Machta
Mouseketeer
- Joined
- Jan 16, 2005
- Messages
- 132
This is a copy of the letter I have just sent to Southwest:
Dear Southwest Airlines:
This letter is to thank you for your "Bags Fly Free" policy, but before I do that I must tell you a story. I apologize in advance if it's long.
Every year for the past five we have taken a family trip from our home in Colorado to that paradise of whimsy, Walt Disney World. We usually stay about 10 days, reveling in what must surely be the biggest playground in the world. Whilst there, however, we have found that we sometimes need a break from the crowds so we take an afternoon to go to Disney's campground at Fort Wilderness, rent bicycles, and tool around on the roads and bike paths there.
If you have never been to Fort Wilderness, I would say that it is quite different from the rest of "The House of Mouse." While the theme parks are, in general, filled with families from all over the world, the campground seems to be more of a big ol juicy watermelon slice of the Deep South. Grandmas and Grandpas park their huge RVs, families set up their pop-top trailers, and, since we often travel during the holidays, many campers go to legendary lengths to decorate their wooded campsites for Christmas. It's a delightful showcase of genuine "Norman Rockwell" Americana that you can't find anywhere else on Disney property.
One innovation that Disney has made to try and cut down on the traffic in the campground is to discourage vehicles driving in and out. Once you set up camp, you park your vehicle and leave it. There are buses that stop at the general store, and Disney will rent you a gasoline-powered golf cart to putter around the campground if you don't (here's the setup for the story) want to rent or didnt bring your own bicycle.
One Christmas we took the bus from our hotel to the Wilderness Lodge and rented beach cruisers. There's a lovely bike path through the forest to the campground. We even saw a couple of deer that bounded in front of us! Pedaling through the campground we had a lot of fun looking at the elaborate Christmas displays that people put up.
Now at this point I must tell you that my husband is a bit bicycle-crazy. He not only rides for exercise but makes a point of trying to ride around town on errands as much as possible. He goes to the grocery store by bike, rides to church, and even hooks up our Burley bike trailer to take our recyclables to the recycle center. So I have found that if I want to keep him happy, as the Trip Planner in the household I have to make sure that we get at least one bike ride in on every trip.
Back to our story. We had ridden for an hour or so and were lollygagging down a lane when "The Challenge" occurred. One of the campers pulled out from his site behind us in his rented golf cart, and, as he passed us, looked over at my husband and joked, "Wanna race?"
Before you could say "Maillot Jaune," my husband stood up on his pedals and let it fly. His breakaway was totally unexpected by Mr. Golf Cart, who was startled as the lithe coil of steel muscles and taut tendons that is my sweet baboo hurtled past the golf cart on his way down the straightaway towards the stop sign at the end of the lane. You could say he blew the doors off the golf cart, except that golf carts don't have doors.
The fellow recovered quickly and put the pedal to the metal of his machine. The engine revved and accelerated swiftly, but he never had a chance. My husband was in fine form for L'Alpe d'Huez, standing on the pedals with his strong legs pumping mercilessly as he rocketed up to the stop sign. Braking the beach cruiser to a stop, he looked back with a saucy grin, winning the impromptu race with a football field to spare. Mr. Golf Cart Driver, in his infernal combustion machine, was apparently a good sport because he laughed and congratulated my husband on his victory.
So, in order that we will always have access to bikes on all our vacations, I have purchased a used pair (Dahon Vitesse and Strida 5) of fun folding bicycles that will fit into suitcases. The only way we could afford to take them, however, is with Southwest's "Bags Fly Free" policy. Which is one of the many reasons why, when it comes to our flying family vacations, we say, "If Southwest doesn't fly there, neither do we!"
Long live Southwest Airlines!
The Evans Family
Dear Southwest Airlines:
This letter is to thank you for your "Bags Fly Free" policy, but before I do that I must tell you a story. I apologize in advance if it's long.
Every year for the past five we have taken a family trip from our home in Colorado to that paradise of whimsy, Walt Disney World. We usually stay about 10 days, reveling in what must surely be the biggest playground in the world. Whilst there, however, we have found that we sometimes need a break from the crowds so we take an afternoon to go to Disney's campground at Fort Wilderness, rent bicycles, and tool around on the roads and bike paths there.
If you have never been to Fort Wilderness, I would say that it is quite different from the rest of "The House of Mouse." While the theme parks are, in general, filled with families from all over the world, the campground seems to be more of a big ol juicy watermelon slice of the Deep South. Grandmas and Grandpas park their huge RVs, families set up their pop-top trailers, and, since we often travel during the holidays, many campers go to legendary lengths to decorate their wooded campsites for Christmas. It's a delightful showcase of genuine "Norman Rockwell" Americana that you can't find anywhere else on Disney property.
One innovation that Disney has made to try and cut down on the traffic in the campground is to discourage vehicles driving in and out. Once you set up camp, you park your vehicle and leave it. There are buses that stop at the general store, and Disney will rent you a gasoline-powered golf cart to putter around the campground if you don't (here's the setup for the story) want to rent or didnt bring your own bicycle.
One Christmas we took the bus from our hotel to the Wilderness Lodge and rented beach cruisers. There's a lovely bike path through the forest to the campground. We even saw a couple of deer that bounded in front of us! Pedaling through the campground we had a lot of fun looking at the elaborate Christmas displays that people put up.
Now at this point I must tell you that my husband is a bit bicycle-crazy. He not only rides for exercise but makes a point of trying to ride around town on errands as much as possible. He goes to the grocery store by bike, rides to church, and even hooks up our Burley bike trailer to take our recyclables to the recycle center. So I have found that if I want to keep him happy, as the Trip Planner in the household I have to make sure that we get at least one bike ride in on every trip.
Back to our story. We had ridden for an hour or so and were lollygagging down a lane when "The Challenge" occurred. One of the campers pulled out from his site behind us in his rented golf cart, and, as he passed us, looked over at my husband and joked, "Wanna race?"
Before you could say "Maillot Jaune," my husband stood up on his pedals and let it fly. His breakaway was totally unexpected by Mr. Golf Cart, who was startled as the lithe coil of steel muscles and taut tendons that is my sweet baboo hurtled past the golf cart on his way down the straightaway towards the stop sign at the end of the lane. You could say he blew the doors off the golf cart, except that golf carts don't have doors.
The fellow recovered quickly and put the pedal to the metal of his machine. The engine revved and accelerated swiftly, but he never had a chance. My husband was in fine form for L'Alpe d'Huez, standing on the pedals with his strong legs pumping mercilessly as he rocketed up to the stop sign. Braking the beach cruiser to a stop, he looked back with a saucy grin, winning the impromptu race with a football field to spare. Mr. Golf Cart Driver, in his infernal combustion machine, was apparently a good sport because he laughed and congratulated my husband on his victory.
So, in order that we will always have access to bikes on all our vacations, I have purchased a used pair (Dahon Vitesse and Strida 5) of fun folding bicycles that will fit into suitcases. The only way we could afford to take them, however, is with Southwest's "Bags Fly Free" policy. Which is one of the many reasons why, when it comes to our flying family vacations, we say, "If Southwest doesn't fly there, neither do we!"
Long live Southwest Airlines!
The Evans Family
