About a year ago, Kendall, Alex, and I (carrying a just-about-to-debut Bianca) joined my sisters, their families, and my father for a week of kid-friendly indulgences in Orlando.
Ah, Orlando: Land of minivans, not-so-inclusive all-inclusive resorts, and a giant pre-pubescent talking mouse. But don't be fooled. Underneath the gleaming facade lies a gritty, tourist-eat-tourist sub-culture of vice. When we stopped at a "discount ticket" booth on Orlando's main drag, we were referred to a man named "Charly" down the street, who then referred us to "Giovanni" a block down. Giovanni quickly became the most memorable part of our trip. Giovanni was a discount theme-park ticket vendor (perhaps "dealer" is the better word?) from New Jersey who only accepted cash and, at one point, brandished his weapon in front of us to assure us that he could protect his ticket stash. Needless to say, we advise that you not try to buy "discount tickets" during your next trip to Orlando.
Alex was so excited that, when we arrived at Disney World, he caught a glimpse of the flying Dumbo ride and wandered off toward the levitating pachyderms while the rest of us waited in line for Peter Pan. Upon noticing that my child was missing, I indulged in a brief crisis fueled by pregnancy hormones. We found him in short order. He explained he wanted to ride Dumbo. Why, of course.
Alex's most memorable moment (which he still remembers) was meeting Mickey and Minnie at their house in Toontown. Not coincidentally, my most memorable moment was waiting in line for one hour and forty-five minutes in Toontown to spend two minutes with two dis-illusioned actors dressed in mouse costumes:
My father and I were charged with keeping track of the five children that were too short to ride Space Mountain, Splash Mountain, and such:
And we also went to Sea World. There's not much to say about that. There were whales and dolphins.
Stay tuned for more very out-dated blog posts!