is pure, unadulterated genius and secretly wishes he was a pirate (
Yargggh!).[/b]PART I: THE PREFACE (or "Once upon a time...")[/b]
... in October of 2005, it was decided that we needed to get re-Moused (as a very wise man used to say). 2005 had been a rough year for us on many fronts; Monica, as an attractive, young, female with a Type-A personality and seriously good at her job, had learned the hard way that Old White Men In Charge occassionally make for a dismal work life. With some fits and starts and a lot of luck she finally landed her dream job with a fantastic company and left the Dilbert-esque "Bloated Aerospace Corporation". I, having been on the road for what seemed an eternity, felt a strong need to reconnect with my beloved.
I also had something big in mind. Something HUGE!
So, many phone calls were made (and I mean "Many" phone calls. With a capital "M" for "Make up your mind, Scott!") and many guide books were perused until, one day, there was a joyous sound in the StopGo house. We had reservations! And plane tickets! And a credit card with a zero dollar balance!!! Oh, friends, how quickly that last statement was about to change. I'm surprised that the Feds didn't arrest us for the abuse we heaped on that poor, defenseless credit card.
We decided to stay at the AKL, having only eaten there in the past. I used my DVC points (which were a gift to me, from me, when I got out of the military) to secure a perfectly located savannah-view room. Now, I'm a WL kind of guy. Positively love the WL. "WL! WL! WL!" I like to say, even when it confuses the people I'm talking to about things like "budget projections" and "contract requirements". The AKL is truly the WL's little brother (or sister... depending on your point-of-view). They're both "lodges", though you're unlikely to find older folks wearing funny hats a la The Elks, Moose or Masons... those are a different kind of lodge entirely. We looked forward to waking up to the calls of exotic animals and easy access to Boma.
Monica's parents had recently retired and were in the process of moving back to the States after a 17 year hiatus in England. Their household goods were packed up and placed on a ship sometime in June and they immediately took off on an extended tour of Europe. This was to be the geriatric version of backpacking through the Motherland(s), with stops throughout eastern Europe and the Mediteranean. At some point they called from Estonia which was auspicious as I was beginning to get nervous...
Wait... Let me back up a bit. Monica and I aren't married. Some might say we're living in sin; I say we're living happily ever after
. We've been together for a little more than four years now and I decided a long time ago that she's The One. She's smart, she's funny, she's beautiful and she has very poor taste in men. All of which adds up to a perfect Spouse Potential Score (SPS) on the Gruber-Reynolds Compatibility Matrix. (Before you go googling for that let me warn you: I made it up). With a respectably long courtship under our belts I decided it was time to address the most daunting task any male can undertake: I went ring shopping. Whoo boy! Fellas, raise your hands if this little "tradition" made you feel like Forrest Gump addressing a convention of Quantum Physics PhD candidates! "Oh, it's easy," my female friends told me, "You just have to learn about the four C's." For the uninitiated, the 4 C's relate to the primary characteristics of a diamond which, together, are indicative of its overall quality. In order of importance they are: Confusion, Coercion, Credit Check and, after seeing the invoice, Cardiac Arrest. According to international law you are allowed to select a diamond which rates "Average" in only one of those categories. In all other categories the diamond must score "Above Average" or (preferably) "Perfect". Obviously, the price of the diamond will be affected to your detriment as you are coerced (the second "C") by the salesperson into selecting a better diamond. Much of the coercion is predicated on your overall confusion (the first "C") about the entire process. The primary rule of thumb, though, and the most important factor in selecting a diamond engagement ring is this: What you are prohibited from doing is selecting a diamond that has a low Girlfriend Jealousy Quotient (GJQ). The GJQ attempts to assess the reactions of your fiancee's girlfriends in order to determine whether or not you, as her prospective husband, are worthy of the honor. A low GJQ score will draw scorn from your fiancee's girlfriends which will, in turn, draw much ire from your fiancee. Conversely, a high GJQ will inspire your fiancee's girlfriends to regard you as the real-life equivalent of a George Clooney/Bill Gates/Dali Lama hybrid; sexy, rich and wise.
Where were we? Oh, yes! Monica's parents called from Estonia (not a terribly common occurrence in our house) and I'm grateful because big doin's are about to transpire and I have GOT to speak to Monica's dad. After chatting for a few minutes I asked Almost-MIL to put me on the phone with Almost-FIL because I have something important to ask him. "Robert" (let's call him "Robert" because...well.. that's his name) gets on the line and I immediately launch into my poignant, touching and heartfelt speech which I'd prepared, edited, re-edited and jotted down in outline form on 3x5 notecards. Aiming for an eloquent delivery with just a touch of whimsy, I ended up a little closer to sounding like a mouthbreathing telemarkter reading from a script. Trying to speed things up to save us both some pain I concluded with, "... Robert, I'd like to ask Monica to marry me and it would mean a lot if I had your blessing." Robert pauses for a beat and then says, "Well... um... ahh.... let's see. Let me think about this... hmmmm...."
*click*
The line goes dead.
Let me say that again in case you were distracted by the television: I've just asked Monica's father for his blessing in asking for Monica's hand in marriage AND HE HUNG UP ON ME!!
Fortunately, I was at home at the time so I could stutter and choke to my heart's content without fear of embarassment. Unfortunately, the cable guy was with me to look into a problem with our signal. He looked at me strangely and I quickly filled him in on the details. A broad grin spread across his face and he finally said, with no hint of malice, "You're screwed."
Well, as luck would have it the phone rang not two minutes later. It was Robert and he shouted "Yes! Yes! Before I say anything else the answer is 'Yes'!" It seems that he was having a little fun at my expense and during his clever little joke he accidentally hung up on me. Whatever. See how agreeable I am to naming my first son after you, Robert! Evil, evil man.
So now that I had parental approval, a ring, airline tickets and hotel reservations it was time to head to Mickey's house and initiate phase two...
