Chapter Three: The Opposite (Part Two)
3:55
The red numbers were at first fuzzy and then more clear. I stared at the clock. 3:55. 3:55. Right on schedule.
I’m a human alarm clock. With all due respect to Cosmo Kramer, I actually
can will myself to wake up pretty close to the time I need to be awake. I set the alarm clock only because I'm neurotic. And absolutely certain the one time I don't set it my own clock will fail me.
I stared at the clock for a few minutes and then wrestled it to the floor to make sure the alarm didn’t go off. When my 5 year old was a 3 year old she did something to the clock. Hit it with a block or spilled milk on it. I don’t know. But the two button combination I have to depress to shut off the alarm is always a challenge. In other words, I frequently slam the top of the alarm clock with a ham fist. Which defeats the purpose of shutting it off before it wakes anyone else.
Either my wife was already awake or my violent assault on the alarm clock arrested her from her otherwise restful sleep. But she was up now too. I whispered, "we're going to Disney World!" She whispered, "Crest. Use it."
We crept around in the dark. Doing everything to be as quiet as possible so the girls would stay asleep. I tried to rouse the Schpup! but he would have none of it.
“No! I’m not
weady to wake up yet. It’s too
ewwy. Come back
water.”
Eventually, it was time to wake up ZZUBY. We both went into her room and told her it was time to get up. Someone shouted, “We’re going to Disney World!” It may have been me.
Schpupin J. finally deigned to visit the backyard to take care of his morning duties. And doodies.
We finished getting ready and headed out for the airport.
“Everybody say goodbye house.”
“Everybody say goodbye Schpup!”
From the backseat, “Poor Schpup!”
It would seem all of the things I had worried about were worried about in vain. We had no problems getting all our luggage into the airport, no trouble checking in. No problem going through security and our first flight was uneventful. We had a layover in Salt Lake and when we got off the plane, we split up. My wife took the girls and headed to the bathroom. I went to buy food to eat on the next flight. We met up at the gate. When I got there, my wife took the baby and headed to change her dipper. I hung out with ZZUBY and waited.
“Where’s my Coconut?” she asked.
“I don’t know, Honey. Is he in the stroller?”
Coconut is a stuffed dog I bought for her on a business trip 3 years ago. She loves him very much. Last year she got one exactly like him named, oddly enough, Coconut 2. But she knows which is which. Because she has a collar on Coconut.
I looked through the bottom of the stroller but didn’t see him anywhere. Then I figured he was in my wife’s dipper bag. I tried calling her. But her phone was off.
As usual.
I don’t know why she even has a cell phone. She might as well carry a package of Swiss Cake Rolls. THAT would be more useful to me.
So I stood there. Like an idiot. I kept looking towards the bathroom, trying to will her to come out more quickly.
Have you ever waited for someone to come out of a bathroom?
Meanwhile, I was getting harassed with this: “We’d like to offer pre-boarding for our Platinum Level and Medallion Level Frequent Fliers, our First Class passengers and anyone traveling with small children.”
We were traveling with a carry-on bag that’s about the size of Gary Coleman. It’s chock full of plane snacks, activities for ZZUBY, a camcorder, a camera, stuff to keep ZZUB busy and our emergency clothes in case Magic Express isn’t so magical. We need an overhead bin to store it in.
That’s the advantage to traveling with small children. Early boarding. Easy stowage of your crap. Get on late and you're having to fight the people 8 rows in front of you who, for reasons I'll never understand, put their carry on bags in your overhead bin. It's
your bin!
ZZUBY was growing more upset about Coconut. I told her I’d check with Mamma and if she didn’t have it, we’d try to figure something out. My wife showed up about that time and I asked her if she had Coconut. She didn’t.
“We’re now boarding Zone 1 and 2.”
My wife and I discussed when the last time was either of us saw Coconut. My wife ran back to the bathroom to see if he was there. I went up to the gate agent to inquire whether she could call back to our last gate to see if my daughter’s toy dog was back there. Without explanation, she told me she couldn't contact them. I walked back to find my wife.
“We’re now boarding Zones 1 -5”
At that point it didn't matter which Zone we were in. Zone 5. Zone 6. Twilight Zone. The Red Zone. We could be on a highway to the Danger Zone. It just didn't matter.
My wife got back and said it wasn’t in the bathroom. I asked the gate agent how long we had before they would close the door.
“Fifteen minutes.”
I gave my wife the boarding passes and I took off for the gate we connected through. I ran. (No Offense Flock of Seagulls) I literally ran. Ever seen someone actually run through an airport? Neither had I. But fortunately for me, people got out of my way. Either it was the shock of this soon-to-be-middle aged dude coming at them at a surprisingly fast clip or it was the shock of actually seeing someone running through an airport, but people moved. I found our gate and asked the man sitting there if anyone had turned in a small, stuffed dog.
He stared at me as if I just asked him whether the vegetable lasagna had meat in it.
I repeated my question, more slowly and MORE LOUDLY. In case he didn’t speak English. He told me "no." I asked him if someone could check the plane. And I explained the importance of this particular stuffed animal. He failed to grasp the urgency.
“Look, my flight is leaving in now 10 minutes. I’d like to not miss my connection. Do you think you could move a little quicker?!”
He got on his walkie talkie and called the plane. No answer. Then he called the plane next to it.
I don’t know why either.
Eventually, he got someone on the plane and they confirmed there was no toy there.
I thanked him for mutton and ran back to our departing gate.
As I rounded the corner I saw only my wife and daughters. And our stroller. The entire gate house was empty. My daughter’s hopeful gaze turned despondent again when she didn’t see her Coconut in my hands. The look on her face broke my heart. I told her we’d buy her so much stuff in Disney World she’d forget all about Coconut.
But that didn’t mollify her. She knew I’d buy her a bunch of stuff in Disney World anyway. And Coconut couldn’t be replaced.
We made our way to the gate agent and handed her our boarding passes. She asked if I found the dog.
“Yes, I found him. But in order to teach my five year old responsibility, I threw him away. That’s why she’s crying.”
I didn’t actually say that, but I would have been justified if I had. Her question was stupid. My daughter was wailing like a banshee. And I was sweaty.
“No. They couldn’t find it,” I said. We walked down the long jetway and boarded the plane. The flight attendant asked why ZZUBY was crying. I told her she lost her favorite stuffed animal, and in my nervous attempts at humor said, “And we’re going to Disney World and they don’t have any stuffed animals there to buy.” The flight attendant laughed. But the nosy passenger seated in the first row didn't. The flight attendant asked ZZUBY if she wanted to go to the cockpit.
My wife handed the baby to me and took ZZUBY up to the cockpit. Just as I was about to start heading back, Nosy Ned leaned forward and said knowingly, "Just so you know, there's LOTS of toys and stuffed animals at Disney World."
"Really?" I asked, with not even a hint of sarcasm. "Thanks for the tip."
And then I "accidentally" hit him in the head with my Gary Coleman sized carry on bag as I walked by. I found our seats and got my bag stowed. A few minutes later, my wife and the girls came back and as they were getting in their seats, the gate agent came down the aisle looking for something. Or someone.
As it turns out, she was looking for us. She handed ZZUBY a bag and said, “we couldn’t find your dog, but we bought you this and hope it helps.” My daughter opened the bag and there was a little stuffed bear inside. Which was about the coolest thing Delta Airlines has ever done for me. And I felt even worse about the snarky things I said in my head earlier.
After that, our flight was fairly uneventful. The plane we were on had TVs at each seat and they purportedly had satellite tv channels. We got exactly 4. And not one of them was ESPN. Even though I had my MP3 player in my Gary Coleman sized carry on bag, it was in the overhead and I wasn’t inclined to stand up and get it. Seemed like a lot of work. So I listened to some music on Delta’s little music system. They had a best of Guns and Roses CD.
I’m not a metal head.
I’ve never been a metal head.
Nor a skin head, despite the musings and wildly false accusations of some newer readers of my trip reports.
But there are a few GnR songs I like. Namely
Paradise City and
Welcome to the Jungle.
So for a brief moment I was in my 20s again. Which makes vacation that much more fun.
We landed about 30 minutes early and once off the plane we hopped the faux Monorail but there were no announcements. No Voice. My poor wife didn’t get to hear me tell her that he’s the same voice from Disney World. So I told her in my head. She told me to shut my pie hole.
Once in the main terminal, we made our way down to the Magic Express counter. Which was at the farthest possible point imaginable. It felt like we were walking to Disney World. No wonder it’s free.
I have nothing nice to say about Magic Express.
Not even that it’s free.
It was quite a schlep to the counter. When you’re carrying Gary Coleman in a bag over your shoulder. Once at the counter, there were about a dozen employees. All standing around talking. Not engaging guests. Or offering help. Eventually, we were beckoned to one of the employees who spoke in a tongue I was not familiar with. I handed her my Magic Express booklet and she said more words. Not wanting her to feel uncomfortable, I also said some words. Unfortunately, they were "Cindy Sheehan makes my liver quiver." She cast me a quizical glance, handed my booklet back and gestured towards the “red carpet.” Which I recognized as a door mat.
We walked over there and then an employee told us to walk to the Contemporary/Wilderness Lodge/Grand Floridian queue. He handed ZZUBY her first sticker of this trip.
I was under the misconception that there was a bus waiting and if we moved quickly we might get on it. So I was walking quickly, pushing the stroller and carrying my Gary Coleman sized bag over my now very sore right shoulder. My wife and ZZUBY were behind me. Creeping. Crawling. Dawdling. And stalling. I yelled over my sore shoulder, “C’mon you two. Step on it already. Disney pace!”
“Calm down," my wife snarked. “It’s only a bus.”
“Calm up,” I said. “It’s a Disney bus.”
Sure enough, right as we reached the front of the queue, we were led outside to a waiting bus.
Which is an ironic turn of phrase.
Because that’s what we did on the bus. We waited. And waited.
And waited.
If waiting on that bus was a Trip Report on the Disboards, then there would be page after page of
and
and
and people asking if the Writer was ok. Eventually, other people would hop on the thread and start attacking the Writer for the long delays and then other people would attack the attackers. A poll would be taken. PMs would be sent. The entire thread would turn into a gossipy little coffee klatch.
And then Mel HappyHaunt would go on yet another trip and start a whole new Trip Report.
In other words, I could have walked to Iraq and found weapons of mass destruction in the time we spent waiting on the bus. I watched as my competition got on board. Because when you’re waiting to check in at Disney World, EVERYONE is your competition. They’re all trying to get the best room available. And in the heat of battle, I assume my competitors are all well versed in Disney and will get "the perfect room," leaving us to wallow in a room so crappy it overlooks a pair of dumpsters. Eventually, our bus driver, Roger Wrong, climbed on board. And we got underway.
I was sick with anxiety about what kind of room we were going to get stuck with. I stared through the tv screen which kept flashing “Magic Express” in and out. In and out. I was stewing. Eventually, the video started and it would have taken my mind off my silent rage but for the lack of volume. Roger Wrong couldn’t bother to turn up the sound. So we stared at the pictures and read the captions. And stewed some more.
Eventually, I recognized that I was worrying about something I couldn’t control and my attitude was pretty bad. I asked the Lord to forgive me and asked Him to give me a measure of peace as we waited. Because we would get the room we were supposed to get. I mostly calmed down and started to enjoy the humid ride.
As we entered Disney property, Roger Wrong, began showering us with trivia. In what I'm sure he thought was a really good Disney monorail voice.
It really wasn't.
About half of what he told us was flat wrong. Obviously and utterly flat wrong. Because having stayed at the Wilderness Lodge twice now, I’m 100% certain there is no buffet restaurant there. Being a nerd, I’m also 100% certain that although the rooms in the Contemporary were fully furnished off site and slid into the building like drawers, they were never removed and exchanged. And since Walt died five years before Disney World opened, I have a high degree of confidence that he didn’t pick out the trees that line the front of the Contemporary.
I was crawling out of my skin wanting to correct this numbskull. It was like some kind of personalized Disney Nerd Hell. Put me on a bus to Disney World that never arrives and force me to listen to some jerkstore prattle on about incorrect Disney trivia.
But I’m experimenting with letting people be wrong even when I know they’re wrong. So I didn’t tell Roger Wrong how far he overshot annoying tour guide.
Once at the Lodge, we fled the confines of the bus and walked inside the lobby. My wife took the girls to the kid’s tv watching area and I got in line. There was but one person ahead of me. I reckon the people on the bus were all headed somewhere else. After a minute or so, Steve beckoned me down to his station. We dispensed with the niceties and I asked, “So do you have a nice room for us?”
He said, “Well give me your phone number and I’ll pull up your reservation.”
I gave it to him and he typed it into his computer. Then he said, “Well, it looks like we have a Courtyard . . . “
And I didn’t need to hear anymore.
I knew right then we had been upgraded to a bunk bed room.
I knew right then that we got the room we were supposed to get. And not the room we paid for. Or deserved.
Even though I booked a standard room, God provided a better way for us. Because He’s God and He likes to bless His children.
I was so excited and relieved and humbled by this upgrade. I told Steve how much we wanted a bunk bed room but had no luck booking it. It occurred to me in that moment that he didn’t realize we had been upgraded. I couldn’t wait for ZZUBY to hear that she got her bunk beds, but since I wasn’t the one who made it happen, I didn’t want to tell her. I did not want to take any of God’s glory. And if she heard the news from me, she might be inclined to think Daddy made it happen for her. I called over to her and she ran up to where I was. I picked her up and asked Steve to tell her what kind of room we got.
Yeah. She was pretty excited about it.
He ran down some information but I didn’t hear any of it. I was too busy thinking about how cool God was.
That moment right there. The moment we found out that although we paid for the least expensive room at the Lodge, we got upgraded to a significantly more expensive one. That the room I had been unable to book despite multiple attempts was now available to us for the price of the cheaper room. That’s an awesome moment. For a guy who feels like he’s in a perpetual battle with Disney for the few ducks left in his wallet, that’s a moment you write about.
And so I have.
We took our Folder of Fun and my Gary Coleman sized carry on and we headed for the lightning fast elevators. We were on the 4th floor again but in the opposite wing of where we were last year. We walked across the lobby and down the North wing until we found our door. I put the key in and opened it up to see our room. It was just like we remembered it.
Isn’t it strange how you can be away from a place for a year and walk into a room that isn’t the room you stayed in the year before but it all looks so much alike that it feels so familiar?
Yet, while it looked the same, the experience we were having was so vastly different.
There was a basket waiting for us on the table and a signed picture from Mickey Mouse. The basket was from a couple we’ve become very good friends with. They had put together an amazing bundle of stuff for both our girls and for my wife and me. It was such an awesome way to be welcomed into our room. And it blessed us hugely.
I walked out on the balcony to see our view. And I immediately noticed what God had done. We were exactly opposite of the room we were in the year before. I stood there for a minute and considered how providential that was. And how specific. A year ago, we were scared, hurting and unsure of what lie ahead. Now we were healthy, excited, hopeful. The very baby we thought we’d lost a year ago was in her stroller cooing and laughing. I turned back to tell my wife to come out on the balcony and I noticed her looking around the room and then looking over at the baby. She was seeing past and present in one scene. I interrupted her thoughts and called her out to where I was standing. I showed her that we were exactly opposite from where we were the year before.
She caught my meaning.
And she started to cry. I hugged her tightly for a while and then walked her back into our room. And instead of jumping on the beds or turning on the TV, we held hands with our five year old and we thanked God for providing all that He had. From the baby being well, to our safe travel, to our on-time flights, to our easy check in, to the gate agent giving my daughter a new stuffed animal, to our upgraded room, to the opposite view, to the basket filled with goodies from our friends. It was overwhelming and amazing. And the opposite of what we anticipated.
We finished praying and then got about our business. ZZUBY climbed up and down her bunk beds. My wife got the baby out of the stroller and changed her dipper. And I called up for more towels. Because it’s never too early to do that. And not everything was the opposite.
Then we called our friends to thank them for the basket and took some pictures of the room before we trashed it like the Rolling Stones. And we walked around saying, “Thank you, Lord. Thank you so much for this.” I walked back out on the balcony and took some pictures of the Lodge from the other side.
We were at the Lodge for a week. I began every morning on that balcony, praying and reading God’s word. And every morning I think I was more enamored of the view of the opposite building than the view of the pool or the water. Don’t get me wrong, the view of the water was great. It’s just that when I was sitting out there praying, I was more mindful of where we’d been just a year ago. And where we were now.
You know, when I started writing this a few weeks ago, I didn’t realize Chapter Three would be published on October 8th. I didn’t realize
any chapter would be published today. I just try to adhere to a 2 week schedule because if I don’t have a deadline, it’s likely new chapters would be scarce. But it’s probably not coincidental that I’m publishing it today.
Today would be my son’s birthday. If my son had lived. October 8, 2006 was the day Samuel was to be born.
So much of what we packed with us last year was the heartbreak and sadness of losing him. It hung heavy in the emergency room as we thought it was happening again. And although we left the ER that night with hopeful news, and although we went on to Disney World and had a nice time, it was undeniably true that we were laden down with a year’s worth of sadness.
I didn’t realize how depressed I was last year at Disney World. Until I sat down on our balcony that first morning. We knew things weren’t right last year, but until I sat on a balcony across from where I sat a year before, I didn’t fully grasp how depressed I was then.
And how unburdened and free I felt now.
It occurred to me that our trips to Disney World truly mark our lives. We go back there and walk the same Mainstreet, ride the same rides, and in this instance sit on the same balcony. We can’t help but see it through a split screen. The then and the now. I considered just how profoundly God had moved us out of that season into this one. So very different than the one before. The distance from the balcony across the courtyard to where we were now wasn’t very great. In feet. Even in time, it had only been a year.
But the distance between what I looked at the year before and what I was looking at now . . . well, I reckon I don’t have the words to describe the difference.
______
Click Here for the Bonus Chapter
Any guesses as to who the "real ZZUB" is....
What a great way to start off a Monday morning.
