We’re pretty excited about going to Disney World in a few days.
And while I have been using the word vacation, I think it’s widely understood that the presence of children — even in the world’s happiest fucking place — still does not a vacation make. Let’s call a spade a spade, because you know and I know that this whole trip is more accurately called An Overpriced Change of Scenery.
But still, it will be a world away from laundry, dishes, homework and the like. So I am totally looking forward to it.
I mean, what could possibly go wrong?
Well, if I’m being honest, I do have a few possibilities on my mind.
1) We could be detained by the Department of Homeland Security. My son has announced his intentions to bring his pirate sword onto the plane. When a simple explanation of “no weapons allowed on commercial aircraft” didn’t suffice, he considered the various ways to smuggle it on board, undetected — ninja-style. I really didn’t feel like getting into a discussion of anti-terrorism and The Patriot Act with him, so if you guys see my picture on the news with a headline like “Family of Four Placed on No-Fly List For Sword Possession,” you’ll know what happened.
2) We could end our non-vomiting streak. This is always a concern of mine, given that my kids have puked in every state down the Eastern Seaboard in the past two years. After a brief and miraculous respite from the Vacation Travel Gods last year at Disney, I fear we are overdue for some Fordeville public vomiting. After all, it’s what we do best. The real question is where. I’m thinking either on the plane, in the buffet line or in a full hotel elevator. Or maybe on Cinderella. Because we don’t mess around.
3) We could waste a shit-ton of money. If the past two years prove to be any indicator, my son will be obsessed with the only thing at Disney that is free — the monorail. This would be great news if we hadn’t already purchased all of our park passes at the cost of a home mortgage. Now, endless monorail loops will fall under the Setting Money on Fire category. I keep telling myself he’ll be over it this year. But, the reality is that he may want to spend several consecutive days — again — just circling the perimeter of the actual money-sucking attractions. Damn it, kid, you will enjoy the rides that cost me some money. Now go check out the New Fantasyland before I ground you.
4) We could set a world record. Not a good one. Yeah, Orlando is going to be — in official meteorology terms — unseasonably cool. As in, 30s and 40s overnight. My unofficial terminology for this temperature range is Fuuuccck, That’s Too Cold For Our Winter Vacation. Damn you, central Florida in March. So fickle, so unpredictable. You think that gets us off the hook for sunscreen, don’t you? Bwahahaha. You poor, naive souls. My husband will fall into the same trap, lulled into the comfort of frosty mornings and laughing at me for breaking out the SPF 5 million. He will forget that we are freaks of nature and apparently lacking any and all melanin cells. And then, at least one of my kids, and probably me, will somehow become the first person on record to sustain an ER-level sunburn in 55-degree weather. While wearing long pants and a fleece.
5) We could be mistaken for swingers. At the end of the Disney stint, we’re heading over to visit my aunt and uncle in The Villages. If you’re not familiar with this place, it’s basically a micro-city for the active 55+ population. And I do mean active. Not only do they have music piped into the streets and have a bar on every corner, but they also have the prestigious distinction of having one of the country’s highest STD rates. And if I wear the wrong shoes on the wrong day, I may inadvertently send a signal to someone cruising in a golf cart that my husband and I are, uh, looking around. This will be my first trip to The Villages, but something tells me it is begging for a future blog entry. Or a documentary.
So, as I pack our shorts and sandals jackets, sneakers and family pack of Dramamine, I’m hoping for the best. I probably won’t blog while I’m away, but you can find out if we’ve been incarcerated or picked up by swingers by following the fun on Facebook and Instagram.
Or, worst case scenario, look for us on CNN.
