"Gee, that's Swell" or "Yes, I'm listening."
Soon hubby returns from the conference and after some texting with the girls, who are now deeply engulfed in magic, asks what our plans are. He's hungry. My plan was to do a monorail resort pub crawl in place of dinner and when Our oldest daughter arrived, she could join us. I knew we'd need time to talk with her. She'd recently had a medical emergency requiring surgery (she's fine now) and she was still upset about the big boyfriend breakup.
I'd researched this pub crawl idea and my plan was to first take the boat to the Wilderness lodge to enjoy the much talked-about beer cheese fondue and, perhaps when we finished there, DD 1 will have arrived and the three of us would continue around the monorail resort lounges sampling appetizers and beverages. Except, suddenly, DH, who just loves for me to prepare a plan (really) doesn't want to go there. "Cheese fondue? No way!" We look at the menu using
MDE and nothing looks good to him. He's very picky about food. Everything looks good to me.
"Fine. I announce, "We're going to start at the G Flo." My daughter says I say G Flo instead of Grand Floridian when I'm trying to "be all cool and seem like I'm fluent in Disney." I don't even realize I say it. I think I picked it up on the Dis.
We monorail to the G Flo and, as we enter, I have a bit of asthma which triggers an H Flo. Which is what I call Hot Flashes when I'm trying to be all cool and fluent in being a cranky old b...lady.
We go to that lounge behind the band and get the charcuterie and a shrimp thing- which is on my allergy hot list. Oh well. It's not Dole Whip dangerous. It only makes me cough. So far. These items, while tasty, turn out to be entirely too much salt and, though it's not that crowded, we can't seem to get a second round of drinks. Near death, we finally get out of there and are about to head out to look for water for our powdery throats when we see the monorail is out front. Instead we dash out and hop on. And sit. And wait. And wait. And we are soooo thirsty. I think my husband is eyeballing a kid's sippy cup. It seems there is a medical emergency out near the bus area and Monorail hangs back for that. I'm thinking the guy probably passed out from severe thirst after the charcuterie saltierie platter.
Meanwhile, I become convinced that DD1 will arrive at the CR at any moment and we decide to put the pub crawl on hold until we meet up with her and we head back to the CR when the monorail finally moves.
Once back at the hotel, we lay on the bed just because. The curtains are open and from the bed we see the Electrical Water Pageant heading out to wherever the official start point is. The serpent winks. And no, that's not some dirty reference to empty nester activities. We just waited.
He fell asleep.
I checked my texts:
"New fantasy land is awesome."
"I want to be Ariel. Do you think you have to have red hair?"
"Mom, I'm about an hour away. Got a late start. Sorry"
"I'm in freakin love with the dole whip man."
"K is in love with the Dole Whip man. You should have seen the dole whip he gave her. It was the size of her head. It was gross. "
" jealous much?"
(She does have a huge head, I think, but don't text.)
My awesome nails are chipped. I think about repairing them but doze off instead.
I wake up when my phone rings. DD1 has arrived and is lost in the parking lot. She's a project manager and brilliant engineer. But she's lost in the parking lot.
I wake up DH and we walk outside, toward the lake/waterway behind the garden wing. DH is on the phone with her, directing her to the back parking lot which is just steps from our room. The darkened Electrical Water Pageant, having already performed, no-doubt delighting tens of thousands, cruises dutifully past us. Silent. Smirking.
I silently and secretly called the beloved, whimsical Electrical water pageant a very, very bad name.
At this late hour, DD just wants to get food and sleep. We head up to the Contempo Cafe and order her a meal and we refill our mugs. We listen as well as we can as she tells us details about her surgery and her days of agonizing sickness and of the ex boyfriend who has no time for a girlfriend who has surgery and agony. We listen to tales of co-workers and work projects and apartment maintenance. But the truth is, "under the sea" is going through my head and probably his too and I am only able to digest half of what she's talking about but I'm fully aware that my stomach is only half wanting to digest salty, chewy appetizers. We head back to the room, sipping iced tea, and get DD1 settled in and we borrow her still new-smelling Dodge Challenger which, for some reason, causes my husband to drive like a jerk. We head to the Hess station to buy cases of bottled water and soda. And we each down a bottle of water on the way back. We get ready for bed as we continue to lend sympathetic ears and read texts like, "What are you guys doing?" "We are hungry." "All the food places are closed except for snack places."
At some point, I'm awakened by a phone call. It's 1:30 am.
"The monorail stopped running and we had to walk back and our magic bands won't open the hotel!"
I know what this means. Throughout the week, we'd found that our magic bands only sporadically opened the exterior door to the garden wing which is locked after 11. We are told this is due to us not holding it in place properly. However, even removing a band and holding it in place for several seconds sometimes does not work. I head down the hallway, chugging water from my mug on the way. The girls are still giddy and cheer me up with chatter of crazy photo pass posing on a nearly empty Main Street, the cute Dole Whip guy, Enchanted, late-night Tales with Belle and how great it is to be away from snowy Indiana and wearing flip flops again.
I refill my mug and gulp more water. It may not have been a particularly magical day but as I take it all in and see my daughters hugging their big sister, the suitcases that have regurgitated flip flops, hair straighteners and tank tops all over the floor and my dry-mouthed husband, snoring and sprawled in the middle of our bed, I couldn't be happier.