SparkyC
Earning My Ears
- Joined
- Feb 20, 2003
- Messages
- 67
Caroline 1, Flu 0. I can breathe again, and was even out of bed all day today. So, on with the trip report. Sorry this is so long.
Cast of Characters:
Me, SparkyC. I'm also known as Caroline or C.
DBF, LP, LOmL, GGG, AC... OK, I will back up---the run-on list of acronyms would be the darling boyfriend, life partner, love of my life, generally great guy, and amazing cyclist, Keith. Also known as Sockboy or Sparky.
Day One Part One: Travelling, or "Wow. It smells like Orlando"
Well, I warn that this may be long, but I so want to document this wonderful trip, and so here we go: When we last left our intrepid couple, they were running willy-nilly about the local Target (who am I kidding, it's 45 minutes away, I live in a town with less people than my high school had students!) picking up all those last minute vacation items. Bathing suits, check, hand gel, check, high test tranquilizer prescription, CHECK!, and so on, and so on, and so on. Now, mind you, when I look back at this evening, I am truly viewing it through rose colored glasses. The picture of DBF and I skipping merrily through Target, with visions of utter utopian Disney vacation bliss on our minds, is what comes to mind. In reality, things were a bit more grim. While we were truly holding hands and I even do recall skipping, my throat was scratchy, I felt achy, and I had been running a low grade fever all day. I was trying to keep what one might call a calm Buddhist state of mind about this, but in reality, I was having moments of pure, distilled panic. (See, on my last Disney vacation in 1999, I went from being soaked on the Kali River Rapids, to an hour later being in bed at the CSR with a raging high 102-103 degree fever. With a little help I'm sure from my guardian angels, I was well enough by the next afternoon to start going to the parks, but I wasn't myself and had to take it slow. The fever came back just in time to fly back to MA. I'll never forget the terrible feeling of aching with a fever, and on one handing desperately wanting to be at home in bed, while on the other hand, so desperately wanting to be enjoying Disney at its best.)
So, back to Target. With Old Faithful like regularity, I turn into a blubbering mess once an hour, becoming teary eyed at the thought of being sick, feverish, and exhausted on our first vacation together, a vacation which is more of a dream come true then I could possibly ever express to you. Rather then worrying or stressing himself, DBF calms me, perfectly, each and every time and makes me believe that everything truly is going to be ok.
We return home, and begin packing our suitcases. This is when the little "Caroline's Mom" on one shoulder, who feels that packing must be executed both as geometrically and as angrily as possible, begins arguing with the little me on the other shoulder who says "WOO HOO! We're going on vacation! Pack stuff. If you forget it, that's just another reason why God made retail in Florida." Some inner tension ensues (to add to the inner panic of having a low grade fever and feeling exhausted and sick-ish.) Said tension is relieved by DBF's amusement at my pulling roughly 7,428 t-shirts from my closet, putting them on my bed, staring at them, and proclaiming that I should probably bring all of them because I'm not sure which one will feel best down in Florida. (Mind you, the man is gathering items and packing with the calm precision of some sort of Zen master of suitcase.) DBF guides me through the rest of this process, and before I know it, and one high-test tranquilizer pill later, I am sound asleep in the comfy bed.
Oh, yes, this would be a convenient time to explain about the high-test tranquilizers. No, it's not a hobby. It's all about the flying. While I like to think of myself as a somewhat adventurous kind of girl, I am scared to death of flying. Let me repeat this in case you did not hear the first time. OHGODIAMSCAREDTOFLY. OK. You get the idea. It's not the motion, it's not claustrophobia: it's the idea that this plane could fall out of the sky and what those few minutes would feel like that gets me. Let me put it into perspective. Following the 1999 Disney trip flight home, my dear older brother, the veteran, and police lieutenant, the detective who has dealt with killers and witnessed autopsies and not even cringed, this dear brother, sat me in a chair, retrieved my luggage for me, put his hand firmly on my shoulder, looked me in my eye and said. "I Never. Will fly. With you. Again." And that, ladies and gentleman, was after I took 4. Yes 4. Tranquilizer pills. Some brief background for you. But back to 2003.
We wake the next morning (far, far, far too early) and I already have happy vacation surprises. First, I have slept through the night. No nightmares, no waking up to think about how frightening the flight will be. Second, I feel good. No sore throat. No fever. I still feel extra tired, but things are looking up. After a fast shower the last minute chaos, and a goodbye to Twinkie the disgruntled 20 plus pound housecat, we are on our way. DBF's Mom and Dad have kindly offered to drive us to Bradley International Airport in Hartford. They pick us up at the house, we hit the road, and in an hour or so, we are at BDL. DBF and I are now beginning to wake up, and the reality is sinking in. We are some excited campers. The luggage is out of the trunk, and we exchange goodbyes with Mom and Dad. DBF's Mom and Dad have been, in the time that we've been together, like another family to me. They have helped us both through a few challenges with a grace that I cannot even describe. Outside the airport DBF's Mom's presence alone calms me and takes away even more of the fear about the flight. She hugs us goodbye and sends us off with wishes for our vacation. I look at DBF, and I see her in him, and we head into the airport terminal taking our first steps on our first vacation as a couple. The Magic has started already.
Next stop is the Southwest counter. DBF works on getting our boarding passes, while I stand with our luggage as is opened and inspected. I am surprised by how professional and out-and-out nice the security personnel doing this inspection are. Again, I'm feeling better about flying. As if that weren't enough, the woman inspecting my bag gushes with compliments about how "expertly packed" the bag is. Everything in clear Zip Lock bags, oh my! Bag of pajamas, bag of undies, bag of this and that. I beam, and thank her. "Oh. Well, I tried..." I say. And I look at DBF, who's work, needless to say, this is.
From there, we stop in at the newsstand to pick up magazines. Both a simple pleasure, magazines for vacation, and a good distraction for me. I wish I could say more of what happened next, but here's the thing folks: I've already had a high-test tranquilizer (popped one right down with my Winnie the Pooh juice box, I did!) I have not a clue. I am a happy, happy girl. Vague memories of chatting with DBF in the waiting area, happily people watching (sport of kings!) Vague memories of a short wait. Vague memories of boarding with the B group, joking with another woman in line that "we didn't really want to be in that stuck-up A group anyway." Vague memories of the cold sky walk. Vague memories of sizing up the pilot to see if he looked like a smart enough stand up type of guy to fly this plane, my plane.
We chose seats, right in front of the wing, and I surprise myself by asking DBF to sit by the window. I settle in. This is usually the absolute worst part for me, on the plane, waiting to take off. But I am surprising myself a lot, I am a little on edge, but it's not terrible. Everything goes with choreographed precision. We board, we push back from the gate, we are first in line for take off. The engines whirr, and before I know it, we are high above Hartford, then New York. I get nervous here or there, but DBF gets it. He seemed to know what to say and not to. Noises scare me, the plane banking scares me, he explains the function behind every concern. Who knows. Maybe he made it all up. But it worked. 3 mostly-smooth hours and one DVD (Sweet Home Alabama. The title is about as much as I remember. High-Test Tranquilizers!) Later, we are making our final approach to MCO. Oh, how I love these three letters. MCO. Our pilot executes the most amazing landing DBF or I have ever experienced. We could not feel a thing. One minute airborne, the next, rolled to a stop. When did we make contact with the ground??? The whole plane seems to marvel together, and we all clap. The excitement is palpable.
On to MCO baggage claim, and some more vague memories. Lunch at Burger King (a week later, I spent something like 15 minutes driving myself batty trying to figure out what in the heck I ate there?I was both excited and out of it.) A goofy spin around the airport Body Shop to buy wonderful coconut citrus scented massage oil (DBF really enjoyed that little excursion and seems to consistently bring it up as a highlighted vacation memory. I can't imagine why?) We decide it's time for a rental car, and as we walk by the empty L&M counter, the manager calls out to us. He quotes the rate, DBF is highly intrigued, I am skeptical (never heard of them.) The deal is done.
Finally, we step out of the sliding glass doors into Orlando-ness. Mind you, I have nearly forgotten where we are. It all hits us at once. The warm 70 plus degree humid air. The sight of palm trees. This, I say to DBF, THIS, smells like Orlando. 10 minutes later, we are loading our luggage into a very new Nissan at a very low rate. For Titusville we are bound, a happier couple not to be found anywhere in the world.
Titusville is on Florida's space coast, and this is where DBF's Aunt and Uncle have built their new and beautiful home. We chat, and head off to dinner at a huge local seafood restaurant. I wish I could remember the name. I feel like I was in a daze, and remember the night as if it were an elaborate dream sequence from a movie. Not from the high test tranquilizers, but from the feeling of being here in the perfect place with at last, the perfect person. After a huge plate of fried shrimp for me and rock shrimp for DBF, we settle in for the night at the local Ramada. (Ok, so Aunt and Uncle's house is new. So new, they have moved naught but the velvet painting of Elvis and a model plane (long story) , so they kindly grabbed a room for us at the hotel.)
And there we leave our blissful travelers for the night.
Cast of Characters:
Me, SparkyC. I'm also known as Caroline or C.
DBF, LP, LOmL, GGG, AC... OK, I will back up---the run-on list of acronyms would be the darling boyfriend, life partner, love of my life, generally great guy, and amazing cyclist, Keith. Also known as Sockboy or Sparky.
Day One Part One: Travelling, or "Wow. It smells like Orlando"
Well, I warn that this may be long, but I so want to document this wonderful trip, and so here we go: When we last left our intrepid couple, they were running willy-nilly about the local Target (who am I kidding, it's 45 minutes away, I live in a town with less people than my high school had students!) picking up all those last minute vacation items. Bathing suits, check, hand gel, check, high test tranquilizer prescription, CHECK!, and so on, and so on, and so on. Now, mind you, when I look back at this evening, I am truly viewing it through rose colored glasses. The picture of DBF and I skipping merrily through Target, with visions of utter utopian Disney vacation bliss on our minds, is what comes to mind. In reality, things were a bit more grim. While we were truly holding hands and I even do recall skipping, my throat was scratchy, I felt achy, and I had been running a low grade fever all day. I was trying to keep what one might call a calm Buddhist state of mind about this, but in reality, I was having moments of pure, distilled panic. (See, on my last Disney vacation in 1999, I went from being soaked on the Kali River Rapids, to an hour later being in bed at the CSR with a raging high 102-103 degree fever. With a little help I'm sure from my guardian angels, I was well enough by the next afternoon to start going to the parks, but I wasn't myself and had to take it slow. The fever came back just in time to fly back to MA. I'll never forget the terrible feeling of aching with a fever, and on one handing desperately wanting to be at home in bed, while on the other hand, so desperately wanting to be enjoying Disney at its best.)
So, back to Target. With Old Faithful like regularity, I turn into a blubbering mess once an hour, becoming teary eyed at the thought of being sick, feverish, and exhausted on our first vacation together, a vacation which is more of a dream come true then I could possibly ever express to you. Rather then worrying or stressing himself, DBF calms me, perfectly, each and every time and makes me believe that everything truly is going to be ok.
We return home, and begin packing our suitcases. This is when the little "Caroline's Mom" on one shoulder, who feels that packing must be executed both as geometrically and as angrily as possible, begins arguing with the little me on the other shoulder who says "WOO HOO! We're going on vacation! Pack stuff. If you forget it, that's just another reason why God made retail in Florida." Some inner tension ensues (to add to the inner panic of having a low grade fever and feeling exhausted and sick-ish.) Said tension is relieved by DBF's amusement at my pulling roughly 7,428 t-shirts from my closet, putting them on my bed, staring at them, and proclaiming that I should probably bring all of them because I'm not sure which one will feel best down in Florida. (Mind you, the man is gathering items and packing with the calm precision of some sort of Zen master of suitcase.) DBF guides me through the rest of this process, and before I know it, and one high-test tranquilizer pill later, I am sound asleep in the comfy bed.
Oh, yes, this would be a convenient time to explain about the high-test tranquilizers. No, it's not a hobby. It's all about the flying. While I like to think of myself as a somewhat adventurous kind of girl, I am scared to death of flying. Let me repeat this in case you did not hear the first time. OHGODIAMSCAREDTOFLY. OK. You get the idea. It's not the motion, it's not claustrophobia: it's the idea that this plane could fall out of the sky and what those few minutes would feel like that gets me. Let me put it into perspective. Following the 1999 Disney trip flight home, my dear older brother, the veteran, and police lieutenant, the detective who has dealt with killers and witnessed autopsies and not even cringed, this dear brother, sat me in a chair, retrieved my luggage for me, put his hand firmly on my shoulder, looked me in my eye and said. "I Never. Will fly. With you. Again." And that, ladies and gentleman, was after I took 4. Yes 4. Tranquilizer pills. Some brief background for you. But back to 2003.
We wake the next morning (far, far, far too early) and I already have happy vacation surprises. First, I have slept through the night. No nightmares, no waking up to think about how frightening the flight will be. Second, I feel good. No sore throat. No fever. I still feel extra tired, but things are looking up. After a fast shower the last minute chaos, and a goodbye to Twinkie the disgruntled 20 plus pound housecat, we are on our way. DBF's Mom and Dad have kindly offered to drive us to Bradley International Airport in Hartford. They pick us up at the house, we hit the road, and in an hour or so, we are at BDL. DBF and I are now beginning to wake up, and the reality is sinking in. We are some excited campers. The luggage is out of the trunk, and we exchange goodbyes with Mom and Dad. DBF's Mom and Dad have been, in the time that we've been together, like another family to me. They have helped us both through a few challenges with a grace that I cannot even describe. Outside the airport DBF's Mom's presence alone calms me and takes away even more of the fear about the flight. She hugs us goodbye and sends us off with wishes for our vacation. I look at DBF, and I see her in him, and we head into the airport terminal taking our first steps on our first vacation as a couple. The Magic has started already.
Next stop is the Southwest counter. DBF works on getting our boarding passes, while I stand with our luggage as is opened and inspected. I am surprised by how professional and out-and-out nice the security personnel doing this inspection are. Again, I'm feeling better about flying. As if that weren't enough, the woman inspecting my bag gushes with compliments about how "expertly packed" the bag is. Everything in clear Zip Lock bags, oh my! Bag of pajamas, bag of undies, bag of this and that. I beam, and thank her. "Oh. Well, I tried..." I say. And I look at DBF, who's work, needless to say, this is.
From there, we stop in at the newsstand to pick up magazines. Both a simple pleasure, magazines for vacation, and a good distraction for me. I wish I could say more of what happened next, but here's the thing folks: I've already had a high-test tranquilizer (popped one right down with my Winnie the Pooh juice box, I did!) I have not a clue. I am a happy, happy girl. Vague memories of chatting with DBF in the waiting area, happily people watching (sport of kings!) Vague memories of a short wait. Vague memories of boarding with the B group, joking with another woman in line that "we didn't really want to be in that stuck-up A group anyway." Vague memories of the cold sky walk. Vague memories of sizing up the pilot to see if he looked like a smart enough stand up type of guy to fly this plane, my plane.
We chose seats, right in front of the wing, and I surprise myself by asking DBF to sit by the window. I settle in. This is usually the absolute worst part for me, on the plane, waiting to take off. But I am surprising myself a lot, I am a little on edge, but it's not terrible. Everything goes with choreographed precision. We board, we push back from the gate, we are first in line for take off. The engines whirr, and before I know it, we are high above Hartford, then New York. I get nervous here or there, but DBF gets it. He seemed to know what to say and not to. Noises scare me, the plane banking scares me, he explains the function behind every concern. Who knows. Maybe he made it all up. But it worked. 3 mostly-smooth hours and one DVD (Sweet Home Alabama. The title is about as much as I remember. High-Test Tranquilizers!) Later, we are making our final approach to MCO. Oh, how I love these three letters. MCO. Our pilot executes the most amazing landing DBF or I have ever experienced. We could not feel a thing. One minute airborne, the next, rolled to a stop. When did we make contact with the ground??? The whole plane seems to marvel together, and we all clap. The excitement is palpable.
On to MCO baggage claim, and some more vague memories. Lunch at Burger King (a week later, I spent something like 15 minutes driving myself batty trying to figure out what in the heck I ate there?I was both excited and out of it.) A goofy spin around the airport Body Shop to buy wonderful coconut citrus scented massage oil (DBF really enjoyed that little excursion and seems to consistently bring it up as a highlighted vacation memory. I can't imagine why?) We decide it's time for a rental car, and as we walk by the empty L&M counter, the manager calls out to us. He quotes the rate, DBF is highly intrigued, I am skeptical (never heard of them.) The deal is done.
Finally, we step out of the sliding glass doors into Orlando-ness. Mind you, I have nearly forgotten where we are. It all hits us at once. The warm 70 plus degree humid air. The sight of palm trees. This, I say to DBF, THIS, smells like Orlando. 10 minutes later, we are loading our luggage into a very new Nissan at a very low rate. For Titusville we are bound, a happier couple not to be found anywhere in the world.
Titusville is on Florida's space coast, and this is where DBF's Aunt and Uncle have built their new and beautiful home. We chat, and head off to dinner at a huge local seafood restaurant. I wish I could remember the name. I feel like I was in a daze, and remember the night as if it were an elaborate dream sequence from a movie. Not from the high test tranquilizers, but from the feeling of being here in the perfect place with at last, the perfect person. After a huge plate of fried shrimp for me and rock shrimp for DBF, we settle in for the night at the local Ramada. (Ok, so Aunt and Uncle's house is new. So new, they have moved naught but the velvet painting of Elvis and a model plane (long story) , so they kindly grabbed a room for us at the hotel.)
And there we leave our blissful travelers for the night.
