10-13/Magic Carpet Ride

I sat on top of a 2 foot stone wall that lined the edges of the walkway in the Magic Kingdom. My undershirt was drenched in sweat, and the white polo above it hung wrinkled as if he came out of the dryer just a little damp. A sun shower started and I decided that I would take cover before I had a wet t-shirt contest duel with Minnie.

Motorized carts whizzed by driven by obese people, morbidly obese people, old people, and even young people. You had to wonder if the young people had any problems, or if they just didn't want to walk around.

A grandfather drove an electric wheelchair with his grandson sitting affectionately on top. They stopped and congregated with the child's mother, and assumed grandmother, donned in a Mickey Mouse Halter Top circa 1988. I tried not to make fun of the gathering since I was in the Magic Kingdom with my parents, Godparents, sister and boyfriend, Godparents son and girlfriend, daughter, and two teenage sons - at this moment taking pictures of them coming down Splash Mountain. I had no right.

Then the grandfather stopped the wheelchair, and the grandson got off his lap. "End of the line," I thought. The grandfather will just have to wat.....then with a spring in his step, grandpa jumped up and grabbed the grandson by hand and ran to the end of the ride's line as if the 4 people they would beat would mean hours of time saved.

Bewildered, I went back to holding the camera ready for my family to come down the slide. I thought about last nights flight, and how the captain thanked me over the PA for "having pull" all along the coast and getting us in early. How Zach, my Jetblue boy kept bringing me free wine the whole flight. How 3 people thanked me as they walked by my row, obviously guessing that I was "him."

Nobody. Zero. (RR)

Now, my next excitement came in the form of ice cream shaped like Mickey.

In all seriousness, the wine and food fair ( held in the convention center that formerly was home to "Body Wars" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Body_Wars ) was pretty great. I don't pretend to know or care about the "swirl and sniff" moves, but I do enjoy wines and learning about the different cultures. Up and Coming - Argentinean and Israel Wine.

The highlight of the trip was sitting next to my Godmother on the Buzz Lightyear ride, where you have to shoot lasers from your car and a real score populated on your monitor. Jack Sparrow now appears in "Pirates of the Carribean" 3 times, and our guide on the "Jungle Cruise," who looked and acted like an "ex," mockingly hit on my Godparent's very in-shape teenage son. Great.

Before I knew it I was back in the airport preparing for the flight home. I joked and spoke business with Paps on the phone, not realizing that the mother across from me was now breastfeeding her child. I had gone into a trance as we spoke about Ole Miss' tailgating tradition, and as I daydreamed about myself in seersucker, I was gazing right in the mom's direction. When I snapped out of it I became uncomfortable when I realized what had just happened.

I escaped towards the men's room, where an unusually long line had formed. In front of me an eastern European man gave his rollaway suitcase to his wife, who responded with a Polish-sounding admonition, or at least that's what I'm assuming by her tone. We made our way in, and the man checked to see if there was any vacancy in the stalls. The only open urinal was a bowl shaped protrusion, I'm assuming available for handicap users.

This wasn't an option for him, and most certainly not for me, so I followed him over to the stall area. He returned to the urinal row, since a normal one had opened up, but I stayed over in the other section. Realizing that there was going to be no room over there for a while, I turned back.

The eastern European was now set up in the middle of the pack with his shorts around his ankles, and his blue briefs pulled down to around his thighs. I decided to do the "look at my watch and realize I need to go do something else" routine, and headed out the door.

It was almost time to board the plane, so I just hid in the corner listening to the Passion Pit's "Eyes Like Candles," until it had no meaning. It was time to go home more tired than when I had arrived.

I need a vacation.

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