Disclaimer: This next part will be, possibly, MORE offensive than yesterday's post re: the vomiting. Or spewing. Gagging. Yawning with odour. Puke. Barf. Yak. Splat. Blow lunch. Toss cookies. Shoot snack. Spray the bowl. Coat the cat. So on. And so forth. However, the upside is: No pictures. Ok? Then:
Day 7, Dec 17: The four awake happyhaunts named Bashful, Alecto, Thalia and Georg von Trapp and ,our fifth dwarf, Sleepy headed back to our home at the BCV. (Good luck with three, of the above five, vague references...) We wanted to spend some time in our room drinking beer, napping and watching the tube. We STILL, somehow, hadn't managed to get enough of The Suite Life of Zack and Cody... BETH? And get ready for our dinner at Chef Mickey's. I wanted everyone exceptionally clean and crisp for all the pictures I planned on taking. I know. I can DREAM... can't I? I was feeling a little down in the dumps. The end of our trip was too quickly approaching. That also meant the arrival of that "little envelope of horror" was coming quickly, too. Plus... I thought that Saturday was the end of our Epcot adventures for the trip. Tommorrow we had a busy, early day at the MK planned which included the Tom Sawyer Island Scavenger Hunt. I was feeling a titch sad. 'Cause I love Epcot and Gary. We must have done MS about twenty times, at least, this week. But we never made it back to Soarin'. Which was a letdown. The really funny thing about Mission Space is that Calvin can ride it over and over again with absolutely NO problem. In the sickness department. Here's another tidbit about my darling middle son: Calvin is a puker. A hurler. A barfer. A blower. Don't worry. That's enough. You can add as many more vomit references as you please, though. He is the one child who gets carsick. His occassional days off school generally start with the 'big-middle-of-the-night-can't-QUITE-make-it-to-the-toilet' surprise. For DH. 'Cause my Big Mommy Man is our resident barf cleaner-upper. Thanks DH! Calvin even dubbed it a "CHOKE". He personalized the barfing thing for himself. I could tell you a hundred stories. Don't worry, I won't. I'll just tell you one. This past summer we were camping on the Bruce Peninsula and decided to take the ferry at Tobermory over to Manitoulin Island, take the swinging bridge, and then continue down past Sudbury to our cottage for the rest of the time. It's incredibly beautiful... that Bruce Peninsula. You all should visit someday. Anywho... we got on the ferry and began a VERY rough ride over to the island. It was because we were experiencing the effects of Hurricane Katrina way up here. We went to the bar for the trip. Surprise. Because I COULD not walk around on that blasted boat. I was lurching all over the place. So, I figured that since I'm already doing the dance... I might as well have a few drinks to go along with it. Tommy, however, could walk just fine. He has natural sea-legs. Calvin sat down and started getting paler and paler. Tommy made friends with the table of three scary biker dudes beside us. Hi biker dudes! And... was soon the fourth at their table. He was, however, not huge, long-haired, slightly grimy, pot-bellied and draped in leather. They were really nice guys, though. And, it's amazing how much CANDY Biker Dudes carry with them. It really surprised me. Doesn't really fit their image. They're the Candymen. So Tommy was eating their candy and talking to them. They thought he was a real hoot. Plus they were into the cups, as well. I was talking with them too. DH was off getting me another drink and locating a barf bag because we already had our fears. Yes. By the way. That's right. I was, in fact, allowing Tommy to take candy from biker strangers. I admit it. Call CAS now. Quick! DH came back and told Calvin that they better stroll outside for some air on deck. Calvin was looking pretty icky by now. And he was uncharacteristically quiet. Very quiet. About 10 minutes later they wandered back in. With Calvin leading the way. DH walking behind. Now, picture this: This is a BIG bar and lounge area. Lots of tables, really close together. And the place is PACKED. Because of the weather outside and the rolling of the boat. And the really cheap drinks. Calvin is WAY across the room from us and, yet, I can TELL he's going to puke. Soon! He's green. And his pupils are floating upwards in the whites. That's the sclera for all you eyeball buffs out there. I know he's seconds away from it. So I bellow, at the top of my lungs, "Melly... he's gonna THROW-UP!" Well. It was like everything suddenly slowed down. Slow motion. Everyone's head swung, together, around towards Calvin, a guy nearby us knocked his beer off the table as he turned, people in my puker's immediate path dodged out of the way. All slowly, though, as his hands... came...up... towards... his mouth. DH moved like lightening, whipped the open bag towards Calvin's mouth and spun him away and towards the Men's Room. Calvin lurched away. Heaving. My biker buddies thought this was all very amusing. And offered me more Junior Mints. Thanks! Five minutes later a happy, rosy cheeked Calvin burst out of the bar's washroom... announcing to all in the room that he had "Practically FILLED the WHOLE bag!" He was very pleased with his vomitability. DH was a little green now, though. And mouth breathing. Still. I had to remind him that he could relax... the worse was over. SOOOOOO... where was I? Oh yeah. Calvin can ride and ride and ride MS with not a bit of a problem whatsoever. Just some more of that great Disney Magic for you all. You're very welcome. So the happyhaunts relax in the room. I decide to cheer myself up by going shopping down at the Beach Club Marketplace. I want a t-shirt, now, because DH has one and its made him so darn happy. I look around. I don't find anything I like. Same old. Same old. Little did I know that there was a Haunted Mansion shirt hidden in our room... with my name on it. However... it's really small. And really tight. I think they bought me a tween size small. So, next May, when you see the blond lady who is absolutely POURED into a black and purple T-shirt with her belly-button showing... that'll be me. Say hi. I headed back to the room. Demanded everyone take showers and get spiffy. Put on a dress. Ignored the fact that I was in a dress and DH was in a black t-shirt. Albiet new. And we headed over to Chef Mickey's. See dining report. Yada. However... I spent more time in the bathroom with Tommy of the Spikey Poop haunts than in the restaurant, itself. Finally... finally... he was finished and we went back to throw some veggies his way. "Mushy carrots... show me the magic!" The funny thing is while I was writing the dining report... a feller PM'd me that there was a much closer washroom actually IN Chef Mickey's than the one we had to walk to by the giftshop. Didn't know. Thanks. We finished dinner. Shopped. Mailed Lotus a few cards. One to The General. Some to my friends. Yada. And... then... I saw someone I KNEW! Well, not really. But in the giftshop I turned around and found myself staring at this same couple from our May trip. I immediately recongnized them because they were VERY unique looking. We'll leave it at that. But the reason that I watched them, last trip, on the monorail was that they seemed SO in to each other. And they were probably in their early fifties. Unique looking. Like from 1977. Dripping with bling. But they were holding hands, whispering, giving each other the odd peck on the cheek. You know... really dug each other. It was nice. And groovy. So. I went over and said "Hi. You were here the third week of May weren't you?". Look of amazement. Why, yes, they were. We chatted. They were from New York. Love the Mouse. So on. Nice people. Couldn't BELIEVE I remembered seeing them. Clearly they think they're run of the mill sorts. Ha. Anyway... if I ever see them again, at WDW, I'm inviting them to our cottage for a week. Sometimes you gotta believe in fate.
To be continued...
I sure do hope you will write another one when you return from your trip in May!
I just laughed so hard my DS 11 came to see what was wrong! I love this humor as much as you do. But I'm from New Orleans. We're a different kind of culture down there. I remember when we 1st got internet there was a whole website that listed every type of poop there was. Of course, I saw the same list when I was in college and we all thought it was the funniest thing we'd ever seen. But I (as you say) digress. I'm having WAAAY too much fun talking about this for a woman my age. My mother would have a cow if she knew. (She thinks she raised a nice Catholic girl!) 
