Ha ha I sympathize. But what I tell everyone is that it is best that you don't pick up the habit! Unfortunately for me, I happen to love it and it has real therapeutic value to me both for its physical benefits (each round is a 3 or 4 mile walk with a bag of clubs strapped to my back) and the psychological benefits (those are harder to quantify).... I really struggle without it in the winter. Still, I wasn't able to play last November. Too many other things to do, not enough time until the sunset and not enough money to shell out for a round at the normal time! Maybe this autumn!
The Chronicles of Team Manic: A Trip Report 12 Years in the Making! PHOTOS ADDED 6-15
- Thread starter N10CJT
- Start date
My DH hates golf carts. He plays year round here. We seldom get snow (or rain for that matter 
and other chores to catch up on first.
Nonsense DL, I'm sure I'll enjoy it.
In the meantime, I hope you and everyone else looking in enjoys my final installment!
And don't go away forever..... I'm hoping to offer some supplemental material between now and my next trip. Which, incidentally, as I mentioned to my girlfriend tonight has all the makings of an event that will be full of all sorts of curious incidents that may even exceed those of this past trip in their capacity to elicit pointed commentary! There are reasons for this, of which I may mention in the future..... let's just say that I joked to her that it is potentially going to be so much fun for terrible, terrible reasons that I should be ashamed at myself for enjoying so much that I'm going to take notes.......
In the meantime, I hope you and everyone else looking in enjoys my final installment!
And don't go away forever..... I'm hoping to offer some supplemental material between now and my next trip. Which, incidentally, as I mentioned to my girlfriend tonight has all the makings of an event that will be full of all sorts of curious incidents that may even exceed those of this past trip in their capacity to elicit pointed commentary! There are reasons for this, of which I may mention in the future..... let's just say that I joked to her that it is potentially going to be so much fun for terrible, terrible reasons that I should be ashamed at myself for enjoying so much that I'm going to take notes.......
Alas, our final day in Disney World came. All things pass. 
We had until the late afternoon before we actually had to leave, however, and we were going to try to make the most of it. The family had early breakfast reservations at Chef Mickeys, and though I was much in need of sleep after one final night with the alien organism (I survived, and now intend to pen a Hollywood blockbuster disaster film .. monuments may fall to the cadence of the treacherous snoring, but I, with the help of a few plucky Americans and the nations finest scientists, lead the world in the fight back), I was happy to get up and moving. I could sleep when I got home (well, sort of . I did have to drive to Saratoga the next morning to teach).
We drove over to the Contemporary, which was fine by me if for nothing else than that my mother couldnt grumble about the manner in which I saved us from missing breakfast. In any case, we made it in plenty of time, and were able to relax for a while in the lounge. Fortunately, it looks out over the back lagoon . the sight of the Magic Kingdom was depressing enough as we drove up to the resort.
Chef Mickeys is a fun restaurant, and with Minnie there to give me a smooch and my buddy Donald there to entertain me, I cant complain that I had a bad time. But the food was awful.
Soggy bacon, undercooked sausage (it was thoroughly pink inside, which I suppose was alright because it was also tasteless), a terrible paucity of fresh fruit, unappetizing breakfast potatoes, hash that appeared to be made with Spam, and scrambled eggs that looked oddly regurgitated. Im not exaggerating, either, my girlfriend concurs. The Challah French toast was good, so we didnt leave with empty bellies, but at a breakfast buffet I want to eat a variety of food, not just French toast.
After a bad meal punctuated by fun encounters with the characters (Jen met Pluto with a beaming smile) and perhaps one too many napkin waving romps for my fathers taste, we lingered in the Contemporary lobby to browse the gift store there. Even though the Contemporary is no longer my favorite resort, I do love being in the lobby and watching the monorails passing overhead. I suppose that younger technocrats think little of this occurrence, but for me the charms of a childhood when I found the monorail to be a futuristic phenomenon that exceeded my rational comprehension and tempted my sense of wonder persists in some capacity, particularly in a world (and now even a Disney World) so crippling devoted to independent fossil fuel consumption. Even though I do drive a relatively eco-friendly car (a 40 MPG ULEV Honda Civic EX thats 7 years old and still exceeds the fuel standards of almost all cars on the road and still manages to be quick enough to navigate New York City traffic), I would gladly trade many of my driving habits for the type of subway transit available in New York City (when we go, we always take the trains everywhere), and if there was a monorail running from Albany to Saratoga (or even a train!), I would use it all the time. Beyond that, though, there is the internalization of something that many take for granted at workI love to watch planes flying low and banking to expose their bellies, for example, because its remarkable to me that human beings know how to propel enormous pieces of steel through a sky that little over 100 years ago was reserved for birds and dirigibles, and I cant get enough of documentaries about the Apollo program, and while the monorail doesnt quite measure against such engineering feats, the audacity to think of better and more beautiful ways of doing things can be seen in what a lot of people pass over as a novelty. In some ways, the monorail still does represent the future, or at least the potentiality of a future, and regardless, something about its sleek design and quiet operation reaches something inside of me in a way that is difficult to quantify.
So itll surprise few to hear that I exalted in finding the monorail t-shirt that I saw earlier in the trip in my size (though unfortunately, once I returned home I found that the large was tight around my chest, and I had to send it back with my mother to exchange for an extra large . between that and my gorilla shirt, lessons to be learned about Disney sizing). My mother found Mickey Mouse dog collars that fit Abby (our German Shepherd) and were way too large for Rosie (our Irish Setter, who nonetheless wears one as it hangs off of her goofily), then bought my brother one more something-or-other (its an addiction, I fear), and off we went for a final run through the Marketplace, leaving behind for the next year the Magic Kingdom area.
This shopping excursion was somewhat pointless in my way of thinking. It was hot when we parked our car, and I really had no desire to buy anything more. I do regret that somewhat now . there was a yellow Mickey golf polo in some of that great breathable fabric that Adidas uses, and I passed it over. Rationally, I have enough golf shirts, but it would be nice to have that shirt as well right now! My girlfriend bought some Pluto scarves for her dog Max . but she grabbed the wrong size, and theyre much too small for him. We looked in Goofys Candy Store for something to bring to her sweets-addicted grandmother, but all the non-perishable options were neither unique enough nor in any way reasonably priced . ultimately she settled on some kind of chocolate snacks she found in the World of Disney. But the whole affair was once more complicated for no good reason by Team Fun. My father complained of something or another, my brother pulled us over to the Lego store once again, and eventually all of my conscientious adults scattered without a peep about their destinations (Jen is particularly guilty of this when its just the two of us . Ill often find myself walking and occasionally talking, only to turn 360 degrees to find her nowhere in sight), so of course there was much wasted time. Worst of all, there was no plan for what we were going to do after shopping, and since my brother and my father had to go off to the convention hall for some reason and all the wasted time meant that they really couldnt drop us off at the Beach Club before heading out, this oversight made inevitable some sort of argument or another. Sure enough, my mother took issue with being left there without transportation (that is, she looked for an excuse to butt heads with my father, who I think by this point was driving her straight battyclearly, the bus was a viable and even convenient option), and my father left grumpy. Ah, the parting shots of Team Fun.
Once we returned to the Beach Club, the three of us remaining dropped into the lobby for some conversation with Art. I feel compelled to note once more how friendly and pleasant Art is, and I am amazed at how on point he is with his memory of people and what their plans were since the last time he spoke with them. My mother actually delivered a gift from Jen and me (something native to our region that we knew hed love) during her current trip, and he remembers us clearly and was so appreciative of our gesture, which makes me feel good.
My mother remained behind with Art as Jen and I went to the room to change into our swimsuits for our final swim in Stormalong Bay. It was a bittersweet affair. The weather was perfect and the pool un-crowded save for another group of children enjoying absurd games with the youth club. We sampled each part of the pool once more, and finished with one last trip down the slide.
Jen and I decided to spend some time by ourselves. Ill leave it there, as even the hint of our romantic and intimate lives turns her beet red. In any case, it was quite nice, because it served as a reminder that though we were heading back to a much colder place that is bereft of Splash Mountains and Stormalong Bays, at least the other person would be there with us.
After showers, we joined my mother and headed to Beaches and Cream for a late afternoon meal. We were seated more or less immediately, and in fact our service was to be friendly and brisk. I had a hot dog and onion rings, both of which were quite tasty (I may be a foodie, but that extends to hot dogs and onion rings .. the dog was not to the standards of Sahlens in Buffalo or Papaya King from the city, but it was plump and tasty, and the onion rings were too thick on occasion, but overall nicely done). I dont like hamburgers, but Jen had one and my mother had a cheeseburger, and both were reported as well prepared. But the main attractions were the milkshakes. I demand a lot of my milkshakes. Nothing fancy . just simple, well textured vanilla. And this one measured up. Jens strawberry shake was also quite good, with little chunks of strawberry struggling up the straw. And the portions are great. While the take out counter only provides a standard sized paper cup of it, at the tables you are presented a large glass and an accompanying shaker generously stocked with reserves, in the tradition of the old malt shops that continues at the best fountains around today.
All of this was not making me want to leave any quicker, however. After we finished at Beaches and Cream, I really began to feel the weight of the inevitable. My mother is fond of recounting tales from my childhood when I wept at the time of departure. She thinks it embarrasses me (it doesnt). Well I didnt cry this time, but I did grow particularly sad. Jen and I packed our things and waited for the time of our Magical Express pick-up. I actually went out on the balcony and sat for some time, looking out upon the tops of the EPCOT buildings and the looming silver sphere.
When it was time, we headed to the lobby and out to wait for our bus. It was late. A bus arrived some 20 minutes after the time ours was supposed to arrive, but it wouldnt let us on! The driver got on the phone and tried to decipher the problem, then told us to wait where we were, he would come back to pick us up. Perplexed, we watched him leave us behind (I think, in retrospect, that he had to drop off arriving guest before he could pick up departing ones). I began to wonder if we were destined to miss our flight and be stranded in Disney World, and secretly I began to hope for just such a late-arriving excuse to remain there. In the very least, I considered the irony of worrying about a bus coming in sufficient time for us to leave a place neither of us wanted to leave.
Alas, the bus came, and off we went. And of course, the Disney marketing machine took over, pumping sad music into the cabin as all our favorite characters said goodbye to us on the television screens. Now its time to say goodbye to all our family . we heard them sing deliberately with a tinge of sadness, and then it came . M-I-C . See you real soon!.... K-E-Y . Why? Because we like you!.... M-O-U-S-E .. How reassuring! Of course, we fully understood the scheme being employed here, particularly after I had pointed out to Jen how the buses returning from the parks at night play soft, sad music as opposed to the rousing tunes and hopeful commentary offered on the way to them. And I can see how it could reinforce the desire to return so powerfully that you might think of little else on the flight home. But for us it was superfluous. We already were thinking about returning, and my mother had already taken advantage of an offered discount to book another trip while on the current one. Were going back again this November.
The airport was less than fun. When you arrive, Magical Express takes care of everything. When you leave (at least on Southwest), they drop you where they drop you. We had to walk a considerable distance with our bags, and Jen got crabby and began in on how stupid Magic Express was, which eventually got turned on me in some capacity (Team Fun got to her, oh no!). This obviously didnt please me, as for my part I was lugging duffle bags that began to burn my by-now tired muscles and so wasnt exactly having a rousing time myself. Im considering buying wheeled luggage for this exact reason, but Ive long since learned that discomfort is temporary and its best to just push throughsoon enough the bags were checked and we were going through security.
Now Jen fancied herself quite the clever kitty when she decided that it was a fine idea to wear her Mickey Crocs onto the plane because they wouldnt have to be removed in security. Of course they do have to be removed regardless of the hideous fashion statement they make (I suppose, in any case, that terrorists can just as prone to the tempting comfort of rubberized footwear as anyone else), and so she found herself walking barefoot across a section of Orlando International, which I agree is somewhat gross. Later, of course, she was going to have to change them, Central New York not having the kind of climate conducive to such footwear, perhaps specifically because our region wants to do its best to steer its beloved inhabitants from making such choices in apparel. Good thinking, sweetheart!
In any case, off we went, albeit a bit later because of a shift in the winds right as we slipped into the second takeoff spot. I thought that being exhausted would ease my anxiety on the plane, but instead it worsened it, and the trip seemed to drag on forever. Then Albany greeted us with gusting winds that tossed the jet around in all sorts of fun ways. It made Jen nervous, so you can imagine how much I enjoyed it. We had to approach from the north, so we made an oh-so-smooth series of banks, and ended with an even smoother final landing, the pilot feeling so confident that he dropped the wing perilously close to the tarmac. After touchdown, the flight attendant came on the P.A. and squealed wheeeeeeee, which was so reassuringit was nice to know that even those who fly for a living were on edge because of the tossing.
As a final jab, as the plane docked, the pilot said across the P.A. Welcome home to Albany, to which I quipped to Jen, Right . he can say welcome home to us, because no one in their right mind is visiting Albany this time of year.
Really, its not a bad place to live and we love our neighborhood and the brownstone we live in and the Olmstead-designed park across the street and the proximity to my first love, New York City, but at times it doesnt make this kind of sense. For instance, when it is cold. Very cold. The opposite of Disney cold. And when December is going to be one of the worst in recent memory.
Only 360 some-odd days until Disney! See you real soon!
We had until the late afternoon before we actually had to leave, however, and we were going to try to make the most of it. The family had early breakfast reservations at Chef Mickeys, and though I was much in need of sleep after one final night with the alien organism (I survived, and now intend to pen a Hollywood blockbuster disaster film .. monuments may fall to the cadence of the treacherous snoring, but I, with the help of a few plucky Americans and the nations finest scientists, lead the world in the fight back), I was happy to get up and moving. I could sleep when I got home (well, sort of . I did have to drive to Saratoga the next morning to teach).
We drove over to the Contemporary, which was fine by me if for nothing else than that my mother couldnt grumble about the manner in which I saved us from missing breakfast. In any case, we made it in plenty of time, and were able to relax for a while in the lounge. Fortunately, it looks out over the back lagoon . the sight of the Magic Kingdom was depressing enough as we drove up to the resort.
Chef Mickeys is a fun restaurant, and with Minnie there to give me a smooch and my buddy Donald there to entertain me, I cant complain that I had a bad time. But the food was awful.
Soggy bacon, undercooked sausage (it was thoroughly pink inside, which I suppose was alright because it was also tasteless), a terrible paucity of fresh fruit, unappetizing breakfast potatoes, hash that appeared to be made with Spam, and scrambled eggs that looked oddly regurgitated. Im not exaggerating, either, my girlfriend concurs. The Challah French toast was good, so we didnt leave with empty bellies, but at a breakfast buffet I want to eat a variety of food, not just French toast.After a bad meal punctuated by fun encounters with the characters (Jen met Pluto with a beaming smile) and perhaps one too many napkin waving romps for my fathers taste, we lingered in the Contemporary lobby to browse the gift store there. Even though the Contemporary is no longer my favorite resort, I do love being in the lobby and watching the monorails passing overhead. I suppose that younger technocrats think little of this occurrence, but for me the charms of a childhood when I found the monorail to be a futuristic phenomenon that exceeded my rational comprehension and tempted my sense of wonder persists in some capacity, particularly in a world (and now even a Disney World) so crippling devoted to independent fossil fuel consumption. Even though I do drive a relatively eco-friendly car (a 40 MPG ULEV Honda Civic EX thats 7 years old and still exceeds the fuel standards of almost all cars on the road and still manages to be quick enough to navigate New York City traffic), I would gladly trade many of my driving habits for the type of subway transit available in New York City (when we go, we always take the trains everywhere), and if there was a monorail running from Albany to Saratoga (or even a train!), I would use it all the time. Beyond that, though, there is the internalization of something that many take for granted at workI love to watch planes flying low and banking to expose their bellies, for example, because its remarkable to me that human beings know how to propel enormous pieces of steel through a sky that little over 100 years ago was reserved for birds and dirigibles, and I cant get enough of documentaries about the Apollo program, and while the monorail doesnt quite measure against such engineering feats, the audacity to think of better and more beautiful ways of doing things can be seen in what a lot of people pass over as a novelty. In some ways, the monorail still does represent the future, or at least the potentiality of a future, and regardless, something about its sleek design and quiet operation reaches something inside of me in a way that is difficult to quantify.
So itll surprise few to hear that I exalted in finding the monorail t-shirt that I saw earlier in the trip in my size (though unfortunately, once I returned home I found that the large was tight around my chest, and I had to send it back with my mother to exchange for an extra large . between that and my gorilla shirt, lessons to be learned about Disney sizing). My mother found Mickey Mouse dog collars that fit Abby (our German Shepherd) and were way too large for Rosie (our Irish Setter, who nonetheless wears one as it hangs off of her goofily), then bought my brother one more something-or-other (its an addiction, I fear), and off we went for a final run through the Marketplace, leaving behind for the next year the Magic Kingdom area.
This shopping excursion was somewhat pointless in my way of thinking. It was hot when we parked our car, and I really had no desire to buy anything more. I do regret that somewhat now . there was a yellow Mickey golf polo in some of that great breathable fabric that Adidas uses, and I passed it over. Rationally, I have enough golf shirts, but it would be nice to have that shirt as well right now! My girlfriend bought some Pluto scarves for her dog Max . but she grabbed the wrong size, and theyre much too small for him. We looked in Goofys Candy Store for something to bring to her sweets-addicted grandmother, but all the non-perishable options were neither unique enough nor in any way reasonably priced . ultimately she settled on some kind of chocolate snacks she found in the World of Disney. But the whole affair was once more complicated for no good reason by Team Fun. My father complained of something or another, my brother pulled us over to the Lego store once again, and eventually all of my conscientious adults scattered without a peep about their destinations (Jen is particularly guilty of this when its just the two of us . Ill often find myself walking and occasionally talking, only to turn 360 degrees to find her nowhere in sight), so of course there was much wasted time. Worst of all, there was no plan for what we were going to do after shopping, and since my brother and my father had to go off to the convention hall for some reason and all the wasted time meant that they really couldnt drop us off at the Beach Club before heading out, this oversight made inevitable some sort of argument or another. Sure enough, my mother took issue with being left there without transportation (that is, she looked for an excuse to butt heads with my father, who I think by this point was driving her straight battyclearly, the bus was a viable and even convenient option), and my father left grumpy. Ah, the parting shots of Team Fun.
Once we returned to the Beach Club, the three of us remaining dropped into the lobby for some conversation with Art. I feel compelled to note once more how friendly and pleasant Art is, and I am amazed at how on point he is with his memory of people and what their plans were since the last time he spoke with them. My mother actually delivered a gift from Jen and me (something native to our region that we knew hed love) during her current trip, and he remembers us clearly and was so appreciative of our gesture, which makes me feel good.
My mother remained behind with Art as Jen and I went to the room to change into our swimsuits for our final swim in Stormalong Bay. It was a bittersweet affair. The weather was perfect and the pool un-crowded save for another group of children enjoying absurd games with the youth club. We sampled each part of the pool once more, and finished with one last trip down the slide.
Jen and I decided to spend some time by ourselves. Ill leave it there, as even the hint of our romantic and intimate lives turns her beet red. In any case, it was quite nice, because it served as a reminder that though we were heading back to a much colder place that is bereft of Splash Mountains and Stormalong Bays, at least the other person would be there with us.
After showers, we joined my mother and headed to Beaches and Cream for a late afternoon meal. We were seated more or less immediately, and in fact our service was to be friendly and brisk. I had a hot dog and onion rings, both of which were quite tasty (I may be a foodie, but that extends to hot dogs and onion rings .. the dog was not to the standards of Sahlens in Buffalo or Papaya King from the city, but it was plump and tasty, and the onion rings were too thick on occasion, but overall nicely done). I dont like hamburgers, but Jen had one and my mother had a cheeseburger, and both were reported as well prepared. But the main attractions were the milkshakes. I demand a lot of my milkshakes. Nothing fancy . just simple, well textured vanilla. And this one measured up. Jens strawberry shake was also quite good, with little chunks of strawberry struggling up the straw. And the portions are great. While the take out counter only provides a standard sized paper cup of it, at the tables you are presented a large glass and an accompanying shaker generously stocked with reserves, in the tradition of the old malt shops that continues at the best fountains around today.
All of this was not making me want to leave any quicker, however. After we finished at Beaches and Cream, I really began to feel the weight of the inevitable. My mother is fond of recounting tales from my childhood when I wept at the time of departure. She thinks it embarrasses me (it doesnt). Well I didnt cry this time, but I did grow particularly sad. Jen and I packed our things and waited for the time of our Magical Express pick-up. I actually went out on the balcony and sat for some time, looking out upon the tops of the EPCOT buildings and the looming silver sphere.
When it was time, we headed to the lobby and out to wait for our bus. It was late. A bus arrived some 20 minutes after the time ours was supposed to arrive, but it wouldnt let us on! The driver got on the phone and tried to decipher the problem, then told us to wait where we were, he would come back to pick us up. Perplexed, we watched him leave us behind (I think, in retrospect, that he had to drop off arriving guest before he could pick up departing ones). I began to wonder if we were destined to miss our flight and be stranded in Disney World, and secretly I began to hope for just such a late-arriving excuse to remain there. In the very least, I considered the irony of worrying about a bus coming in sufficient time for us to leave a place neither of us wanted to leave.
Alas, the bus came, and off we went. And of course, the Disney marketing machine took over, pumping sad music into the cabin as all our favorite characters said goodbye to us on the television screens. Now its time to say goodbye to all our family . we heard them sing deliberately with a tinge of sadness, and then it came . M-I-C . See you real soon!.... K-E-Y . Why? Because we like you!.... M-O-U-S-E .. How reassuring! Of course, we fully understood the scheme being employed here, particularly after I had pointed out to Jen how the buses returning from the parks at night play soft, sad music as opposed to the rousing tunes and hopeful commentary offered on the way to them. And I can see how it could reinforce the desire to return so powerfully that you might think of little else on the flight home. But for us it was superfluous. We already were thinking about returning, and my mother had already taken advantage of an offered discount to book another trip while on the current one. Were going back again this November.
The airport was less than fun. When you arrive, Magical Express takes care of everything. When you leave (at least on Southwest), they drop you where they drop you. We had to walk a considerable distance with our bags, and Jen got crabby and began in on how stupid Magic Express was, which eventually got turned on me in some capacity (Team Fun got to her, oh no!). This obviously didnt please me, as for my part I was lugging duffle bags that began to burn my by-now tired muscles and so wasnt exactly having a rousing time myself. Im considering buying wheeled luggage for this exact reason, but Ive long since learned that discomfort is temporary and its best to just push throughsoon enough the bags were checked and we were going through security.
Now Jen fancied herself quite the clever kitty when she decided that it was a fine idea to wear her Mickey Crocs onto the plane because they wouldnt have to be removed in security. Of course they do have to be removed regardless of the hideous fashion statement they make (I suppose, in any case, that terrorists can just as prone to the tempting comfort of rubberized footwear as anyone else), and so she found herself walking barefoot across a section of Orlando International, which I agree is somewhat gross. Later, of course, she was going to have to change them, Central New York not having the kind of climate conducive to such footwear, perhaps specifically because our region wants to do its best to steer its beloved inhabitants from making such choices in apparel. Good thinking, sweetheart!
In any case, off we went, albeit a bit later because of a shift in the winds right as we slipped into the second takeoff spot. I thought that being exhausted would ease my anxiety on the plane, but instead it worsened it, and the trip seemed to drag on forever. Then Albany greeted us with gusting winds that tossed the jet around in all sorts of fun ways. It made Jen nervous, so you can imagine how much I enjoyed it. We had to approach from the north, so we made an oh-so-smooth series of banks, and ended with an even smoother final landing, the pilot feeling so confident that he dropped the wing perilously close to the tarmac. After touchdown, the flight attendant came on the P.A. and squealed wheeeeeeee, which was so reassuringit was nice to know that even those who fly for a living were on edge because of the tossing.
As a final jab, as the plane docked, the pilot said across the P.A. Welcome home to Albany, to which I quipped to Jen, Right . he can say welcome home to us, because no one in their right mind is visiting Albany this time of year.
Really, its not a bad place to live and we love our neighborhood and the brownstone we live in and the Olmstead-designed park across the street and the proximity to my first love, New York City, but at times it doesnt make this kind of sense. For instance, when it is cold. Very cold. The opposite of Disney cold. And when December is going to be one of the worst in recent memory.
Only 360 some-odd days until Disney! See you real soon!
DL55
More time than money
- Joined
- Oct 12, 2007
- Messages
- 2,397
So sad the trip has ended. What a shame your buffet sucked. Variety is why you pick a buffet you can't get that if you can't eat most of the foods. 
I love the monorails, they still look futuristic to me too.
Heading to the airport is all downhill for me. I just want to get the traveling done.
I'll look forward to your supplemental reports and your next trip.
Variety is why you pick a buffet you can't get that if you can't eat most of the foods. I love the monorails, they still look futuristic to me too.
Heading to the airport is all downhill for me. I just want to get the traveling done.
I'll look forward to your supplemental reports and your next trip.
Me and my girlfriend just got back from Cape Cod! It was a wonderful time! I feel like I should write a trip report for this vacation.....
We have tons of pictures from the Cape, so Jen may finally open a Flickr account and upload those she has of Disney as well. If that actually happens, perhaps the photos will finally be attached to my report! We'll see....
Hey DL, have you begun your own trip report yet?
We have tons of pictures from the Cape, so Jen may finally open a Flickr account and upload those she has of Disney as well. If that actually happens, perhaps the photos will finally be attached to my report! We'll see....
Hey DL, have you begun your own trip report yet?
DL55
More time than money
- Joined
- Oct 12, 2007
- Messages
- 2,397
My DH and I just got back from a short camping trip. 
Camera ran out of batteries so no pictures.
Here is my TR link: http://www.disboards.com/showthread.php?t=1815847
It's called "WDW without ADRs...almost". Not as interesting as yours but it is a quick read.
Camera ran out of batteries so no pictures.Here is my TR link: http://www.disboards.com/showthread.php?t=1815847
It's called "WDW without ADRs...almost". Not as interesting as yours but it is a quick read.
On this, the 180 day mark from our next trip, I thought it might be fun to add a ranking of the restaurants in Disney. Disney food on the brain today!
At the top has to be California Grill. Fantastic sushi, a great atmosphere, and the unique opportunity to see fireworks from the observation deck. It's the only restaurant that I will HAVE to go to each and every trip to Disney World. I could eat there several times during a trip without compulsion.
In second I'm going to put Yachtsman, for its Disney-rare combination of remarkable food (great bisque, fantastic steaks) and understated sophistication, along with a fantastic server in Sameer.
Third is hard, but I'm going with Flying Fish because the food is just that good. As you know, we had some issues with the layout of the place and some of the service decisions, but that plate of calimari was so tasty, and the snapper was a salve of all inflicted wounds before the meal.....
A close fourth is Jiko. What a great wine list, and the food there is fantastic. In particular, I could chomp the appetizers all night. And the restaurant is very pretty, too.
Fifth is The Brown Derby. I do wish they has replicated the exterior, but the interior is very nice, and the food is great. Duck AND venison in one dish? I can't tolerate that at all.........
In sixth I'm going with Beaches and Cream. The food is basic but tasty, but the milkshakes are the real appeal. Plus the space is really fun.
Seventh is the Crystal Palace. Now no breakfast buffet in Disney is going to be gourmet, but this one was quite tasty. And the location location location is unbeatable. It's so nice to go in before the park opens, sit in that beautiful building, and have fun with Pooh and friends.
Eighth, Le Cellier. I'm not as crazy about this place as some people, but the cheese soup is very good. Maybe if I'd had a steak I'd feel differently.
Ninth would be Kona for breakfast. In all honesty, if I was a bigger breakfast person, this would be higher on the list. But I have to admit that one of the big perks of staying at the Polynesian would be the ability to eat there each morning.
Tenth is the Cape May breakfast. The food in the morning was actually quite good, and it's a lot of fun.
Eleventh place goes to the Galley, which is undeservedly empty during breakfast hours.
Twelfth is Spoodles for breakfast. Just give me sausage links, not patties....
Thirteenth is Kona for dinner. It's not bad, but those potstickers that my family were raving about were underwhelming, my tuna wasn't cut properly, and the fried tomatoes weren't very good.
Fourteenth, Chef Mickey's. Yuck. But it is a fun place to eat.
Fifteenth is Cape May dinner. Yuck. And it isn't really a fun place to eat.
And sixteenth is whatever counter service place we ate at at Blizzard Beach. Jen, what were you thinking?
Honorable mention goes to Big River, whose beer is good, if served too cold.
At the top has to be California Grill. Fantastic sushi, a great atmosphere, and the unique opportunity to see fireworks from the observation deck. It's the only restaurant that I will HAVE to go to each and every trip to Disney World. I could eat there several times during a trip without compulsion.
In second I'm going to put Yachtsman, for its Disney-rare combination of remarkable food (great bisque, fantastic steaks) and understated sophistication, along with a fantastic server in Sameer.
Third is hard, but I'm going with Flying Fish because the food is just that good. As you know, we had some issues with the layout of the place and some of the service decisions, but that plate of calimari was so tasty, and the snapper was a salve of all inflicted wounds before the meal.....
A close fourth is Jiko. What a great wine list, and the food there is fantastic. In particular, I could chomp the appetizers all night. And the restaurant is very pretty, too.
Fifth is The Brown Derby. I do wish they has replicated the exterior, but the interior is very nice, and the food is great. Duck AND venison in one dish? I can't tolerate that at all.........
In sixth I'm going with Beaches and Cream. The food is basic but tasty, but the milkshakes are the real appeal. Plus the space is really fun.
Seventh is the Crystal Palace. Now no breakfast buffet in Disney is going to be gourmet, but this one was quite tasty. And the location location location is unbeatable. It's so nice to go in before the park opens, sit in that beautiful building, and have fun with Pooh and friends.
Eighth, Le Cellier. I'm not as crazy about this place as some people, but the cheese soup is very good. Maybe if I'd had a steak I'd feel differently.
Ninth would be Kona for breakfast. In all honesty, if I was a bigger breakfast person, this would be higher on the list. But I have to admit that one of the big perks of staying at the Polynesian would be the ability to eat there each morning.
Tenth is the Cape May breakfast. The food in the morning was actually quite good, and it's a lot of fun.
Eleventh place goes to the Galley, which is undeservedly empty during breakfast hours.
Twelfth is Spoodles for breakfast. Just give me sausage links, not patties....
Thirteenth is Kona for dinner. It's not bad, but those potstickers that my family were raving about were underwhelming, my tuna wasn't cut properly, and the fried tomatoes weren't very good.
Fourteenth, Chef Mickey's. Yuck. But it is a fun place to eat.
Fifteenth is Cape May dinner. Yuck. And it isn't really a fun place to eat.
And sixteenth is whatever counter service place we ate at at Blizzard Beach. Jen, what were you thinking?
Honorable mention goes to Big River, whose beer is good, if served too cold.
DL55
More time than money
- Joined
- Oct 12, 2007
- Messages
- 2,397
Only 180 days until your next trip...lucky. I have to wait another 4 years. Reading those choices really made me miss Disney. I remember we ate our very first meal at Cape May on our very first trip to WDW. Long before I discovered the DIS. 
DL55
More time than money
- Joined
- Oct 12, 2007
- Messages
- 2,397
Yeah, I could win the lottery! Of course I'd have to buy a ticket first.
DH has mentioned going again in 2-3 years. I'm alright with it. I like the anticipation almost as much as being there.
It usually takes me a couple of years to miss Disney but that was before I discovered the DIS. 
DH has mentioned going again in 2-3 years. I'm alright with it. I like the anticipation almost as much as being there.
It usually takes me a couple of years to miss Disney but that was before I discovered the DIS.
DL55
More time than money
- Joined
- Oct 12, 2007
- Messages
- 2,397
Just got back from the US Open...not near as fun as WDW. Just went back over your report to see the pictures. Very nice but I haven't a clue as what you were trying to photograph in the one. 
Your kitty looks like mine and acts like mine. He's discovered how to open drawers and pull everything out. 
He really likes pulling my nightgowns out and dumping them on the floor.
Your kitty looks like mine and acts like mine. He's discovered how to open drawers and pull everything out. He really likes pulling my nightgowns out and dumping them on the floor. Ha ha cats, they're so weird. This one is named Roscoe. I entitled the drawer picture "Roscoe Rethinking His Decisions."
High drama at the US Open, eh? That course looks gorgeous. Next year it's being held at Bethpage again..... a course that I've played!
High drama at the US Open, eh? That course looks gorgeous. Next year it's being held at Bethpage again..... a course that I've played!
DL55
More time than money
- Joined
- Oct 12, 2007
- Messages
- 2,397
Having played at Bethpage should make the Open more interesting as you compare your experience. I know my DH would love to play at one of these courses. He's envious of the bunkers that have sand in them and soft grass. Here if you're not on the fairway you're in the desert (on hard ground). He says the pros should play golf here if they want a challenge.
-
National Geographic-Lindblad Offers $2K Air Credit on 2026 Arctic Expeditions
-
How Important Is Staying in the Disney Bubble?
-
Month At-A-Glance Walt Disney World Park Hours for October 2025
-
New Tiki Treasure: The Evil Queen & The Witch Mug
-
'Prep & Landing' Returns with New Holiday Special, The Snowball Protocol
-
Tune In: LIVE Disney News & Discussion | 09/23/25
-
Meet the New Walt Disney World Ambassador Team
Receive up to $1,000 in Onboard Credit and a Gift Basket!
That’s right — when you book your Disney Cruise with Dreams Unlimited Travel, you’ll receive incredible shipboard credits to spend during your vacation!
CLICK HERE
That’s right — when you book your Disney Cruise with Dreams Unlimited Travel, you’ll receive incredible shipboard credits to spend during your vacation!
CLICK HERE
