One of the most disconcerting things about moving to a new state is the change in local channels. In Chicago, I knew the trio of CBS channel 2, NBC channel 5, and ABC channel 7, along with independents WGN channel 9 (which is now a Superstation), PBS channel 11, and WFLD channel 32 (now Fox). Others, like channels 44, 60, and 66, flitted in and out of existence, but I could always count on 2, 5, 7, 9, 11, and 32 from the dark, pre-cable days all the way up to the present.
We had great local programming like B. J. and his Cartoon Town, featuring such memorable characters as Town Monument Blob, Weird, Mother Plumtree, Suggestion Box, and the ever popular smoke-spewing Dirty Dragon. B. J. was a shameless shill for Maurice Lenell cookies; my husband's sister won some sort of show-affiliated contest, earning their family a year's supply.
We also had Family Classics with Frazier Thomas, a Sunday afternoon staple in the Windy City. Frazier would introduce a wholesome movie like "Lassie Come Home" or "Boys Town." He also hosted the ever-popular "Garfield Goose and Friends," which featured scary puppets interspersed with scary cartoons like "Clutch Cargo." You may have seen a clip of CC on "Pulp Fiction." If not, imagine totally static cartoon people with a freaky human mouth as the only moving part. Click here to see for yourself, but don't blame me for the nightmares.
In adulthood, I had my list of staple shows on the local networks too. Sure we had a bajillion cable channels, but I am addicted to Simpsons reruns and court shows and those are found on the networks. I got addicted to court shows back in the days when Judge Wapner was the only game in town. Nowadays the TV courtrooms are run like a Jerry Springer episode, but back then Wapner ran a tight ship, assisted by intrepid baliff Rusty.
Now the shows have proliferated into a dizzying array, and many try to have some sort of unique twist. You have Judge Judy, the bitchy female. You have Judge Mathis and Judge Joe Brown, both African-Americans. You have openly gay and flamboyant Judge David Young. There's Judge Alex and Cristina's Court, too, but neither of them seem to have any particular schtick. And of course People's Court is still alive and well, currently led by Judge Marilyn.
Upon moving to Celebration, I had to learn the new numbers of all the local channels (or, more accurately, their position on the cable dial). Since I work at home, I leave the TV on for background noise so I was anxious to find a suitable local backdrop. Thank goodness the Court Show Contingent is alive and well on Orlando television. Starting at 10 a.m., you can watch straight through till 7 p.m. with only one gap. Technically it's not a gap, since it's considered a court show: Divorce Court from 2-3 p.m. But for me, it's not a real court show if it's not full of bizarre small claims cases. I don't want to tune in to heard estranged spouses laying into each other; after all, I'm a counselor and that's too much like work!
The court shows are always reliable; you can count on at least one dog attack case per week, as well as mutiple feuding broken-up couples where one claims they made a loan while the other swears up and down that it was a gift. You can count on a cell phone related case, too, where some poor schuck let a friend or former lover put their phone in his or her name. Other common disputes involve car accidents, ruined weddings, and the like.
I do have to flip between the two Fox affiliates in order to see the whole block, but that's not much of a problem. At 7, when Judge Judge finally goes off the air, an hour of the Simpsons start so I have a suitable TV backdrop all the way to 8 p.m. At 8 I become a network orphan, wandering through the cable environs in a search for Family Guy or Cops reruns or an Animal Cops episode, depending on the day of the week.
Maybe I should try to shift myself to more mainstream tastes, like CSI (I fully expect a 24-hour all CSI channel to crop up soon). But I can't help it; I've always had a soft spot for court shows and I think I always will. We all have to have our guilty little pleasure; I'll admit that I used to love the Weekly World News until it transcended all pretense of reality and then mercifully stopped publication. Now it's all about courtroom eye candy, and happily the Orlando channels make sure I get a whopping dose every day.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Early and Late
It might sound like the name of a convenience store, but Early and Late is actually my theme park survivial strategy now that we're in the middle of the peak season. Going at any other time is asking to be caught in the midst of crowds that rival a Japanese commuter train. Fastpasses for the popular rides disappear by noon, and wait times soar higher than a loose Mickey balloon.
If you get to a park first thing in the morning, you can grab a Fastpass for one of the must-sees, like Soarin' at Epcot or Toy Story Mania at Disney Hollywood Studio. My personal mission is usually to get to Epcot for rope drop, position myself to head directly to Soarin', and to catch a quick ride before grabbing that precious Fastpass. A lot of people go for the FP first, but in the time that they are getting it the line swells from 0 to 30 minutes or more. If you ride first, you can usually still get a decent return time, meaning that you've worked in two rides instead of just one.
On a morning not too long ago, I lucked out and managed three rides. I was there right at rope drop, in a prime position right at the front. I joined the massive pack of humanity in following the phlanx of Cast Members over to the Land pavillion, down the stairs, and to the Soarin' queue. So many people bailed to the Fastpass machines that I was literally the second person in line, with a kid in front of me (not sure where his parents were...maybe sleeping back at the hotel after a night of partying at Pleasure Island?).
As we marched down to the farthest loading area, I noticed a group of smiling Dream Team members waiting for us. Mind you, I've seen them many, many times before but it's always been when they were giving away something to the car in front of me or behind me on whatever ride I happened to be on. This time, they said, "Lucky! First ones to ride. And you're even more lucky because you win a prize."
My brain, which never fires on all its cylinders early in the morning anyway, was having a hard time comprehending this turn of events. They handed out Dream Fastpasses to everyone in our loading area. I accepted mine speechlessly...I'm not even sure I was able to mumble out a "thank you." I had seen so many guests wearing this coveted prize around their necks over the last year and a half. Now, finally, I had joined their ranks.
After my ride, I rushed over to the Fastpass machines and got one for a doable return time. Then I checked out the standby line, but it had already surpasses any semblence of reason. Oh well, no matter...I just snapped off my Dream Fastpass time and took another quick spin. Pure Heaven! Then I killed time on Test Track and a couple of the other rides till it was time for my regular Fastpass and headed home in great contentment, having had a surprise bonus ride.
Since I'm not much of an early bird, another trick I've learned is to head to Epcot at closing time, particularly on the days when the temperatures rival a furnace and the humidity requires you to dog paddle rathter than walk. All but the most hardy souls usually drop out, and most of those who remain are at World Showcase for Illuminations. Thus you might find a 30 minute line for Soarin' as opposed to an hour and a half earlier on a peak season day.
It's nice to be local because I can just pop in the car and head over at closing time. If I go a little earlier, I can fit in Spaceship Earth and a single rider spin on Test Track. Sadly, SSE has lost quite a bit of its appeal for me since they dumbed down the narration. Instead of Jeremy Irons' deep voice intoning an intelligent script, Judy Dench yammers lines like, "Wasn't it easy to learn your ABCs? Thank the Phonecians" or "Wouldn't it be nice to have a computer in your house? Problem is, they're as big as your house!" (Referring to the old models.) While I'm paraphrasing, the actual lines are just as lame.
But hey, you get a personalized Esurance-style commercial at the end, so I guess that's a bonus. I'll have to ride it at least a few more times so I can run through all the different selection options and see the different versions.
I thought that rainy days might make my end-of-day plan even more successful, but unfortunately it's just the opposite. If it's been raining for most of the day, apparently all the crowds that were holed up in their hotel rooms will flock to the parks as soon as it stops, no matter how late that might be. At Epcot, they realize they'd have to really hustle to make it to the back of the park for Illuminations so instead they flock in an endless herd of sheeple to Soarin'. After trying this strategy once, I quickly learned that it's pointless...better to stick to the hot, sunny days where the crowd is apparently thinned out by heat stroke by day's end.
Soon enough summer will be a fleeting memory, and the September lull will be here. In the meantime, I'll stick to my early and late policy; while it's not as much fun as marathon riding, at least it's enough of my "fix" to keep me from going into withdrawal symptoms.
If you get to a park first thing in the morning, you can grab a Fastpass for one of the must-sees, like Soarin' at Epcot or Toy Story Mania at Disney Hollywood Studio. My personal mission is usually to get to Epcot for rope drop, position myself to head directly to Soarin', and to catch a quick ride before grabbing that precious Fastpass. A lot of people go for the FP first, but in the time that they are getting it the line swells from 0 to 30 minutes or more. If you ride first, you can usually still get a decent return time, meaning that you've worked in two rides instead of just one.
On a morning not too long ago, I lucked out and managed three rides. I was there right at rope drop, in a prime position right at the front. I joined the massive pack of humanity in following the phlanx of Cast Members over to the Land pavillion, down the stairs, and to the Soarin' queue. So many people bailed to the Fastpass machines that I was literally the second person in line, with a kid in front of me (not sure where his parents were...maybe sleeping back at the hotel after a night of partying at Pleasure Island?).
As we marched down to the farthest loading area, I noticed a group of smiling Dream Team members waiting for us. Mind you, I've seen them many, many times before but it's always been when they were giving away something to the car in front of me or behind me on whatever ride I happened to be on. This time, they said, "Lucky! First ones to ride. And you're even more lucky because you win a prize."
My brain, which never fires on all its cylinders early in the morning anyway, was having a hard time comprehending this turn of events. They handed out Dream Fastpasses to everyone in our loading area. I accepted mine speechlessly...I'm not even sure I was able to mumble out a "thank you." I had seen so many guests wearing this coveted prize around their necks over the last year and a half. Now, finally, I had joined their ranks.
After my ride, I rushed over to the Fastpass machines and got one for a doable return time. Then I checked out the standby line, but it had already surpasses any semblence of reason. Oh well, no matter...I just snapped off my Dream Fastpass time and took another quick spin. Pure Heaven! Then I killed time on Test Track and a couple of the other rides till it was time for my regular Fastpass and headed home in great contentment, having had a surprise bonus ride.
Since I'm not much of an early bird, another trick I've learned is to head to Epcot at closing time, particularly on the days when the temperatures rival a furnace and the humidity requires you to dog paddle rathter than walk. All but the most hardy souls usually drop out, and most of those who remain are at World Showcase for Illuminations. Thus you might find a 30 minute line for Soarin' as opposed to an hour and a half earlier on a peak season day.
It's nice to be local because I can just pop in the car and head over at closing time. If I go a little earlier, I can fit in Spaceship Earth and a single rider spin on Test Track. Sadly, SSE has lost quite a bit of its appeal for me since they dumbed down the narration. Instead of Jeremy Irons' deep voice intoning an intelligent script, Judy Dench yammers lines like, "Wasn't it easy to learn your ABCs? Thank the Phonecians" or "Wouldn't it be nice to have a computer in your house? Problem is, they're as big as your house!" (Referring to the old models.) While I'm paraphrasing, the actual lines are just as lame.
But hey, you get a personalized Esurance-style commercial at the end, so I guess that's a bonus. I'll have to ride it at least a few more times so I can run through all the different selection options and see the different versions.
I thought that rainy days might make my end-of-day plan even more successful, but unfortunately it's just the opposite. If it's been raining for most of the day, apparently all the crowds that were holed up in their hotel rooms will flock to the parks as soon as it stops, no matter how late that might be. At Epcot, they realize they'd have to really hustle to make it to the back of the park for Illuminations so instead they flock in an endless herd of sheeple to Soarin'. After trying this strategy once, I quickly learned that it's pointless...better to stick to the hot, sunny days where the crowd is apparently thinned out by heat stroke by day's end.
Soon enough summer will be a fleeting memory, and the September lull will be here. In the meantime, I'll stick to my early and late policy; while it's not as much fun as marathon riding, at least it's enough of my "fix" to keep me from going into withdrawal symptoms.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Universal Takes Care of Their Passholders...Sort of
Ever since we got our Universal Premier Pass, we've swung over to the Darkside of the Other Orlando theme parks. It's hard to stand in long lines at Disney World or work to maximize the Fastpass system when we can just go to Universal after 4 p.m. and ride to our heart's content in the Express Lines after leaving our car in the valet lot for free.
Granted, Universal doesn't have Soarin', but I love the Mummy, Men in Black, and the Simpsons at the Studio, plus my boy Christopher Walken starts in Disaster now, and Terminator is still Orlando's best 3-D show. There is less at Islands of Adventure, but I do love Hulk and Spiderman.
How nice it would be for Disney to offer an equivalent pass with some sort of Fastpass premium. Since they don't, Universal gets a much bigger chunk of our discretionary entertainment dollars. When we go there, we almost always eat too and I drop a few bucks on the carnival games, so they're winning some dollars away from the Mouse.
Universal also has some nice passholder events. Granted, Disney usually has passholder previews of its new rides, but Universal goes beyond that. Last year they had an event for Halloween Horror Nights, and today they had a meet and greet with Brendan Fraser in conjunction with the new Mummy movie. Since my poor husband was in Chicago (well, not so "poor," since he was attending a NASCAR event), I went solo. It's a shame because I tend to hate crowded celebrity events. The excitement is lost on me; he would have enjoyed it so much more. But I went because they advertised a free t-shirt, and also because I could. At the very least, I figured it would make a good blog entry.
I dutifully signed up beforehand online and brought a printout of my reservation. I had some lunch, then headed over to Universal where sign-up was supposed to start at 3 p.m., with the event itself kicking off at 4. I figured it was going to be a major upchuck, since I was still having post-traumatic stress attacks from the HHN event. At that one, it was so disorganized that the team members sent a huge clot of passholders the wrong way to one of the haunted house entrances. That might not seem like a big deal unless you know that the correct entrance was far far far way. There was a lot of cursing and grumbling, but I also heard people saying that the previous year's event had been even more of a mess.
Still, it was worth it to get a head start on the houses, since the HHN crowds tend to be outrageous. There was a free gift, too, but that turned out to just be an advertising button.
Given the rampant disorganization at Halloween, I figured the same would hold true for Brendan. I arrived at 3 p.m. and discovered a never-ending line already snaking in an interesting pattern. I asked two team members whether it was the correct line for people who had RSVPed and was told that it was indeed. I asked the people at the end of the line, and they confirmed that they'd been told the same thing. Still, I had a hinky feeling...at Universal, when you're told something at a passholders event, it only has a 50% chance of being true. I asked a third team member, who confirmed once again that I was in the right place, but my suspicions were still not tamed.
The line continued to grow like the giant snake firework on "South Park." Hoochie Mama and her troop tried to cut the line in front of the people in front of me. They just did under-the-breath mumbling, but my South Side Chicago brass cojones know no such restraint. I point out the end in no uncertain terms, and after protesting that she was just "looking for someone to ask a question," she removed her entourage and disappeared off in the crowd.
Other than that, the line was relatively peaceful, probably because everyone was ready to collapse from the heat. The people behind me kept complaining about how much they needed some water, but when a team member selling ice cold bottles came by they didn't take advantage. They just went on and on with the complaints...I think they enjoyed having something to yammer about. I had come prepared with my own supply of H20 because I knew it was going to be a vicious 90+ degree afternoon.
The line appeared to be moving sporadically towards the sound stage, but suddenly my worst fears were realized. A team member came through, telling us we were all in the wrong line because we should already have been checked in and gotten our hand stamps. Huh? Me and all the people around me started up with a "No freakin' way!" rumble. Another person came through and said the same thing, but we all stayed in the line as it continued to inch forward towards the Promised Land of Air Conditioning inside the sound stage.
There was a flurry of major confusion at the entrance; I'm still not sure what it was all about, but I thrust my email at someone, got my mark, and hustled inside. The free t-shirts were given out as you entered, and apparently there were also free drinks too, but I skipped the refreshments in favor of trying to get a spot close enough to the stage to snap a few photos. It was already a madhouse, but I managed to get a clean sightline. All around me, people packed in like cattle in a slaughter pen. I pitied anyone who might be claustrophobic, as once you had staked out your spot you were pretty much pinned in by a wall of humanity.
There were stilt walkers for pre-entertainment, as you can see in the photo below:
I'm not a big stiltwalker fan ever since once snuck up on me at the entrance to the Mummy ride and nearly made me wet my pants. Hubby still busts a gut about that one.
I briefly toyed with the idea of bailing out. Would it really be worth standing around for another half hour just to catch a glimpse of Brendan? If it were Johnny Depp, there would be no question! But I'd already braved the worst of it, so I decided to stick around.
There were big screens showing clips about the ride and movie to make the time go a little faster. At the very least, the air conditioning felt soooo good! Finally 4 p.m. rolled around, and was Brendan was introduced (see below):
We saw a clip of the new Mummy movie while he provided a hilarious commentary from the stage. Meanwhile, I snapped a slew of photos in the hopes that at least a few would come out. As you can see by the one below, some are pretty decent:
Others were in hyper photo mode, too. I'm surprised the poor man wasn't blinded by all the flashes. According to the pre-material, there was supposed to be a question and answer session and trivia contest. Neither of those things materialized, but they did award a trip to the movie premiere in California to one lucky attendee whose free t-shirt had a red tag.
Afterwards, Brendan went to pose by a car for more photos. I worked my way over, but it just didn't seem worth another crowd scene so I bailed out before I got close enough for a shot.
On the way out, I answered a brief survey about my experience, then hustled to get to the parking lot before the storm that was brewing had a chance to drench me. I watched the gray clouds and lightning move in, but I made it into Kitt and onto I-4 before the Heavens let loose.
All in all, it was a balls-up but I figured it would be so what the heck. It was kind of fun in a madhouse sort of way. I guess it would be better if I were a star-struck sort, but the celebrity worship gene is pretty much missing in me (Johnny Depp and Harrison Ford excepted). I would be way more excited to meet Ray Bradbury than most famous actors.
But it was fun to see Brendan and hear his humorous commentary, and I got a free shirt to boot...that's a lot better than the HHN button. Now, whenever I ride the Mummy and see him in that scene at the end, I can say, "Hey, I saw that guy!"
Granted, Universal doesn't have Soarin', but I love the Mummy, Men in Black, and the Simpsons at the Studio, plus my boy Christopher Walken starts in Disaster now, and Terminator is still Orlando's best 3-D show. There is less at Islands of Adventure, but I do love Hulk and Spiderman.
How nice it would be for Disney to offer an equivalent pass with some sort of Fastpass premium. Since they don't, Universal gets a much bigger chunk of our discretionary entertainment dollars. When we go there, we almost always eat too and I drop a few bucks on the carnival games, so they're winning some dollars away from the Mouse.
Universal also has some nice passholder events. Granted, Disney usually has passholder previews of its new rides, but Universal goes beyond that. Last year they had an event for Halloween Horror Nights, and today they had a meet and greet with Brendan Fraser in conjunction with the new Mummy movie. Since my poor husband was in Chicago (well, not so "poor," since he was attending a NASCAR event), I went solo. It's a shame because I tend to hate crowded celebrity events. The excitement is lost on me; he would have enjoyed it so much more. But I went because they advertised a free t-shirt, and also because I could. At the very least, I figured it would make a good blog entry.
I dutifully signed up beforehand online and brought a printout of my reservation. I had some lunch, then headed over to Universal where sign-up was supposed to start at 3 p.m., with the event itself kicking off at 4. I figured it was going to be a major upchuck, since I was still having post-traumatic stress attacks from the HHN event. At that one, it was so disorganized that the team members sent a huge clot of passholders the wrong way to one of the haunted house entrances. That might not seem like a big deal unless you know that the correct entrance was far far far way. There was a lot of cursing and grumbling, but I also heard people saying that the previous year's event had been even more of a mess.
Still, it was worth it to get a head start on the houses, since the HHN crowds tend to be outrageous. There was a free gift, too, but that turned out to just be an advertising button.
Given the rampant disorganization at Halloween, I figured the same would hold true for Brendan. I arrived at 3 p.m. and discovered a never-ending line already snaking in an interesting pattern. I asked two team members whether it was the correct line for people who had RSVPed and was told that it was indeed. I asked the people at the end of the line, and they confirmed that they'd been told the same thing. Still, I had a hinky feeling...at Universal, when you're told something at a passholders event, it only has a 50% chance of being true. I asked a third team member, who confirmed once again that I was in the right place, but my suspicions were still not tamed.
The line continued to grow like the giant snake firework on "South Park." Hoochie Mama and her troop tried to cut the line in front of the people in front of me. They just did under-the-breath mumbling, but my South Side Chicago brass cojones know no such restraint. I point out the end in no uncertain terms, and after protesting that she was just "looking for someone to ask a question," she removed her entourage and disappeared off in the crowd.
Other than that, the line was relatively peaceful, probably because everyone was ready to collapse from the heat. The people behind me kept complaining about how much they needed some water, but when a team member selling ice cold bottles came by they didn't take advantage. They just went on and on with the complaints...I think they enjoyed having something to yammer about. I had come prepared with my own supply of H20 because I knew it was going to be a vicious 90+ degree afternoon.
The line appeared to be moving sporadically towards the sound stage, but suddenly my worst fears were realized. A team member came through, telling us we were all in the wrong line because we should already have been checked in and gotten our hand stamps. Huh? Me and all the people around me started up with a "No freakin' way!" rumble. Another person came through and said the same thing, but we all stayed in the line as it continued to inch forward towards the Promised Land of Air Conditioning inside the sound stage.
There was a flurry of major confusion at the entrance; I'm still not sure what it was all about, but I thrust my email at someone, got my mark, and hustled inside. The free t-shirts were given out as you entered, and apparently there were also free drinks too, but I skipped the refreshments in favor of trying to get a spot close enough to the stage to snap a few photos. It was already a madhouse, but I managed to get a clean sightline. All around me, people packed in like cattle in a slaughter pen. I pitied anyone who might be claustrophobic, as once you had staked out your spot you were pretty much pinned in by a wall of humanity.
There were stilt walkers for pre-entertainment, as you can see in the photo below:
I'm not a big stiltwalker fan ever since once snuck up on me at the entrance to the Mummy ride and nearly made me wet my pants. Hubby still busts a gut about that one.
I briefly toyed with the idea of bailing out. Would it really be worth standing around for another half hour just to catch a glimpse of Brendan? If it were Johnny Depp, there would be no question! But I'd already braved the worst of it, so I decided to stick around.
There were big screens showing clips about the ride and movie to make the time go a little faster. At the very least, the air conditioning felt soooo good! Finally 4 p.m. rolled around, and was Brendan was introduced (see below):
We saw a clip of the new Mummy movie while he provided a hilarious commentary from the stage. Meanwhile, I snapped a slew of photos in the hopes that at least a few would come out. As you can see by the one below, some are pretty decent:
Others were in hyper photo mode, too. I'm surprised the poor man wasn't blinded by all the flashes. According to the pre-material, there was supposed to be a question and answer session and trivia contest. Neither of those things materialized, but they did award a trip to the movie premiere in California to one lucky attendee whose free t-shirt had a red tag.
Afterwards, Brendan went to pose by a car for more photos. I worked my way over, but it just didn't seem worth another crowd scene so I bailed out before I got close enough for a shot.
On the way out, I answered a brief survey about my experience, then hustled to get to the parking lot before the storm that was brewing had a chance to drench me. I watched the gray clouds and lightning move in, but I made it into Kitt and onto I-4 before the Heavens let loose.
All in all, it was a balls-up but I figured it would be so what the heck. It was kind of fun in a madhouse sort of way. I guess it would be better if I were a star-struck sort, but the celebrity worship gene is pretty much missing in me (Johnny Depp and Harrison Ford excepted). I would be way more excited to meet Ray Bradbury than most famous actors.
But it was fun to see Brendan and hear his humorous commentary, and I got a free shirt to boot...that's a lot better than the HHN button. Now, whenever I ride the Mummy and see him in that scene at the end, I can say, "Hey, I saw that guy!"
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Gay Days 2008
This post is a bit of a journey back in time, since Gay Days takes place early in June. Unfortunately, that very night was the evening I descended into Sinus Infection Hell, so I didn't get the entry finished and posted in a timely fashion. Here it is, a month late but finally done.
On the first Saturday in June, an abundance of red shirted guests descend upon the Magic Kingdom. It's a sure sign that Gay Days has rolled around yet again. Gay Days started as a one day event, but now it has expanded into a whirlwind week for gay/lesbian visitors and their families and friends to vacation openly in Orlando. But of all the goings-on, the event at the Magic Kingdom remains one of the most visible. Scarlet shirts blaze in all their glory on the vast majority of guests, and you'll see all manner of gay and lesbian couples and often their children too.
My husband and I attended last year for the first time ever. My curiosity had been piqued by the wild (often bordering on hysterical) descriptions posted online by religious fanatics. They described terrifying goings-on from “group urination” (I'm still not quite sure what that means) to blatant recruitment of youngsters into the ominous sounding “deviant homosexual lifestyle” behind Cinderella's castle. Since I am a therapist and work with many gay and lesbian clients, and since every one has known since early on that they were gay, I'm not sure how someone could be “recruited” into something that is an inborn trait. They also decried the blatant public displays of affection (PDAs) that would burn out the eyes of any God-fearing homophobe.
I'm not sure which Magic Kingdom the paranoid naysayers visited, but apparently it wasn't the one here in Orlando. Last year's Gay Days event was quite low key, with an added bonus of low crowd density due to iffy weather, so we spend a great day enjoying the park. Thus I was quite eager to make a return trip this year as my last blast before the peak season crowds arrived.
Last year, we got there not long after the park opened. This year that wasn't happening because hubby's Friday flight from Chicago was delayed by two hours. It comes in late to begin with, so with the delay we didn't return to Celebration till the wee hours. Neither of us was particularly eager to stir out of bed any too early the next morning.
We finally managed to get up and functional and reach the Magic Kingdom a little before noon. The moment we hit the gate area, I realized that the crowd density was waaaay worse than 2007. It was a sunny (and hot!) day, and the sunshine had drawn out a high number of “regular” tourists in addition to the Gay Days participants. Oh well, we figured it will still be fun to walk around and soak up the ambiance until our 5:30 dinner reservation at Artist Point. Even though I'm straight, I like to go and show my support. Hubby wore a red shirt, and I donned my typical Gay Days wear: a white t-shirt with a rainbow that declares, “Straight But Not Narrow.”
Our first stop was to get Fast Passes at Space Mountain, which had something like an hour standby wait. Then we did Wedway, Carousel of Progress, Buzz Lightyear, and the Monsters Inc. Laugh Floor. By that time, it was time to use our Fastpasses, but Space Mountain had broken down. We killed some time waiting for the Astro Orbiter, one of the slowest loading rides known to mankind, then returned to Space. Apparently it was functioning again, and we made it almost all the way to the loading platform before the stinkin' thing went 101 again. Sigh! At that point, we had waited longer than a typical Fastpass wait for nothing, so I decided to go to Guest Services to see if they'd swap out our Fastpasses and let us ride Big Thunder Mountain instead.
By now, it was almost time for the 3 p.m. parade, which is a HUGE highlight of Gay Days. I had no desire to get trapped on the parade route, which would prevent us from getting to the rides. Granted, it's pretty cool to watch the parade and the enthusiasm of the red-shirted audience, but we'd seen it last year and this year I was more interested in rides. Thus we hightailed it to City Hall and managed to do the swap before we got penned in. Next it was off to Adventureland, which would give us unblocked access to Frontierland and Big Thunder Mountain. First we stopped at Sunshine Tree Terrace or whatever it's called. All I know is that is has the tastiest treat to be found anywhere in the Magic Kingdom: a vanilla ice cream and frozen orange juice swirl cone. Mmmmmmmm! I was halfway to heat stroke from a combination of the sun and a raging sinus infection that was slowly tightening its grasp on me, so the ice cream tasted like heaven and soothed my scratchy throat.
While we were waiting in line, a very enthusiastic red shirted guy came bounding over to ask if he could take my picture while holding his Ru Paul doll. He was an absolute riot; if you've ever seen “Revenge of the Nerds,” he would have totally reminded you of Lamar. Apparently he liked my shirt, so I posed dutifully with Ru Paul in hand. Then he bounded off, happily looking for other photo ops.
He wasn't the only one who liked my shirt. It turned out to be a great conversation starter, and even those who didn't say anything to me directly often made comments among themselves about how much they liked the slogan. I think it's important for straight supporters of gay rights to be visible with their support, especially in a state where the ominous Amendment Two looms on the ballot. It is known quite misleadingly as the “Florida Marriage Protection Act” but it might as well be called the “Let's Discriminate Against An Entire Class of People Act...And While We're At It, Let's Screw Senior Citizens Who Live Together Too.” Personally I'm just not all that concerned about who wants to marry who. If loving gay couples want to tie the knot, why should I care or stand in the way? And I hate it when it's framed as a “Christian” issue because I'm a Christian myself, but as far as I can see, a) Jesus did not promote discrimination; and b) religious views have no place being used as the basis for law in the United States.
I did get one glare from a guy carrying his kid who appeared to be rather offended by my slogan, but he didn't say anything directly to me. Really, what COULD he say? How do you defend prejudice without sounding like an idiot?
We had fun chatting with quite a few groups of gay and lesbian park-goers. Once again I never saw any outrageous PDAs. Well, actually I take that back. Both hubby and I saw separate graphic displays, but both times they were being committed by hetro couples who apparently were doing dental exams with their tongues. Any parent, hetro or gay, would have no doubt covered their kiddies' eyes if they were in the vicinity.
We were going to ride Pirates of the Caribbean on the way to Big Thunder, but it was closed. “Oh, look!” cried hubby! “The Jungle Cruise is walk-on!” Foolishly I believed him and followed him into what turned out to be the Neverending Queue Line from Hell. I'm not quite sure how he missed the herd of humanity, but he swore that it had LOOKED like it was walk-on.
Oh well, our wait was rewarded by a riotously funny skipper. Interestingly enough, there was even one child on our boat. I think this is the first time I've ever ridden the Jungle Cruise on an all-adult vessel. I imagine that on Gay Days the crowd has less kids than usual, although I did notice a much higher percentage overall of gay and lesbian couples with their children. Far from being the raucous, obscene party that some insist on portraying it as, it's becoming more of a family event. Sure, there are plenty of childless couples too but I imagine a part of that is due to the archaic laws preventing gay and lesbian couples from adopting in so many areas. If that ever changes, I suspect that the number of families at Gay Days will multiply accordingly.
Next up it was Big Thunder Mountain, which was running in fine form. That is to say, it whipped me around like piece of china in an uncushioned wooden crate. By the time that was done, we were hoping to get in a last ride on the Haunted Mansion before going to dinner, but the line was 45 minutes and stretched out all the way to the main walkway. Reluctantly, we hiked to Toontown and hopped on the train for a final ride that would take us to the Main Street Station. I was amazed at how quickly the time had passed and sad that we didn't get any more rides, but that was tempered by the knowledge that a delicious meal lay just ahead.
Since I was feeling rather peaked, and my stuffed up sinuses were inhibiting my taste buds, I skipped the Copper River Salmon in favor of appetizers (venison spring rolls, a cheese plate, and the most godly mushroom soup ever to grace the earth). Hubby had mussels and salmon; I had a taste of his fish, and even my impaired sense of taste could tell that it was as delicious as ever. I topped my meal off with a selection of ice cream (not on the menu, but they'll do it if you ask), and then we headed home to conclude our second annual Gay Days visit. That's two years now that I've been unable to find the horror so graphically portrayed by homophobic paranoiacs. No sex in the streets, no recruitment at the castle, just groups of red shirted revelers having fun like everyone else. Oh well, maybe I was just lucky. Guess I'll have to try again next year.
On the first Saturday in June, an abundance of red shirted guests descend upon the Magic Kingdom. It's a sure sign that Gay Days has rolled around yet again. Gay Days started as a one day event, but now it has expanded into a whirlwind week for gay/lesbian visitors and their families and friends to vacation openly in Orlando. But of all the goings-on, the event at the Magic Kingdom remains one of the most visible. Scarlet shirts blaze in all their glory on the vast majority of guests, and you'll see all manner of gay and lesbian couples and often their children too.
My husband and I attended last year for the first time ever. My curiosity had been piqued by the wild (often bordering on hysterical) descriptions posted online by religious fanatics. They described terrifying goings-on from “group urination” (I'm still not quite sure what that means) to blatant recruitment of youngsters into the ominous sounding “deviant homosexual lifestyle” behind Cinderella's castle. Since I am a therapist and work with many gay and lesbian clients, and since every one has known since early on that they were gay, I'm not sure how someone could be “recruited” into something that is an inborn trait. They also decried the blatant public displays of affection (PDAs) that would burn out the eyes of any God-fearing homophobe.
I'm not sure which Magic Kingdom the paranoid naysayers visited, but apparently it wasn't the one here in Orlando. Last year's Gay Days event was quite low key, with an added bonus of low crowd density due to iffy weather, so we spend a great day enjoying the park. Thus I was quite eager to make a return trip this year as my last blast before the peak season crowds arrived.
Last year, we got there not long after the park opened. This year that wasn't happening because hubby's Friday flight from Chicago was delayed by two hours. It comes in late to begin with, so with the delay we didn't return to Celebration till the wee hours. Neither of us was particularly eager to stir out of bed any too early the next morning.
We finally managed to get up and functional and reach the Magic Kingdom a little before noon. The moment we hit the gate area, I realized that the crowd density was waaaay worse than 2007. It was a sunny (and hot!) day, and the sunshine had drawn out a high number of “regular” tourists in addition to the Gay Days participants. Oh well, we figured it will still be fun to walk around and soak up the ambiance until our 5:30 dinner reservation at Artist Point. Even though I'm straight, I like to go and show my support. Hubby wore a red shirt, and I donned my typical Gay Days wear: a white t-shirt with a rainbow that declares, “Straight But Not Narrow.”
Our first stop was to get Fast Passes at Space Mountain, which had something like an hour standby wait. Then we did Wedway, Carousel of Progress, Buzz Lightyear, and the Monsters Inc. Laugh Floor. By that time, it was time to use our Fastpasses, but Space Mountain had broken down. We killed some time waiting for the Astro Orbiter, one of the slowest loading rides known to mankind, then returned to Space. Apparently it was functioning again, and we made it almost all the way to the loading platform before the stinkin' thing went 101 again. Sigh! At that point, we had waited longer than a typical Fastpass wait for nothing, so I decided to go to Guest Services to see if they'd swap out our Fastpasses and let us ride Big Thunder Mountain instead.
By now, it was almost time for the 3 p.m. parade, which is a HUGE highlight of Gay Days. I had no desire to get trapped on the parade route, which would prevent us from getting to the rides. Granted, it's pretty cool to watch the parade and the enthusiasm of the red-shirted audience, but we'd seen it last year and this year I was more interested in rides. Thus we hightailed it to City Hall and managed to do the swap before we got penned in. Next it was off to Adventureland, which would give us unblocked access to Frontierland and Big Thunder Mountain. First we stopped at Sunshine Tree Terrace or whatever it's called. All I know is that is has the tastiest treat to be found anywhere in the Magic Kingdom: a vanilla ice cream and frozen orange juice swirl cone. Mmmmmmmm! I was halfway to heat stroke from a combination of the sun and a raging sinus infection that was slowly tightening its grasp on me, so the ice cream tasted like heaven and soothed my scratchy throat.
While we were waiting in line, a very enthusiastic red shirted guy came bounding over to ask if he could take my picture while holding his Ru Paul doll. He was an absolute riot; if you've ever seen “Revenge of the Nerds,” he would have totally reminded you of Lamar. Apparently he liked my shirt, so I posed dutifully with Ru Paul in hand. Then he bounded off, happily looking for other photo ops.
He wasn't the only one who liked my shirt. It turned out to be a great conversation starter, and even those who didn't say anything to me directly often made comments among themselves about how much they liked the slogan. I think it's important for straight supporters of gay rights to be visible with their support, especially in a state where the ominous Amendment Two looms on the ballot. It is known quite misleadingly as the “Florida Marriage Protection Act” but it might as well be called the “Let's Discriminate Against An Entire Class of People Act...And While We're At It, Let's Screw Senior Citizens Who Live Together Too.” Personally I'm just not all that concerned about who wants to marry who. If loving gay couples want to tie the knot, why should I care or stand in the way? And I hate it when it's framed as a “Christian” issue because I'm a Christian myself, but as far as I can see, a) Jesus did not promote discrimination; and b) religious views have no place being used as the basis for law in the United States.
I did get one glare from a guy carrying his kid who appeared to be rather offended by my slogan, but he didn't say anything directly to me. Really, what COULD he say? How do you defend prejudice without sounding like an idiot?
We had fun chatting with quite a few groups of gay and lesbian park-goers. Once again I never saw any outrageous PDAs. Well, actually I take that back. Both hubby and I saw separate graphic displays, but both times they were being committed by hetro couples who apparently were doing dental exams with their tongues. Any parent, hetro or gay, would have no doubt covered their kiddies' eyes if they were in the vicinity.
We were going to ride Pirates of the Caribbean on the way to Big Thunder, but it was closed. “Oh, look!” cried hubby! “The Jungle Cruise is walk-on!” Foolishly I believed him and followed him into what turned out to be the Neverending Queue Line from Hell. I'm not quite sure how he missed the herd of humanity, but he swore that it had LOOKED like it was walk-on.
Oh well, our wait was rewarded by a riotously funny skipper. Interestingly enough, there was even one child on our boat. I think this is the first time I've ever ridden the Jungle Cruise on an all-adult vessel. I imagine that on Gay Days the crowd has less kids than usual, although I did notice a much higher percentage overall of gay and lesbian couples with their children. Far from being the raucous, obscene party that some insist on portraying it as, it's becoming more of a family event. Sure, there are plenty of childless couples too but I imagine a part of that is due to the archaic laws preventing gay and lesbian couples from adopting in so many areas. If that ever changes, I suspect that the number of families at Gay Days will multiply accordingly.
Next up it was Big Thunder Mountain, which was running in fine form. That is to say, it whipped me around like piece of china in an uncushioned wooden crate. By the time that was done, we were hoping to get in a last ride on the Haunted Mansion before going to dinner, but the line was 45 minutes and stretched out all the way to the main walkway. Reluctantly, we hiked to Toontown and hopped on the train for a final ride that would take us to the Main Street Station. I was amazed at how quickly the time had passed and sad that we didn't get any more rides, but that was tempered by the knowledge that a delicious meal lay just ahead.
Since I was feeling rather peaked, and my stuffed up sinuses were inhibiting my taste buds, I skipped the Copper River Salmon in favor of appetizers (venison spring rolls, a cheese plate, and the most godly mushroom soup ever to grace the earth). Hubby had mussels and salmon; I had a taste of his fish, and even my impaired sense of taste could tell that it was as delicious as ever. I topped my meal off with a selection of ice cream (not on the menu, but they'll do it if you ask), and then we headed home to conclude our second annual Gay Days visit. That's two years now that I've been unable to find the horror so graphically portrayed by homophobic paranoiacs. No sex in the streets, no recruitment at the castle, just groups of red shirted revelers having fun like everyone else. Oh well, maybe I was just lucky. Guess I'll have to try again next year.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Theme Park Schandenfreude
First off, to all those who have sent messages to see if I am still alive, breathing and blogging, I am indeed! In early June I was felled by the sinus infection from Hell, and now I'm frantically playing catch-up with all my work. But I am finally back to my blog.
I apparently got the infection on the plane returning home from Chicago; I reported on that whirlwind trip a few entries back, but its main purpose was to see the play "Avenue Q." Out of all the wonderful songs, like "The Internet Is For Porn," "Everyone's A Little Bit Racist," and "You Can Be Loud As The Hell You Want When You're Making Love," my favorite is a little ditty called "Schandenfreude." You might wonder, "Just what the heck does that mean?" I'll let two of the characters from the play describe it in their own words:
(Note: "Gary" is Gary Coleman, who has fallen so far down in the world that he is now the Avenue Q builder super. He's not played by the real Gary Coleman but rather by a woman. Nicky is a character who was kicked out by his roommate and who is now homeless):
Gary:
Right now you are down and out
And feelin' really crappy.
Nicky:
I’ll say.
Gary:
And when I see how sad you are,
It sorta makes me happy.
Nicky:
Happy?
Gary:
Sorry Nicky
Human nature-
Nothing I can do.
It’s Schadenfreude
Making me feel glad that I’m not you.
Nicky:
Now that’s not very nice Gary.
Gary:
I didn’t say it was nice,
But everybody does it.
‘Dya ever clap when a waitress falls
And drops a tray of glasses?
Nicky:
Yea.
Gary:
And ain’t it fun to watch figure skaters
Fallin’ on their asses?
Nicky:
Sure.
Gary:
Don’t you feel all warm and cozy
Watching people out in the rain?
Nicky:
You bet.
Gary:
That’s
Both:
Schadenfreude.
Gary:
People taking pleasure in your pain.
Nicky:
Oh. Schadenfreude, huh? What’s that? Some kind of Nazi word?
Gary:
Yup. It’s German for ‘happiness at the misfortune of others’.
Nicky:
‘Happiness at the misfortune of others’
That is German!
Now, mind you, I happen to be a quarter German myself, although I must confess that many of the German people I've met scare me to death. But I guess there's a little part of me that's true to my blood, since I do indeed indulge in a bit of selective Schandenfreude. I don't like to see people walk into a lightpole or fall down the stairs, but I do revel in the pain they cause themselves through personal stupidity, and this usually occurs at theme parks. For example, I can't help but smirk when a kid zipping blindly through a crowd on Hellies...er, Heelies...takes a header or when some moron who stops in the middle of a walkway to gape at his map to figure out why he can't find the Simpsons Ride at the Magic Kingdom gets mowed down by a rampaging Brazilian tour group. I guess you could call it Darwinian Schandenfreude.
I was at a major theme park deficit, so on Sunday hubby and I headed off to Universal Studios to get a few rides on our trio of favorites: The Simpsons, Mummy, and Men In Black. The Theme Park Schandenfreude was out in full force, particularly in the Express Lines. We have Premier Passes, which give us unlimited access to Express after 4 p.m. Universal hotel guests get it all day, and you can also buy a pass that gives you one-time Express access to each ride. That's one time, but apparently that concept is too hard to grasp for the many Sesame Street rejects we see arguing it on each visit.
Sure enough, there were five of them in front of us at Mummy. They must have berated the poor guy working the entrance for a good five minutes about how it was all his fault, how he had ruined their day, and how they were reporting him to Guest Services, all because he wouldn't let them use their purchased Express Pass which had already been used for that ride. Duh! I indulged in a smug, self-satisfied dose of Schandenfreude as they finally gave up and stormed past hubby and I. I suspect they were probably trying that routine at every ride, trying to see if there were workers they could bully.
Inside Mummy, there was a double dose of Schandenfreude. The Express line was a little more crowded than usual, probably because it was the holiday weekend. There were a couple of girls in front of us and a handful of people in front of them. Behind us was a couple and then a line of various assorted other parties.
All of a sudden I hear, "Excuse me, excuse me, we have to get to our friends," and two girls push their way up to the two girls in front of me. Although I have no tolerance for line cutters, I'll allow a catch-up if it's just a couple of people. At Universal, I always figure that someone might have stopped to put the group's bags in a locker or have stopped for an emergency potty break.
A few seconds go by, then I hear another chorus of "Excuse me, excuse me," punctuated by various people mumbling, "How many are there?" Another two girls were barging their way through. At this point, hubby and I blocked them as though we were of two minds and I said, "Nope!"
One of the girls in front of me said, "But there are 14 more of us that are going to catch up!" Sad thing was, she was totally serious! She actually thought I was going to stand aside and let 16 of her closest friends cut in front of me. I was surprised that such a feminine-looking little thing would have such a large set of testicles.
I said, "Ain't gonna happen, honey. You can just go back there and join them at the end of the line." She looked all pouty but her self preservation instinct apparently warned her not to mess any further with a product of Chicago's South Side. She huffed, "Well, okay, you can go in front of us."
Hubby and I stepped forward, but I was amazed that the people behind us all let the whole troop cut through. The people directly behind us must have finally grown some nads because a few minutes later they appeared behind us again, but I don't know what happened with the others. I guess it was a double case of Schandenfreude...misfortune for Miss Balls and Troupe because they didn't get to cut all the way to the front and for the gutless wonders who didn't dare challenge them, which cost them an extra two-train wait.
Still, I believe in karma, so I try to offset the Darwinian Schandenfreude with random acts of kindness when I can. I like to play the carnival games, but I don't like carrying around the spoils of victory. Thus I ditch whatever stuffed animals I win onto various random children. Actually, by doing that I might inadvertently be inflicting them with Schandenfreude once they discover that they can't carry a toy on the rides, so they have to go through the special hell of putting it in a locker. In theory, the lockers are free while you ride. In practice, the automated system works roughly as well as the business model of the early Internet Bubble firms. Oops!
I'll sign off with another little snippet from my favorite song (if you'd like to hear the whole thing, click here, but beware that it contains the F word, among other lyrics that aren't exactly for the sensitive).
Nicky:
Being on an elevator when somebody
Shouts ‘Hold the door!’
Gary:
Oh yea!
Both:
No!
Schadenfreude…
Gary:
F--- you lady!
That’s what stairs are for!
I apparently got the infection on the plane returning home from Chicago; I reported on that whirlwind trip a few entries back, but its main purpose was to see the play "Avenue Q." Out of all the wonderful songs, like "The Internet Is For Porn," "Everyone's A Little Bit Racist," and "You Can Be Loud As The Hell You Want When You're Making Love," my favorite is a little ditty called "Schandenfreude." You might wonder, "Just what the heck does that mean?" I'll let two of the characters from the play describe it in their own words:
(Note: "Gary" is Gary Coleman, who has fallen so far down in the world that he is now the Avenue Q builder super. He's not played by the real Gary Coleman but rather by a woman. Nicky is a character who was kicked out by his roommate and who is now homeless):
Gary:
Right now you are down and out
And feelin' really crappy.
Nicky:
I’ll say.
Gary:
And when I see how sad you are,
It sorta makes me happy.
Nicky:
Happy?
Gary:
Sorry Nicky
Human nature-
Nothing I can do.
It’s Schadenfreude
Making me feel glad that I’m not you.
Nicky:
Now that’s not very nice Gary.
Gary:
I didn’t say it was nice,
But everybody does it.
‘Dya ever clap when a waitress falls
And drops a tray of glasses?
Nicky:
Yea.
Gary:
And ain’t it fun to watch figure skaters
Fallin’ on their asses?
Nicky:
Sure.
Gary:
Don’t you feel all warm and cozy
Watching people out in the rain?
Nicky:
You bet.
Gary:
That’s
Both:
Schadenfreude.
Gary:
People taking pleasure in your pain.
Nicky:
Oh. Schadenfreude, huh? What’s that? Some kind of Nazi word?
Gary:
Yup. It’s German for ‘happiness at the misfortune of others’.
Nicky:
‘Happiness at the misfortune of others’
That is German!
Now, mind you, I happen to be a quarter German myself, although I must confess that many of the German people I've met scare me to death. But I guess there's a little part of me that's true to my blood, since I do indeed indulge in a bit of selective Schandenfreude. I don't like to see people walk into a lightpole or fall down the stairs, but I do revel in the pain they cause themselves through personal stupidity, and this usually occurs at theme parks. For example, I can't help but smirk when a kid zipping blindly through a crowd on Hellies...er, Heelies...takes a header or when some moron who stops in the middle of a walkway to gape at his map to figure out why he can't find the Simpsons Ride at the Magic Kingdom gets mowed down by a rampaging Brazilian tour group. I guess you could call it Darwinian Schandenfreude.
I was at a major theme park deficit, so on Sunday hubby and I headed off to Universal Studios to get a few rides on our trio of favorites: The Simpsons, Mummy, and Men In Black. The Theme Park Schandenfreude was out in full force, particularly in the Express Lines. We have Premier Passes, which give us unlimited access to Express after 4 p.m. Universal hotel guests get it all day, and you can also buy a pass that gives you one-time Express access to each ride. That's one time, but apparently that concept is too hard to grasp for the many Sesame Street rejects we see arguing it on each visit.
Sure enough, there were five of them in front of us at Mummy. They must have berated the poor guy working the entrance for a good five minutes about how it was all his fault, how he had ruined their day, and how they were reporting him to Guest Services, all because he wouldn't let them use their purchased Express Pass which had already been used for that ride. Duh! I indulged in a smug, self-satisfied dose of Schandenfreude as they finally gave up and stormed past hubby and I. I suspect they were probably trying that routine at every ride, trying to see if there were workers they could bully.
Inside Mummy, there was a double dose of Schandenfreude. The Express line was a little more crowded than usual, probably because it was the holiday weekend. There were a couple of girls in front of us and a handful of people in front of them. Behind us was a couple and then a line of various assorted other parties.
All of a sudden I hear, "Excuse me, excuse me, we have to get to our friends," and two girls push their way up to the two girls in front of me. Although I have no tolerance for line cutters, I'll allow a catch-up if it's just a couple of people. At Universal, I always figure that someone might have stopped to put the group's bags in a locker or have stopped for an emergency potty break.
A few seconds go by, then I hear another chorus of "Excuse me, excuse me," punctuated by various people mumbling, "How many are there?" Another two girls were barging their way through. At this point, hubby and I blocked them as though we were of two minds and I said, "Nope!"
One of the girls in front of me said, "But there are 14 more of us that are going to catch up!" Sad thing was, she was totally serious! She actually thought I was going to stand aside and let 16 of her closest friends cut in front of me. I was surprised that such a feminine-looking little thing would have such a large set of testicles.
I said, "Ain't gonna happen, honey. You can just go back there and join them at the end of the line." She looked all pouty but her self preservation instinct apparently warned her not to mess any further with a product of Chicago's South Side. She huffed, "Well, okay, you can go in front of us."
Hubby and I stepped forward, but I was amazed that the people behind us all let the whole troop cut through. The people directly behind us must have finally grown some nads because a few minutes later they appeared behind us again, but I don't know what happened with the others. I guess it was a double case of Schandenfreude...misfortune for Miss Balls and Troupe because they didn't get to cut all the way to the front and for the gutless wonders who didn't dare challenge them, which cost them an extra two-train wait.
Still, I believe in karma, so I try to offset the Darwinian Schandenfreude with random acts of kindness when I can. I like to play the carnival games, but I don't like carrying around the spoils of victory. Thus I ditch whatever stuffed animals I win onto various random children. Actually, by doing that I might inadvertently be inflicting them with Schandenfreude once they discover that they can't carry a toy on the rides, so they have to go through the special hell of putting it in a locker. In theory, the lockers are free while you ride. In practice, the automated system works roughly as well as the business model of the early Internet Bubble firms. Oops!
I'll sign off with another little snippet from my favorite song (if you'd like to hear the whole thing, click here, but beware that it contains the F word, among other lyrics that aren't exactly for the sensitive).
Nicky:
Being on an elevator when somebody
Shouts ‘Hold the door!’
Gary:
Oh yea!
Both:
No!
Schadenfreude…
Gary:
F--- you lady!
That’s what stairs are for!
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Two Minutes of Fame
They say that we'll all get fifteen minutes of fame in our lifetimes; I recently got two of mine. I was interviewed for a Current TV bit on Celebration, and the finished product has now been released: http://current.com/items/88972930_living_in_a_bubble
I was a little nervous about the interview because many past TV bits and documentaries have portrayed my beloved hometown in a highly inaccurate light. The personification of this is a Dutch documentary locally referred to as the Freaky Deaky Dutch Video, which can occasionally be seen on Sundance under the title "Celebration." Anyone seeing it would come away with the impression that we're a town full of insane robotic souls who have an aversion to sitting anywhere near each other. Or perhaps it just gives the impression that none of us wear deodorant, since it's full of shots of couples sitting at opposite ends of their couches. When one is talking, the other typically sits stiffly like a deactivated automaton. Then there are the Circlevision panoramics that are guaranteed to give you motion sickness. It's a study in bizarre film-making, and it's best viewed after the consumption of heavy doses of alcoholic beverages.
But thankfully the Current TV piece is much more balanced. It actually portrays life in Celebration as it really is: a mix of fantasy and reality in the shadow of Disney World with much more soul than the typical Stepford portrayal gives it credit for.
When I first started this blog over four years ago, I never thought I'd one day be interviewed as a chronicler of life in Celebration. At that time, I wasn't even planning to resume my freelance writing activities, but now I'm fully immersed in magazine work; although most is animal or self-help related, I do regular pieces for Celebration Life magazine and I've gotten other writing gigs based on my blog. I never really imagined that my hometown would meld so closely with my professional life.
It's kind of neat that Duloc Manor is immortalized on video too. As I watched myself rocking on my porch swing, I remembered how I dreamed of having one. As our house was being built, I was so excited that it was changed from Colonial style, which didn't have a porch, to Craftsman. Then there was the wild goose chase of finding a swing in the off-season and locating someone to hang it. But now it's there, and I've spent many happy hours out there chatting with neighbors and enjoying the Florida sunshine.
In the video, you can also see a small portion of the Disney bric-a-brac that pervades most of my house. Initially I swore that I wouldn't let it take over, but in the footage you can pretty much see that it was a losing battle.
Still, I haven't gotten my full 15 minutes yet. The whole piece is only around seven minutes long, so all told I appear in maybe two minutes of that. But it's still rather fun and exciting, and hopefully it will give a whole new audience a more accurate picture of what Celebration is all about.
I was a little nervous about the interview because many past TV bits and documentaries have portrayed my beloved hometown in a highly inaccurate light. The personification of this is a Dutch documentary locally referred to as the Freaky Deaky Dutch Video, which can occasionally be seen on Sundance under the title "Celebration." Anyone seeing it would come away with the impression that we're a town full of insane robotic souls who have an aversion to sitting anywhere near each other. Or perhaps it just gives the impression that none of us wear deodorant, since it's full of shots of couples sitting at opposite ends of their couches. When one is talking, the other typically sits stiffly like a deactivated automaton. Then there are the Circlevision panoramics that are guaranteed to give you motion sickness. It's a study in bizarre film-making, and it's best viewed after the consumption of heavy doses of alcoholic beverages.
But thankfully the Current TV piece is much more balanced. It actually portrays life in Celebration as it really is: a mix of fantasy and reality in the shadow of Disney World with much more soul than the typical Stepford portrayal gives it credit for.
When I first started this blog over four years ago, I never thought I'd one day be interviewed as a chronicler of life in Celebration. At that time, I wasn't even planning to resume my freelance writing activities, but now I'm fully immersed in magazine work; although most is animal or self-help related, I do regular pieces for Celebration Life magazine and I've gotten other writing gigs based on my blog. I never really imagined that my hometown would meld so closely with my professional life.
It's kind of neat that Duloc Manor is immortalized on video too. As I watched myself rocking on my porch swing, I remembered how I dreamed of having one. As our house was being built, I was so excited that it was changed from Colonial style, which didn't have a porch, to Craftsman. Then there was the wild goose chase of finding a swing in the off-season and locating someone to hang it. But now it's there, and I've spent many happy hours out there chatting with neighbors and enjoying the Florida sunshine.
In the video, you can also see a small portion of the Disney bric-a-brac that pervades most of my house. Initially I swore that I wouldn't let it take over, but in the footage you can pretty much see that it was a losing battle.
Still, I haven't gotten my full 15 minutes yet. The whole piece is only around seven minutes long, so all told I appear in maybe two minutes of that. But it's still rather fun and exciting, and hopefully it will give a whole new audience a more accurate picture of what Celebration is all about.
Monday, June 02, 2008
A Whirlwind Windy City Weekend
Not much will draw me back to Chicago these days, but "Avenue Q" finally accomplished the purpose. Several years ago I was miffed because it didn't go on tour, opting instead for an exclusive Vegas contract. Apparently it didn't go over well in Sin City, where people are more interested in gambling and legalized prostitution rather than simply watching puppet sex. Thus it was shut down and freed to go out for a nationwide run.
Although it ran in Tampa, we could get good tickets so I decided to combine a whirlwind Chicago weekend with a theater run. I really love Chicago's theater district, and I wanted to see family and friends since it has been many months, so hubby got us some decent tickets for this past weekend.
I can't handle spending too much time away from Celebration or the Disney homing chip kicks in. Thus I flew out with hubby early Saturday morning and returned first thing Monday morning, limiting my stay to 48 hours. At least the weather was pretty decent; in the winter I don't even think I could have lasted that long!
We hauled our butts out of bed bright and early to get to MCO, since we weren't sure just how wicked a Saturday morning crowd would be. Fortunately the security lines were minimal, although I witnessed for the very first time the futility of security lines marked "Expert," "Casual" and "Family."
Since there is no actual guidance or enforcement, people go where they darned well please. That meant we were blocked for quite a while by a dad and kid sayings a protracted goodbye to Mommy right at the entrance of the Expert line. Finally they got a clue and moved over, and meanwhile a random kid cut into the Expert line from who knows where. Apparently he thought it was the height of hilarity to ditch his family.
When we finally approached the X-ray machines, I noticed that most of the "experts" had no clue about basics like taking off your shoes or removing your laptop from your bag. Actually, I might have been misjudging the guy in front of us. He left his shoes on despite seeing everyone else remove theirs. Finally he did it at the last minute and phew! My nostrils instantly shriveled in terror. Thank goodness we were almost done and hightail it for a train to the gate. People complain about TSA agents being cranky (although I have to say that the ones at MCO were rather jovial), but I don't think it's crankiness so much as a terrible side effect of dealing with pungent foot aromas all day.
Since we were way early, we settled into the neat new chairs at the Southwest gate where you can plug in electronics right at your seat. Hubby, being an A-Lister (ultra-frequent flyer with SW) had a nice, early boarding pass number of A18, while mine was somewhere in the 20s. In theory, you are supposed to line up in numerical order. This gives preference to A-Listers as well as to the people who pay full price for Business Select. In practice, it can be a bit of a mob scene.
It wasn't too bad on this particular morning, although one lady kept insisting to hubby that she was 17 and needed to be behind her. He caught a glimpse of her boarding pass, which was actually 19; the person ahead of him was 17, so he claimed his proper place in line. Caught in a blatant lie, she then launched into a lecture on how it doesn't matter anyway, but he tuned it out.
He got 12F, a window exit row with mega legroom due to having no seat in front of it, while I took 12D, the aisle seat. No one took the middle, so we flew in relative comfort. I had popped some Xanax, so I was nicely relaxed. I plugged into my MP3 player and dozed for the majority of the trip.
At Midway, my sister-in-law and one of my nieces picked me up, and we headed to Pepe's for lunch. Real Mexican food! Sheer paradise! One Chicago gastronomical treat down, two more to go.
That night, we went to Fuji Japanense Steakhouse; yet, I know such restaurants are a dime a dozen in Orlando/Kissimmee, but not one has the delicacy irreverently known in my family as "lard lobster." Sure they'll grill you up a lobster tail, but in Illinois they slather it in some kind of sauce that seems to be made primarily of lard and egg yoke. Even if you have a heart attack at the table, it's well worth it. We dined there with my brother and sister-in-law, then capped our experience with coffee at Starbucks (an age-old tradition from when we actually lived in the area).
The next day was Avenue Q matinee day, to be followed by dinner at Lawry's The Prime Rib, but I managed to slip in a couple of Pepe's Tacos for lunch. The Dan Ryan was actually rather tame, or maybe it's just that I-4 is so hellacious that the Ryan seems like a Sunday drive in the park by comparison. We parked the car near Lawry's and hiked down to the theater district.
Avenue Q was playing at the Cadillac Palace, a wonderfully restored old theater. We had front row balcony seats in something called the Loge, at the near end of the lefthand side. It turned out to be a great area, but I didn't realize that it came with a pre-show. I knew we were in for something when a couple breezed into the seats behind us, proceeded to complain about the seats for 15 minutes or so (God forbid, people were in front of them) and then launched into their expectatons for the play.
I knew it was going to be interesting when they decided that it would be "Just like 'Rent.'" As far as I know, Rent doesn't have puppets or songs like "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist,""The Internet Is For Porn," "If You Were Gay," and You Can Be As Loud As The Hell You Want To Be When You're Making Love." I also doubt it had "Bad Idea Bears" (apparently the Care Bears' evil cousins) urging the main character to hang himself.
Sure enough, by intermission time the dude was spitting bullets. His voice rivaled Gilbert Gottfried's in volume and annoyance, and he laid into his poor wife for almost the entire time (pausing only to go to the restroom, then returning and going into a new tirade about the line). Some highlights: "I can't understand a damn thing that's going on because they're talking like puppets!" (Uh, yeah, they are puppets). "They keep talking about pussies and carpet munching!" (How would you know if you can't understand them?) The dancing totally sucks! (Uh, there is no dancing in Avenue Q). "The guy behind me keeps laughing and clapping! He likes this crap, and it's really bugging me." (So you're bugged that someone dig his homework and came to see a play he knew he could like?). There was more, but that's the highlight reel.
Eventually I amused myself by loudly discussing with hubby how godly Avenue Q was, how I plan to see it at least twice in Orlando and to bring all my friends to bask in its godliness, how I was going to buy the soundtrack on my way out, how it so totally deserved to kick the crap out of Wicked at the Tony Awards, and how only a person with the IQ of a newt and the sense of humor of a squashed roach wouldn't get it. (Most of this was exaggerated, although I do indeed believe that it deserved to win over Wicked, and it's an awesome show).
Gilbert was too loud to hear anything but his own self-important rantings, but we continued while he was draining the lizard and I'm sure his wife was sinking into her seat in embarrassment. When he returned, she kept apologizing for asking him to see it and begging him to leave before the second act, but he was one of those people who revels in being miserable.
We also got to hear a dialogue on how if you're paying over $100 at a restaurant, you should be allowed to eat in your flip flips and shorts (and nothing else maybe?). I pity the poor server who got stuck with them at their after-theater meal (I know they had one...I'm sure with his bellowing the whole theater knew).
Still, Captain Letdown couldn't dampen the sheer delight of Avenue Q. It's not a show for the easily offended, but the songs are a total and utter riot. It even has a nod to Celebration, Florida, which is announced as the previous venue of Lucy the Slut (one of the puppets) before her show in New York.
Even though the human puppeteers are clearly visible, you quickly forget their presence and buy into their fuzzy alter egos. Overall the theme of the play is the despair of leaving college and discovering that getting a job and finding your purpose are not so easy to do. Avenue Q isn't just for those starting out; it welcomes has-beens too. This is aptly illustrated in Gary Coleman, the building super (not played by Gary Coleman himself, although that would be a riot).
The play was most definitely worth traveling to Chicago for, and as a bonus we were meeting friends at Lawry's. That is the home to the world's best horseradish sauce, made with horseradish mixed with unsweetened whipped cream. The prime rib is slow roasted and flavorful through and through, and the creamed corn and spinach are gastronomic delights. We linked up with our friends and enjoyed a delightful meal and lots of catching up, topped off with chocolate bags for dessert. I thought all Lawry's had them, but we went to the one in Beverly Hills in April and they said it was only a Chicago thing.
Then it was back home to crash in preparation for my early morning flight. Hubby had to stay in Chicago for work, so he dropped me off for Midway. The security line was remarkably short, and the Expert lane was actually made up of people who seemed to know what they were doing. I got through quickly and staked out a spot at one of the outlet chairs so I could so some work before the flight.
Soon enough it was time to line up; I was A20, and there were only two people in front of me (must not have been any Business Select), so I snagged the exit row window; the person in front of me had taken the aisle.
It was a relatively smooth flight, with only two turbulence pocket. We did have some onboard turbulence tho'; an older lady sat in the middle seat of my row, although she kept glancing over at the row across the aisle and one row back. The window and aisle were taken, and aisle guy seemed to be spreading his stuff to ward off potential middle-takers. Once the door was closed for takeoff, he put it all away. The lady next to me said, "Do you think I could go over there? It's my grandson's first flight and I'd really love to see his face." (He was in the row behind us, hence her initial interest in that seat).
I replied, "Well, since we're waiting to taxi the FA might yell at you, but by that time you'll be in the seat anyway so it probably wouldn't hurt to go for it." (As an aside, there are no assigned seats on Southwest, so you can sit anywhere you want.)
She popped over, the plane took off, and we soon leveled off at cruising speed. She popped back into my row and said, "That man was really upset that I sat over there." I assured her she shouldn't worry about it because it's open seating and she had every right to move. But after that., she stayed in the much more friendly confines of row 11, occasonally peeking at her grandson between the seats.
The rest of the flight proceeded peacefully, but once we had landed and were all standing around waiting to deplane, the row 12 dude laid into the old lady! This guy just suddenly starts getting in the grandma's face about how rude she was for daring to climb over him and sit in the middle seat! He must have been stewing about it for the entire flight.
She was a non-confrontational sort, but he wouldn't knock it off so finally I snapped back, "She had every right to sit there. Maybe you shouldn't be flying Southwest if you don't like open seating." He babbled some more but couldn't really come up with a good answer to that one, so finally he says out of the blue, "Well, I'll bet I fly a hell of a lot more than you do."
Now mind you, I spent a long, long time commuting weekly from Chicago to Florida. Add that to more leisure flights than most people do for business and I knew I could probably match Mr. Spaz Boy flight for flight. Hell, he wasn't even A-List since he was nowhere near the head of the boarding line.
Standing there in my Avenue Q t-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops, I gave him a sarcastically sweet smile and said, "Maybe you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. I happen to own three businesses and have probably traveled more in my lifetime than you can ever hope to in yours."
He was taken aback for a moment; then the only thing he could think to respond was, "Blah blah blah," and he promptly barged his way in front of everyone and stormed off. The grandma thanked me, and another passenger also reassured her that she'd done nothing wrong and shouldn't listen to jerks.
Too bad he ran off so quickly or I could have pointed out that I'm a doctor, handed him one of my cards, and offered him a discount on therapy. I could have given him a little wink and said, "My, my, what a lot of anger towards old ladies. Have some mommy issues, do you?"
Between Theater Freak and Air Rage Idiot I wondered if it was a full moon, or perhaps vacation time from the Chicago institutions. But for the most part, it had been a calm, uneventful flight which is just how I like them.
Now I'm back in Celebration and toying with the idea of seeing Avenue Q when it comes here in December. It wouldn't be quite as good as Chicago (no entertainment from Gilbert during the intermission and no Lawry's afterward), but somehow wild puppet sex never gets old.
Although it ran in Tampa, we could get good tickets so I decided to combine a whirlwind Chicago weekend with a theater run. I really love Chicago's theater district, and I wanted to see family and friends since it has been many months, so hubby got us some decent tickets for this past weekend.
I can't handle spending too much time away from Celebration or the Disney homing chip kicks in. Thus I flew out with hubby early Saturday morning and returned first thing Monday morning, limiting my stay to 48 hours. At least the weather was pretty decent; in the winter I don't even think I could have lasted that long!
We hauled our butts out of bed bright and early to get to MCO, since we weren't sure just how wicked a Saturday morning crowd would be. Fortunately the security lines were minimal, although I witnessed for the very first time the futility of security lines marked "Expert," "Casual" and "Family."
Since there is no actual guidance or enforcement, people go where they darned well please. That meant we were blocked for quite a while by a dad and kid sayings a protracted goodbye to Mommy right at the entrance of the Expert line. Finally they got a clue and moved over, and meanwhile a random kid cut into the Expert line from who knows where. Apparently he thought it was the height of hilarity to ditch his family.
When we finally approached the X-ray machines, I noticed that most of the "experts" had no clue about basics like taking off your shoes or removing your laptop from your bag. Actually, I might have been misjudging the guy in front of us. He left his shoes on despite seeing everyone else remove theirs. Finally he did it at the last minute and phew! My nostrils instantly shriveled in terror. Thank goodness we were almost done and hightail it for a train to the gate. People complain about TSA agents being cranky (although I have to say that the ones at MCO were rather jovial), but I don't think it's crankiness so much as a terrible side effect of dealing with pungent foot aromas all day.
Since we were way early, we settled into the neat new chairs at the Southwest gate where you can plug in electronics right at your seat. Hubby, being an A-Lister (ultra-frequent flyer with SW) had a nice, early boarding pass number of A18, while mine was somewhere in the 20s. In theory, you are supposed to line up in numerical order. This gives preference to A-Listers as well as to the people who pay full price for Business Select. In practice, it can be a bit of a mob scene.
It wasn't too bad on this particular morning, although one lady kept insisting to hubby that she was 17 and needed to be behind her. He caught a glimpse of her boarding pass, which was actually 19; the person ahead of him was 17, so he claimed his proper place in line. Caught in a blatant lie, she then launched into a lecture on how it doesn't matter anyway, but he tuned it out.
He got 12F, a window exit row with mega legroom due to having no seat in front of it, while I took 12D, the aisle seat. No one took the middle, so we flew in relative comfort. I had popped some Xanax, so I was nicely relaxed. I plugged into my MP3 player and dozed for the majority of the trip.
At Midway, my sister-in-law and one of my nieces picked me up, and we headed to Pepe's for lunch. Real Mexican food! Sheer paradise! One Chicago gastronomical treat down, two more to go.
That night, we went to Fuji Japanense Steakhouse; yet, I know such restaurants are a dime a dozen in Orlando/Kissimmee, but not one has the delicacy irreverently known in my family as "lard lobster." Sure they'll grill you up a lobster tail, but in Illinois they slather it in some kind of sauce that seems to be made primarily of lard and egg yoke. Even if you have a heart attack at the table, it's well worth it. We dined there with my brother and sister-in-law, then capped our experience with coffee at Starbucks (an age-old tradition from when we actually lived in the area).
The next day was Avenue Q matinee day, to be followed by dinner at Lawry's The Prime Rib, but I managed to slip in a couple of Pepe's Tacos for lunch. The Dan Ryan was actually rather tame, or maybe it's just that I-4 is so hellacious that the Ryan seems like a Sunday drive in the park by comparison. We parked the car near Lawry's and hiked down to the theater district.
Avenue Q was playing at the Cadillac Palace, a wonderfully restored old theater. We had front row balcony seats in something called the Loge, at the near end of the lefthand side. It turned out to be a great area, but I didn't realize that it came with a pre-show. I knew we were in for something when a couple breezed into the seats behind us, proceeded to complain about the seats for 15 minutes or so (God forbid, people were in front of them) and then launched into their expectatons for the play.
I knew it was going to be interesting when they decided that it would be "Just like 'Rent.'" As far as I know, Rent doesn't have puppets or songs like "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist,""The Internet Is For Porn," "If You Were Gay," and You Can Be As Loud As The Hell You Want To Be When You're Making Love." I also doubt it had "Bad Idea Bears" (apparently the Care Bears' evil cousins) urging the main character to hang himself.
Sure enough, by intermission time the dude was spitting bullets. His voice rivaled Gilbert Gottfried's in volume and annoyance, and he laid into his poor wife for almost the entire time (pausing only to go to the restroom, then returning and going into a new tirade about the line). Some highlights: "I can't understand a damn thing that's going on because they're talking like puppets!" (Uh, yeah, they are puppets). "They keep talking about pussies and carpet munching!" (How would you know if you can't understand them?) The dancing totally sucks! (Uh, there is no dancing in Avenue Q). "The guy behind me keeps laughing and clapping! He likes this crap, and it's really bugging me." (So you're bugged that someone dig his homework and came to see a play he knew he could like?). There was more, but that's the highlight reel.
Eventually I amused myself by loudly discussing with hubby how godly Avenue Q was, how I plan to see it at least twice in Orlando and to bring all my friends to bask in its godliness, how I was going to buy the soundtrack on my way out, how it so totally deserved to kick the crap out of Wicked at the Tony Awards, and how only a person with the IQ of a newt and the sense of humor of a squashed roach wouldn't get it. (Most of this was exaggerated, although I do indeed believe that it deserved to win over Wicked, and it's an awesome show).
Gilbert was too loud to hear anything but his own self-important rantings, but we continued while he was draining the lizard and I'm sure his wife was sinking into her seat in embarrassment. When he returned, she kept apologizing for asking him to see it and begging him to leave before the second act, but he was one of those people who revels in being miserable.
We also got to hear a dialogue on how if you're paying over $100 at a restaurant, you should be allowed to eat in your flip flips and shorts (and nothing else maybe?). I pity the poor server who got stuck with them at their after-theater meal (I know they had one...I'm sure with his bellowing the whole theater knew).
Still, Captain Letdown couldn't dampen the sheer delight of Avenue Q. It's not a show for the easily offended, but the songs are a total and utter riot. It even has a nod to Celebration, Florida, which is announced as the previous venue of Lucy the Slut (one of the puppets) before her show in New York.
Even though the human puppeteers are clearly visible, you quickly forget their presence and buy into their fuzzy alter egos. Overall the theme of the play is the despair of leaving college and discovering that getting a job and finding your purpose are not so easy to do. Avenue Q isn't just for those starting out; it welcomes has-beens too. This is aptly illustrated in Gary Coleman, the building super (not played by Gary Coleman himself, although that would be a riot).
The play was most definitely worth traveling to Chicago for, and as a bonus we were meeting friends at Lawry's. That is the home to the world's best horseradish sauce, made with horseradish mixed with unsweetened whipped cream. The prime rib is slow roasted and flavorful through and through, and the creamed corn and spinach are gastronomic delights. We linked up with our friends and enjoyed a delightful meal and lots of catching up, topped off with chocolate bags for dessert. I thought all Lawry's had them, but we went to the one in Beverly Hills in April and they said it was only a Chicago thing.
Then it was back home to crash in preparation for my early morning flight. Hubby had to stay in Chicago for work, so he dropped me off for Midway. The security line was remarkably short, and the Expert lane was actually made up of people who seemed to know what they were doing. I got through quickly and staked out a spot at one of the outlet chairs so I could so some work before the flight.
Soon enough it was time to line up; I was A20, and there were only two people in front of me (must not have been any Business Select), so I snagged the exit row window; the person in front of me had taken the aisle.
It was a relatively smooth flight, with only two turbulence pocket. We did have some onboard turbulence tho'; an older lady sat in the middle seat of my row, although she kept glancing over at the row across the aisle and one row back. The window and aisle were taken, and aisle guy seemed to be spreading his stuff to ward off potential middle-takers. Once the door was closed for takeoff, he put it all away. The lady next to me said, "Do you think I could go over there? It's my grandson's first flight and I'd really love to see his face." (He was in the row behind us, hence her initial interest in that seat).
I replied, "Well, since we're waiting to taxi the FA might yell at you, but by that time you'll be in the seat anyway so it probably wouldn't hurt to go for it." (As an aside, there are no assigned seats on Southwest, so you can sit anywhere you want.)
She popped over, the plane took off, and we soon leveled off at cruising speed. She popped back into my row and said, "That man was really upset that I sat over there." I assured her she shouldn't worry about it because it's open seating and she had every right to move. But after that., she stayed in the much more friendly confines of row 11, occasonally peeking at her grandson between the seats.
The rest of the flight proceeded peacefully, but once we had landed and were all standing around waiting to deplane, the row 12 dude laid into the old lady! This guy just suddenly starts getting in the grandma's face about how rude she was for daring to climb over him and sit in the middle seat! He must have been stewing about it for the entire flight.
She was a non-confrontational sort, but he wouldn't knock it off so finally I snapped back, "She had every right to sit there. Maybe you shouldn't be flying Southwest if you don't like open seating." He babbled some more but couldn't really come up with a good answer to that one, so finally he says out of the blue, "Well, I'll bet I fly a hell of a lot more than you do."
Now mind you, I spent a long, long time commuting weekly from Chicago to Florida. Add that to more leisure flights than most people do for business and I knew I could probably match Mr. Spaz Boy flight for flight. Hell, he wasn't even A-List since he was nowhere near the head of the boarding line.
Standing there in my Avenue Q t-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops, I gave him a sarcastically sweet smile and said, "Maybe you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. I happen to own three businesses and have probably traveled more in my lifetime than you can ever hope to in yours."
He was taken aback for a moment; then the only thing he could think to respond was, "Blah blah blah," and he promptly barged his way in front of everyone and stormed off. The grandma thanked me, and another passenger also reassured her that she'd done nothing wrong and shouldn't listen to jerks.
Too bad he ran off so quickly or I could have pointed out that I'm a doctor, handed him one of my cards, and offered him a discount on therapy. I could have given him a little wink and said, "My, my, what a lot of anger towards old ladies. Have some mommy issues, do you?"
Between Theater Freak and Air Rage Idiot I wondered if it was a full moon, or perhaps vacation time from the Chicago institutions. But for the most part, it had been a calm, uneventful flight which is just how I like them.
Now I'm back in Celebration and toying with the idea of seeing Avenue Q when it comes here in December. It wouldn't be quite as good as Chicago (no entertainment from Gilbert during the intermission and no Lawry's afterward), but somehow wild puppet sex never gets old.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Watch Fox...
A few weeks ago I blogged about Fox Orlando's habit of breaking into programming every time a blade of grass dies within a thousand mile radius of Florida. Since that time there were no break-ins, at least while I was watching, so I thought perhaps the on-air personalities had gotten into therapy and no longer needed extra air time to sustain their egos.
Sadly, I was wrong.
Today I was peacefully watching Judge Mathis when there was BREAKING NEWS! Wow! Could it be something exciting? Something people in the greater Orlando area would actually care about? Something...dare I say it...newsworthy?
Heck no, it was a report on a brush fire in Lake County that had already been burning for an hour. Mind you, brush fires in Florida in the dry season are almost as common as afternoon thunderstorms in the rainy season. There've been some pretty nasty ones already this year, but apparently this one cropped up right around the time that one of the anchors was feeling neglected. Soon I was listening to a report on the fire, punctuated by repetitive footage and a reassurance that Fox would bring me even more news on this stunning story as it became available. Well, thank goodness for that. God knows I wouldn't rather just watch TV shows without interruption. I'd ever so much rather hear about non-events.
Happily, Judge Mathis is back on my screen now, but I'm cringing in anticipation of the next interruption. I'm sure that when that fire expands another inch, or perhaps if the smoke goes from black to a shade blacker, Fox will be there to tell me ad nauseum.
Sadly, I was wrong.
Today I was peacefully watching Judge Mathis when there was BREAKING NEWS! Wow! Could it be something exciting? Something people in the greater Orlando area would actually care about? Something...dare I say it...newsworthy?
Heck no, it was a report on a brush fire in Lake County that had already been burning for an hour. Mind you, brush fires in Florida in the dry season are almost as common as afternoon thunderstorms in the rainy season. There've been some pretty nasty ones already this year, but apparently this one cropped up right around the time that one of the anchors was feeling neglected. Soon I was listening to a report on the fire, punctuated by repetitive footage and a reassurance that Fox would bring me even more news on this stunning story as it became available. Well, thank goodness for that. God knows I wouldn't rather just watch TV shows without interruption. I'd ever so much rather hear about non-events.
Happily, Judge Mathis is back on my screen now, but I'm cringing in anticipation of the next interruption. I'm sure that when that fire expands another inch, or perhaps if the smoke goes from black to a shade blacker, Fox will be there to tell me ad nauseum.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Restaurant Noah's Ark
I've been neglecting my blog due to an Adventure By Disney trip to Hollywood and Disneyland, followed by a four-night cruise on the Wonder. To read about the California trip, visit http://barbnefer.blogspot.com/, where I posted my trip report. It was loaded with backstage experiences, including a visit to Walt's apartment and a viewing of Soarin' from behind the screen, as well as a visit to Imagineering (trust me, seeing an Audioanimatronic stripped of its skin and performing a Joe Cocker song is scary...I now know that from person experience).
But now I'm back home and pondering life here in Celebration. One of the flukes of living in Touristland just struck me today: in terms of restaurants, it's a lot like Noah's Ark. Out on the glitzy neon strip of 192, the fast food joints tend to come in pairs. Thus you can find two Ponderosas, two Golden Corrals, two Starbucks, two Wendy's, two IHOPS, two McDonald's, two Dunkin' Donuts, two Taco Bells, two T.G.I. Friday's, two Perkins, two Waffle Houses, two A & Ws, and two Cracker Barrels within relatively close proximity to each other.
This causes some confusion among the uninitiated. One day I was lunching at Perkins and noticed a rather impatient man at a nearby table. Over time, the reason for his agitation became clear. He mentioned to the server that he was waiting for someone and they were now half an hour late. "They definitely said Perkins," he lamented. "They said it was right here on 192 by Old Lake Wilson Road." Oops! The server gently pointed out that that was the other Perkins.
I tend to keep the various eateries straight in my mind by thinking of them in terms of East 192 and West 192, with Griffin Road being the unofficial dividing line. I also use landmarks to tell them apart. When we're heading to Cracker Barrel, Red Lobster, or Friday's, I ask my husband, "The 'Old Town' one or the other one?"
There are also some locations that we simply avoid by tacit unspoken agreement due to prior bad experiences. The best example of that is IHOP; there is one right across from Celebration, but we eschew it in favor of another that is farther down 192. That's because, on our last visit there, our food took literally an hour to show up. It should have been a hint when we heard others complaining about the length of time as we took our seats, but sadly we didn't heed them. Then I went into the restroom, where one toilet was dismantled, with the lid off and the tank naked and bubbling, while another was stuffed with a toilet paper foundation holding up the world's largest crap sculpture. The only good thing about my restroom trauma was that it caused me to lose my appetite, thus making the hour wait a little easier.
Some of the chain restaurants on 192 are "singles." My favorites among those are Logan's and Ruby Tuesday. Logan's in particular seems to be a favorite of many Celebrationites. But hey, they have good steaks at reasonable prices, sweet potatoes as a side dish option, wicked-good spiked ice tea drinks, and the world's most addictive rolls. What's not to like? I sure wish Logan's did have a doppleganger...that might alleviate some of the crowd that descends there in the evenings. Oh well, considering the number of other pairs, that just might happen someday.
But now I'm back home and pondering life here in Celebration. One of the flukes of living in Touristland just struck me today: in terms of restaurants, it's a lot like Noah's Ark. Out on the glitzy neon strip of 192, the fast food joints tend to come in pairs. Thus you can find two Ponderosas, two Golden Corrals, two Starbucks, two Wendy's, two IHOPS, two McDonald's, two Dunkin' Donuts, two Taco Bells, two T.G.I. Friday's, two Perkins, two Waffle Houses, two A & Ws, and two Cracker Barrels within relatively close proximity to each other.
This causes some confusion among the uninitiated. One day I was lunching at Perkins and noticed a rather impatient man at a nearby table. Over time, the reason for his agitation became clear. He mentioned to the server that he was waiting for someone and they were now half an hour late. "They definitely said Perkins," he lamented. "They said it was right here on 192 by Old Lake Wilson Road." Oops! The server gently pointed out that that was the other Perkins.
I tend to keep the various eateries straight in my mind by thinking of them in terms of East 192 and West 192, with Griffin Road being the unofficial dividing line. I also use landmarks to tell them apart. When we're heading to Cracker Barrel, Red Lobster, or Friday's, I ask my husband, "The 'Old Town' one or the other one?"
There are also some locations that we simply avoid by tacit unspoken agreement due to prior bad experiences. The best example of that is IHOP; there is one right across from Celebration, but we eschew it in favor of another that is farther down 192. That's because, on our last visit there, our food took literally an hour to show up. It should have been a hint when we heard others complaining about the length of time as we took our seats, but sadly we didn't heed them. Then I went into the restroom, where one toilet was dismantled, with the lid off and the tank naked and bubbling, while another was stuffed with a toilet paper foundation holding up the world's largest crap sculpture. The only good thing about my restroom trauma was that it caused me to lose my appetite, thus making the hour wait a little easier.
Some of the chain restaurants on 192 are "singles." My favorites among those are Logan's and Ruby Tuesday. Logan's in particular seems to be a favorite of many Celebrationites. But hey, they have good steaks at reasonable prices, sweet potatoes as a side dish option, wicked-good spiked ice tea drinks, and the world's most addictive rolls. What's not to like? I sure wish Logan's did have a doppleganger...that might alleviate some of the crowd that descends there in the evenings. Oh well, considering the number of other pairs, that just might happen someday.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
My Radio Tells Me to Do Things
I swear I'm not schizophrenic, but voices from my radio tell me to do things. They tell me where to go and give me commands that I must obey or risk getting hopelessly lost. No, it's not a sign of developing mental illness. It's simply the turn-by-turn service provided by OnStar in our new Saturn Vue.
The first time I tried it, it was rather disconcerting. You call OnStar with the console in your vehicle and tell them your destination. They locate your current position via GPS, then download it into the car where it plays on your radio speakers as you navigate the route. I like it much better than screen-based systems; I've had too many near collisions with tourists whose eyes were glue to the screen instead of the road. With OnStar, you simply listen while you keep your eyes safely on the road.
The other day we had lunch at Chevy's, and I told hubby, "Let's call up Onstar to get directions to Walgreens." Obviously we know our way there backwards and forwards, but I just wanted to show him how the system worked. He rolled his eyes and chided me for being in love with my new toys, but he humored me as I phoned up some poor, long-suffering OnStar operator who duly downloaded the instructions. Since I didn't actually know the address, I just told him that we needed to get to 192 and International Drive.
The disembodied voice coming out of the radio is rather disconcerting at first. It guided us onto I4 but was planning to have us exit at 192 instead of Osceola Parkway. Technically that would be more straightforward for a lost person, but it would also overshoot us a bit from our destination. Thus we totally confused the system by hopping off at Osceola.
The system chided us for going off-route and asked if we wanted directions to get back on the pre-planned route. You tell it yes or no, and it understands your voice commands. Freaky! Since we knew where we were going, hubby simply cancelled the trip.
All the bells and whistles have caused me to rename the new Vue. Originally I named it B2, since it's almost the same color as my husband's old Neon, long since given to my brother, driven into the ground, and mouldering in some junk yard. The Neon was named Bruiser, so B2 stood for Bruiser 2.
We don't usually give duplicate names, or if we do, the derivative is actually something different. For example, I once had a Hyundai named Magnum (after a roller coaster at Cedar Point) which had vanity plates matching its name. I bought a Neon and transferred the plates, so it also made sense to transfer the moniker. But I wanted it to be different, so Magnum 2 became Twoey, after the plant in "Little Shop of Horrors" (it was named Audrey 2 but Twoey was its nickname). Canyonero was my next car after Twoey, with its own set of plates and its own identity, christened in honor of the Simpsons ode to SUV excess.
B2 seemed like a rather dull name, but nothing else came to mind...until I realized that I had a car that talked to me and understood my voice commends. Duh! Anyone who came of age in the 1980s should known the perfect name for a sentient vehicle: Kitt!
Now B2 has a much more appropriate handle. Kitt seems to fit in terms of its intelligence and also somewhat its color. Although it isn't black, the dark blue can easily be mistaken for black in the right lighting. When it was nagging at me for getting off I-4 at the wrong exit, I briefly toyed with calling it Hal ("I can't let you do that, Barb. I'm going to have to disable to life support systems."), but it doesn't seem quite as malevolent as the 2001: A Space Odyssey computer.
Canyonero was a heck of a vehicle, but one thing it never did was talk to me. I still miss my rugged, loyal old Tek but I think that Kitt just might be a worth successor.
The first time I tried it, it was rather disconcerting. You call OnStar with the console in your vehicle and tell them your destination. They locate your current position via GPS, then download it into the car where it plays on your radio speakers as you navigate the route. I like it much better than screen-based systems; I've had too many near collisions with tourists whose eyes were glue to the screen instead of the road. With OnStar, you simply listen while you keep your eyes safely on the road.
The other day we had lunch at Chevy's, and I told hubby, "Let's call up Onstar to get directions to Walgreens." Obviously we know our way there backwards and forwards, but I just wanted to show him how the system worked. He rolled his eyes and chided me for being in love with my new toys, but he humored me as I phoned up some poor, long-suffering OnStar operator who duly downloaded the instructions. Since I didn't actually know the address, I just told him that we needed to get to 192 and International Drive.
The disembodied voice coming out of the radio is rather disconcerting at first. It guided us onto I4 but was planning to have us exit at 192 instead of Osceola Parkway. Technically that would be more straightforward for a lost person, but it would also overshoot us a bit from our destination. Thus we totally confused the system by hopping off at Osceola.
The system chided us for going off-route and asked if we wanted directions to get back on the pre-planned route. You tell it yes or no, and it understands your voice commands. Freaky! Since we knew where we were going, hubby simply cancelled the trip.
All the bells and whistles have caused me to rename the new Vue. Originally I named it B2, since it's almost the same color as my husband's old Neon, long since given to my brother, driven into the ground, and mouldering in some junk yard. The Neon was named Bruiser, so B2 stood for Bruiser 2.
We don't usually give duplicate names, or if we do, the derivative is actually something different. For example, I once had a Hyundai named Magnum (after a roller coaster at Cedar Point) which had vanity plates matching its name. I bought a Neon and transferred the plates, so it also made sense to transfer the moniker. But I wanted it to be different, so Magnum 2 became Twoey, after the plant in "Little Shop of Horrors" (it was named Audrey 2 but Twoey was its nickname). Canyonero was my next car after Twoey, with its own set of plates and its own identity, christened in honor of the Simpsons ode to SUV excess.
B2 seemed like a rather dull name, but nothing else came to mind...until I realized that I had a car that talked to me and understood my voice commends. Duh! Anyone who came of age in the 1980s should known the perfect name for a sentient vehicle: Kitt!
Now B2 has a much more appropriate handle. Kitt seems to fit in terms of its intelligence and also somewhat its color. Although it isn't black, the dark blue can easily be mistaken for black in the right lighting. When it was nagging at me for getting off I-4 at the wrong exit, I briefly toyed with calling it Hal ("I can't let you do that, Barb. I'm going to have to disable to life support systems."), but it doesn't seem quite as malevolent as the 2001: A Space Odyssey computer.
Canyonero was a heck of a vehicle, but one thing it never did was talk to me. I still miss my rugged, loyal old Tek but I think that Kitt just might be a worth successor.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Goodbye Canyonero
It's never easy to say goodbye to a beloved member of the family. Even when they get old and crotchety and start to fall apart, you remember their younger glory days and are loathe to let go.
So it was for Canyonero, my trusty 2002 Pontiac Aztek that served us faithfully for six years and rolled safely through a Georgia ice storm to delivery hubby and I, along with two fish, three cats and a bird, safely from Chicago to Duloc Manor.
I have no photos of Canyonero, but the pics. below are an accurate representation:
I loved its boxy butt and its general homeliness. It was my first SUV, and I hate SUVs, so it was a way of subtly thumbing my nose even as I gave in to a desire for safety and space. At the time, I was driving a micro-Neon, so with 80% of the cars on the road being big, honkin' SUVs that could crush me flat I knew I had to get something to put me on equal footing. But that didn't mean I had to like it, and it pleased me to know that my hideous vehicle was borderline painful to look at. But that was then and this is now...there are much uglier vehicles than the Tek. Still, in its day it was considered...uh...unusual.
I came to love the Tek, which was well equipped at a reasonable price and which had tons of room and all sorts of little comforts. It even had take-away storage bags in the doors and a cooler between the driver and passenger seats. If they were still available, I would have bought a new one in a minute.
But alas, they are not and Canyonero was starting to show its age. First a power window problem, then the body control module. We had those things fixed; next, the air conditioning went out (which is a fatal flaw in Florida) and the brakes started squeaking. Was our beloved vehicle going to become a money pit? Sadly, we decided it wasn't worth the gamble.
Since Azteks have gone the way of the dodo and Florida orange groves, we studied up an decided on a Saturn Vue. It's still a GM product and, like the Tek, the base model is pretty loaded. Also, I am eligible for a GM supplier discount so we'd get a little money off the Saturn pre-set price. We wanted a 4cylinder base XE model with no extras and were almost 100 percent open on the color. Should be an easy purchase, right?
Arghhhhhhh!
First, it's virtually impossible to find a 4 cylinder XE with no options. Most have the preferred package or a bunch of things we'd never use, like a CD changer and roof rails, that boost the price by hundreds of dollars.
Next up is a common Florida trick: loading them with dealer options that add no value, like paint protector and fabric coating ($599), window tint ($199), and pinstripe ($199). The actual cost is pennies on the dollar, but they boost dealer profit by upping the price of the car by $1000 or more. For some reason this was not as predominant in Illinois except at certain dealerships. In FL it seems to happen across the board.
Last but not least there's another money-waster that is as common in Florida as lizards and lovebugs, although it's a problem in other states too: the documentation fee. In theory, it's for filling out paperwork etc. although that would be akin to your doctor adding on a $25 receptionist fee and $15 paperwork generation fee to your office visit. Still, if it was reasonable I wouldn't balk. In Illinois it's capped right around $5o by law. In America's Wang, which has no such restriction, it can run anywhere from $299 to $99. That's almost pure profit! Thankfully (or so I thought), it's capped at $75 under the supplier program.
But as we started looking, I quickly discovered that the cap is "voluntary," and fully 50 percent of the dealers we spoke to didn't want to honor it. When I mentioned it to the first dealer we called, the person I spoke with acted as though I had just said, "Your mother wears combat boots and should have killed herself the day before you were born." Jeez, all I was asking for was something GM said I was entitled to! They promptly got crossed off the list.
The first one we actually visited in person also gave me guff about the doc. fee. They also didn't want to budget on the worthless extras, although they finally offered 'em at half price and acted like it was the best deal since Manhattan was purchased from the Indians for $24. Since we already had financing worked out, they would have had an easy sale if they'd simply sold us the vehicle at the pre-set supplier price with the proper doc. fee and without charges for the bogus extras. But they dug in their heels, so we walked.
We checked with another dealership that sounded good on the phone but that changed their tune when we walked in the door. Also, their XE Vues all had the preferred package which is a legitimate up-charge but which we just didn't want or need. It featured things like heating mirrors (uh, this is FLORIDA!) and a power seat. I still might have considered it but they, too, clung to the charges for padded extras so once again we hit the road.
We called another dealership that was amendable to the proper supplier price and doc. fee, but they just didn't have the car we wanted. Once again, their lot was full of preferred packages. Sigh! They said they could order a car to our specs, but there was no guarantee that the current rebates would still be in force.
At this point, we were feeling rather defeated. Maybe it was a sign that we should just keep Canyonero, fix the air conditioning and brakes, and pray for the best. Still, I am nothing if not a thorough researcher when I'm considering a big purchase. I found one more dealership that actually appeared to have two suitable Vues. No preferred package! Granted, they had $80 floor mats but I figured I could suck it up and pay for those if everything was in order.
I called to confirm that the cars were still available and explained right off the bat that I wasn't going to pay for bogus extras package. No problem. The cars actually had $1400 in dealer additions but that was removed from the equation up front. Then we got to the doc. fee and hit a sticking point; they would only go as low as $150. That rankled me; not so much the amount as the principle. If the GM program says $75 then that's what it should be. I hung up at an impasse but decided to take a ride out there. If I was standing there was a check in hand, perhaps they would make that final concession.
Hubby and I piled into Canyonero for one last shot at replacing it. We had already gotten a good quote for it at CarMax, so if we sealed the deal we'd be stopping there to sell it. My excitement at potentially finding the right Vue after such a long and fruitless search was tempered somewhat by feelings of melancholy at the prospect of losing my boxy maroon friend. Still, after all the game playing, hubby was only giving us 50/50 odds of making a deal so perhaps Canyonero would remain in the family after all.
At the dealership, we made a beeline for the Vues but were inadvertently heading for the used car section. Fortunately a salesman popped out to point us in the right direction. I explained that we had spoken to a manager over the phone and gave him our bottom line. He showed us the two suitable cars and then we went inside for the classic kabitzing with the manager.
At first I got the same $150 doc. fee line that I had gotten on the phone; at least they were as good as their word in removing the padded extras from the equation right off the bat. I reiterated that I had my bottom line and that I would buy right that moment if they would give on the $75. The manager and salesman went off for more discussion; as time ticked away, I asked hubby, "Want to go outside and look at the cars?" That's a virtually sure-fire way to hurry things up. They don't like you to leave the sanctity of the showroom; outside is much too close to leaving. Sure enough, we didn't even make it to the door before they intercepted us with the good news that we had a meeting of the minds on our numbers. We'd be getting our new Vue after all!
Now it was time to commit to a color. From the start, hubby's preference had been orange but those were virtually impossible to find, especially in a stripped down XE. I favored Gold Cashmere and Mystic Blue (he also liked the blue). I could have lived with the Sea Mist Green, but hubby hated it with a passion so we dismissed it out of hand. We also dismissed black because it's too dark and I want a visible car and white just because it doesn't ring our chimes. Silver seemed to be popular on the car lots, but although we didn't totally eliminate it hubby wasn't thrilled about it because it's the most common rental car color. He imagined being lost in a Disney parking lot, surrounded by dozens of silver Vues, frantically trying to isolate ours. I thought the two grays and Deep Blue were rather dark, although not intolerable, and maroon was pretty but the old wive's tale about red cars getting hit more often was dancing in the back of my head (even tho' maroon Canyonero was unscathed for six years).
Since the only two cars on the lot that fit our criteria were Deep Blue and Gold Cashmere, that narrowed things down considerably. I knew hubby was cringing at the Cashmere, although he would have deferred to me. But I knew he really liked the Deep Blue, as he once owned a Neon in almost the exact same color. We named that car Bruiser, since its paint was the type that shifts color depending on how the light hits it. It went from blue to purple to almost black. I gave my blessing to his choice and the Deep Blue car officially became Canyonero's replacement.
Paperwork always takes too darned long, but that's a given with car buying. We plugged through all the documents and signatures and probably made the finance person's day by buying an extended warranty. I know they're overpriced and Consumer Reports advises against them, but for us it was worth knowing we would have five years of bumper to bumper peace of mind, backed by GM (NEVER by an off-brand warranty). Ironically, every time we've bought one it has ended up more than paying for itself in car repairs somewhere down the line.
Eventually everything was signed and sealed. I made poor hubby go over the numbers just to make sure they didn't slip anything in; after our experiences at the other dealerships I was wary. But all was well, and soon enough the salesman was pulling our new car to the front with its first full tank of gas. It only had 7 miles on it and was still reeking of that wonderful new car smell. We named it B2 (i.e. Bruiser II) in honor of hubby's former blue car.
Next it was off to CarMax to sell poor Canyonero. I got lost making my way to 417 and had a chance to try out OnStar's navigation service firsthand (you get a year of free service with a new Vue). I have to say it was pretty cool!
Now I'll have to watch CarMax's site to see if they put Canyonero on their Orlando lot. I suspect they will, as CarMax seems to do a pretty good business in Teks. It only has 44,000 miles on it, which is great for a 2002. I hope that whatever new family buys it will love it as much as I did and get some more good years of use from it.
Goodbye, Canyonero...it's truly the end of an era!
So it was for Canyonero, my trusty 2002 Pontiac Aztek that served us faithfully for six years and rolled safely through a Georgia ice storm to delivery hubby and I, along with two fish, three cats and a bird, safely from Chicago to Duloc Manor.
I have no photos of Canyonero, but the pics. below are an accurate representation:
I loved its boxy butt and its general homeliness. It was my first SUV, and I hate SUVs, so it was a way of subtly thumbing my nose even as I gave in to a desire for safety and space. At the time, I was driving a micro-Neon, so with 80% of the cars on the road being big, honkin' SUVs that could crush me flat I knew I had to get something to put me on equal footing. But that didn't mean I had to like it, and it pleased me to know that my hideous vehicle was borderline painful to look at. But that was then and this is now...there are much uglier vehicles than the Tek. Still, in its day it was considered...uh...unusual.
I came to love the Tek, which was well equipped at a reasonable price and which had tons of room and all sorts of little comforts. It even had take-away storage bags in the doors and a cooler between the driver and passenger seats. If they were still available, I would have bought a new one in a minute.
But alas, they are not and Canyonero was starting to show its age. First a power window problem, then the body control module. We had those things fixed; next, the air conditioning went out (which is a fatal flaw in Florida) and the brakes started squeaking. Was our beloved vehicle going to become a money pit? Sadly, we decided it wasn't worth the gamble.
Since Azteks have gone the way of the dodo and Florida orange groves, we studied up an decided on a Saturn Vue. It's still a GM product and, like the Tek, the base model is pretty loaded. Also, I am eligible for a GM supplier discount so we'd get a little money off the Saturn pre-set price. We wanted a 4cylinder base XE model with no extras and were almost 100 percent open on the color. Should be an easy purchase, right?
Arghhhhhhh!
First, it's virtually impossible to find a 4 cylinder XE with no options. Most have the preferred package or a bunch of things we'd never use, like a CD changer and roof rails, that boost the price by hundreds of dollars.
Next up is a common Florida trick: loading them with dealer options that add no value, like paint protector and fabric coating ($599), window tint ($199), and pinstripe ($199). The actual cost is pennies on the dollar, but they boost dealer profit by upping the price of the car by $1000 or more. For some reason this was not as predominant in Illinois except at certain dealerships. In FL it seems to happen across the board.
Last but not least there's another money-waster that is as common in Florida as lizards and lovebugs, although it's a problem in other states too: the documentation fee. In theory, it's for filling out paperwork etc. although that would be akin to your doctor adding on a $25 receptionist fee and $15 paperwork generation fee to your office visit. Still, if it was reasonable I wouldn't balk. In Illinois it's capped right around $5o by law. In America's Wang, which has no such restriction, it can run anywhere from $299 to $99. That's almost pure profit! Thankfully (or so I thought), it's capped at $75 under the supplier program.
But as we started looking, I quickly discovered that the cap is "voluntary," and fully 50 percent of the dealers we spoke to didn't want to honor it. When I mentioned it to the first dealer we called, the person I spoke with acted as though I had just said, "Your mother wears combat boots and should have killed herself the day before you were born." Jeez, all I was asking for was something GM said I was entitled to! They promptly got crossed off the list.
The first one we actually visited in person also gave me guff about the doc. fee. They also didn't want to budget on the worthless extras, although they finally offered 'em at half price and acted like it was the best deal since Manhattan was purchased from the Indians for $24. Since we already had financing worked out, they would have had an easy sale if they'd simply sold us the vehicle at the pre-set supplier price with the proper doc. fee and without charges for the bogus extras. But they dug in their heels, so we walked.
We checked with another dealership that sounded good on the phone but that changed their tune when we walked in the door. Also, their XE Vues all had the preferred package which is a legitimate up-charge but which we just didn't want or need. It featured things like heating mirrors (uh, this is FLORIDA!) and a power seat. I still might have considered it but they, too, clung to the charges for padded extras so once again we hit the road.
We called another dealership that was amendable to the proper supplier price and doc. fee, but they just didn't have the car we wanted. Once again, their lot was full of preferred packages. Sigh! They said they could order a car to our specs, but there was no guarantee that the current rebates would still be in force.
At this point, we were feeling rather defeated. Maybe it was a sign that we should just keep Canyonero, fix the air conditioning and brakes, and pray for the best. Still, I am nothing if not a thorough researcher when I'm considering a big purchase. I found one more dealership that actually appeared to have two suitable Vues. No preferred package! Granted, they had $80 floor mats but I figured I could suck it up and pay for those if everything was in order.
I called to confirm that the cars were still available and explained right off the bat that I wasn't going to pay for bogus extras package. No problem. The cars actually had $1400 in dealer additions but that was removed from the equation up front. Then we got to the doc. fee and hit a sticking point; they would only go as low as $150. That rankled me; not so much the amount as the principle. If the GM program says $75 then that's what it should be. I hung up at an impasse but decided to take a ride out there. If I was standing there was a check in hand, perhaps they would make that final concession.
Hubby and I piled into Canyonero for one last shot at replacing it. We had already gotten a good quote for it at CarMax, so if we sealed the deal we'd be stopping there to sell it. My excitement at potentially finding the right Vue after such a long and fruitless search was tempered somewhat by feelings of melancholy at the prospect of losing my boxy maroon friend. Still, after all the game playing, hubby was only giving us 50/50 odds of making a deal so perhaps Canyonero would remain in the family after all.
At the dealership, we made a beeline for the Vues but were inadvertently heading for the used car section. Fortunately a salesman popped out to point us in the right direction. I explained that we had spoken to a manager over the phone and gave him our bottom line. He showed us the two suitable cars and then we went inside for the classic kabitzing with the manager.
At first I got the same $150 doc. fee line that I had gotten on the phone; at least they were as good as their word in removing the padded extras from the equation right off the bat. I reiterated that I had my bottom line and that I would buy right that moment if they would give on the $75. The manager and salesman went off for more discussion; as time ticked away, I asked hubby, "Want to go outside and look at the cars?" That's a virtually sure-fire way to hurry things up. They don't like you to leave the sanctity of the showroom; outside is much too close to leaving. Sure enough, we didn't even make it to the door before they intercepted us with the good news that we had a meeting of the minds on our numbers. We'd be getting our new Vue after all!
Now it was time to commit to a color. From the start, hubby's preference had been orange but those were virtually impossible to find, especially in a stripped down XE. I favored Gold Cashmere and Mystic Blue (he also liked the blue). I could have lived with the Sea Mist Green, but hubby hated it with a passion so we dismissed it out of hand. We also dismissed black because it's too dark and I want a visible car and white just because it doesn't ring our chimes. Silver seemed to be popular on the car lots, but although we didn't totally eliminate it hubby wasn't thrilled about it because it's the most common rental car color. He imagined being lost in a Disney parking lot, surrounded by dozens of silver Vues, frantically trying to isolate ours. I thought the two grays and Deep Blue were rather dark, although not intolerable, and maroon was pretty but the old wive's tale about red cars getting hit more often was dancing in the back of my head (even tho' maroon Canyonero was unscathed for six years).
Since the only two cars on the lot that fit our criteria were Deep Blue and Gold Cashmere, that narrowed things down considerably. I knew hubby was cringing at the Cashmere, although he would have deferred to me. But I knew he really liked the Deep Blue, as he once owned a Neon in almost the exact same color. We named that car Bruiser, since its paint was the type that shifts color depending on how the light hits it. It went from blue to purple to almost black. I gave my blessing to his choice and the Deep Blue car officially became Canyonero's replacement.
Paperwork always takes too darned long, but that's a given with car buying. We plugged through all the documents and signatures and probably made the finance person's day by buying an extended warranty. I know they're overpriced and Consumer Reports advises against them, but for us it was worth knowing we would have five years of bumper to bumper peace of mind, backed by GM (NEVER by an off-brand warranty). Ironically, every time we've bought one it has ended up more than paying for itself in car repairs somewhere down the line.
Eventually everything was signed and sealed. I made poor hubby go over the numbers just to make sure they didn't slip anything in; after our experiences at the other dealerships I was wary. But all was well, and soon enough the salesman was pulling our new car to the front with its first full tank of gas. It only had 7 miles on it and was still reeking of that wonderful new car smell. We named it B2 (i.e. Bruiser II) in honor of hubby's former blue car.
Next it was off to CarMax to sell poor Canyonero. I got lost making my way to 417 and had a chance to try out OnStar's navigation service firsthand (you get a year of free service with a new Vue). I have to say it was pretty cool!
Now I'll have to watch CarMax's site to see if they put Canyonero on their Orlando lot. I suspect they will, as CarMax seems to do a pretty good business in Teks. It only has 44,000 miles on it, which is great for a 2002. I hope that whatever new family buys it will love it as much as I did and get some more good years of use from it.
Goodbye, Canyonero...it's truly the end of an era!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Toys at Sea
This morning I headed out to the Disney Wonder, not to embark on my 62nd cruise (that won't happen till next month), but rather to see the premier of "Toy Story: The Musical."
Actually it wasn't a premiere in the pure sense, since the show's been on board for a couple of weeks now. But it was new to me, and I was anxious to see what had replaced the long-running "Hercules," which had been a staple since the Magic was launched in 1998.
In all of our cruises, we've watched shows come and go; now only one, "Disney Dreams," remains from the beginning, and it was revamped/upgraded recently. Thankfully, the changes were all improvements. They added laser effects, spiffed up the flying, and added Pumba and Timon to the "Lion King" number.
"Disney Dreams" is the signature show, so I can't imagine they would ever change it too drastically. It's a real heartstring-tugger, aimed specifically at the Disney fanatics (such as myself) who make up the majority of their cruisers. It has numbers from such classics as Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast. The Little Mermaid (my favorite number), Aladdin, and Lion King. They're woven around the plotline of a little girl's dream: she wants to fly to the place where dreams come true, but she can only do it by finding her own magic. Fortunately, the Blue Fairy sends Peter Pan to help.
I've seen it so many times that I skip it occasionally now, but my husband never misses it when we sail. Since he's caught some matinees, as well as the regular evening showing, he's probably seen it over 65 times.
The other two original offerings in 1998 were "Hercules," which, as I mentioned, was just retired, and "Voyage of the Ghost Ship." Herc was very corny and didn't make much sense if you never saw the movie, but I still liked it. Hades, Pain and Panic always stole the show. There was some opportunity for ad-libbing, so they kept it fresh by continually updating many of the jokes.
Ghost Ship didn't last too long; it had one revamping, then was pulled altogether and replaced with "The Golden Mickeys." It was kind of dark and had no Disney characters at all; I think those two things played against it. It's a shame it wasn't released later, as with a little tweaking it could have been changed to take advantage of the current Pirate Fever. But alas, it was ahead of its time, and now it's merely the answer to a Disney Cruise Line trivia question.
I like "The Golden Mickeys," which has the theme of an awards show hosted by a relucant backstage hand. The best part is that it features Roy Disney and old-time footage of his uncle Walt. It's rare that you see Walt brought into a show; I love the connection and find it very touching. For a brief time, Whoopi Goldberg replaced Roy as the on-screen co-host, but thankfully he was restored to his rightful place in the show.
I'm probably partial to Golden Mickeys because it features two of my favorite, Stitch and Cruella, plus you've gotta love it when a giant Ursula sticks her giant tentacles almost literally into the first row.
The Magic also has "Twice Charmed," which is probably my current favorite. It's a twist on the Cinderella story, with Lady Tremaine and the wicked stepsisters appealing to their wicked fairy godfather Franco to help them set things "right." He sends them back in time and shrinks poor Cindy to mouse size. I love the masterful blending of drop-screens with the live action, and Franco's big dance number on a lighting staircase (think the sidewalk in "Billy Jean") is phenomenal. Sadly, since we usually sail on the Wonder, I only get to see "Twice Charmed" once or twice a year.
There was once another show called Cest Magique, which then morphed into Morty the Magnificent, but I think it had an even shorter run than Ghost Ship. Personally I liked the first version, but like Ghost Ship it didn't have Disney characters. It was very Cirque de Soliel-like, which apparently just didn't fly with the audiences. The Morty incarnation featured a plot of sorts, as well as Mickey Mouse, but it just never caught on.
Now comes the latest offering: "Toy Story: The Musical." It already has one big thing going for it...it's based on one of the most popular Pixar movies. People always break into hysterical applause at the Toy Story number in Golden Mickeys, so this will give them a bigger dose.
I like the movie, although not nearly as much as my favorite Pixar flick, "The Incredibles." I'm a huge Syndrome fan and love the movie's commentary on the dumbing down of America, with memorable quotes like "When everyone is super, no one is" and "Everyone's special means that no one is." Toy Store has no such heavy philisophical undertone, save for the importance of friendship.
The shipboard Toy Story is an almost completely faithful adaptation of the flick. Obviously, some concessions had to be made for staging it in a limited timeframe and a relatively small area. But I have to hand it to DCL's creative team...they pulled it off much better than I ever imagined they could.
Toy Story takes the use of screens and sets to new heights. It's tricky transitioning from the full-sized human world down to the toy world, but the screens allow it to happen flawlessly, as well as to facilitate scene changes. Most of the scenes take place from the toys' perspective, although Andy and Sid do make their appearances (and you hear Spud barking frequently offstage).
There were some pyrotechnics too (of course there would have to be, considering that Sid plays a major role in the plot), but I was actually even more impressed with Buzz's spaceship. He makes quite an interest! You'll feel the same sense of awe that Andy's playthings do as they gather round.
One thing that distracted me when I originally saw photos of the show was that the various toys are not to the same scale as they are in the movie. For example, Rex is smaller and slinky dog is bigger in comparison to Woody and Buzz. But you pretty much have to chalk that up to the limitations of the stage. Even tho' I am rather anal retentive, I quit noticing the size thing pretty early on. Instead, I was drawn into marvelling at the costumes. You really think you're looking at characters right off the screen. You'll see Slinky Dog, Rex, Ham, and Mr. Potato Head, as well as the green soldiers and monkey from the barrel. The monkeys were the only ones that didn't work for me. Their costumes are orange cloth, which just doesn't jibe with the look of the toy. If you're not familiar with the movie, you might be hard pressed to guess what they are at first.
Woody, Buzz, and Bo Peep are "face" characters, as are (obviously) Andy and Sid. Woody and Buzz were both great in their roles, but the Sid was the total scene stealer. He's much more wicked and depraved in the play than in the movie, and he considers himself an artist of destruction. He brims with manic energy, and his songs are a total riot. I am a big villian fan, and this show gave me a whole new appreciation for Sid. In the final bows, he (or perhaps I should say "she," since he's played by a woman) got some of the loudest clapping and cheers.
The toys in Sid's room are recreated as faithfully as those in Andy's. I marveled at the staging of this show and said a silent prayer that it won't turn into a technical nightmare. But everything worked smoothly at the premiere, and the pace of the show made it seem to fly by.
The only effects that didn't really "work" for me were the first two times that Buzz tries to fly. If you're familiar with the movie, you'll recall that in his first attempt he makes a spectacular showing thanks to a Hot Wheels car and skateboard. The second time, in Sid's house, he jumps off a railing and his not successful, falling and breaking off his arm.
Obviously, skateboards and railings and the like are not too easy to show on stage. The way it's handled just didn't look genuine due to the limitations. I promise you won't be disappointed at the end when Woody and Buzz are launched with the rocket tho'.
You also can't help but love the little green alien dolls in the claw machine. Next to Sid, they were my second favorite thing. I could tell by the reaction of the audience members around me that virtually everyone in the theater shared my opinion.
Overall it's a cute show, and even if you don't like "cute," you can't help but marvel at the technical aspects. I'm looking forward to our next cruise in May so I can see it again and catch all the little details I most likely missed.
It will also be interesting to see if the Toy Story number in the Golden Mickeys is replaced in the near future or if the two with co-exist. I suspect the latter, since Toy Story isn't on the Magic so it's their only dose of Woody.
After the show, it was very difficult to drag myself off the ship. Since I, along with the rest of the crowd, were only there to see the show, we had to disembark immediately once it was over. As I headed down the gangplank, I could see the lucky cruisers milling around in the terminal, eager to begin their "wonder"ful weekend. How I would have liked to join them! But work and responsibility awaited me, so I reluctantly boarded the bus for home.
Oh well, next time I see it I won't have to worry about disembarking so quickly. And even though it will be cruise #62, I'll have yet another new (well, mostly new) thing to look forward to.
Visit my Celebration, FL website: http://www.celebrationinfo.com/
Click below to visit online counseling office at Kasamba:
Actually it wasn't a premiere in the pure sense, since the show's been on board for a couple of weeks now. But it was new to me, and I was anxious to see what had replaced the long-running "Hercules," which had been a staple since the Magic was launched in 1998.
In all of our cruises, we've watched shows come and go; now only one, "Disney Dreams," remains from the beginning, and it was revamped/upgraded recently. Thankfully, the changes were all improvements. They added laser effects, spiffed up the flying, and added Pumba and Timon to the "Lion King" number.
"Disney Dreams" is the signature show, so I can't imagine they would ever change it too drastically. It's a real heartstring-tugger, aimed specifically at the Disney fanatics (such as myself) who make up the majority of their cruisers. It has numbers from such classics as Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast. The Little Mermaid (my favorite number), Aladdin, and Lion King. They're woven around the plotline of a little girl's dream: she wants to fly to the place where dreams come true, but she can only do it by finding her own magic. Fortunately, the Blue Fairy sends Peter Pan to help.
I've seen it so many times that I skip it occasionally now, but my husband never misses it when we sail. Since he's caught some matinees, as well as the regular evening showing, he's probably seen it over 65 times.
The other two original offerings in 1998 were "Hercules," which, as I mentioned, was just retired, and "Voyage of the Ghost Ship." Herc was very corny and didn't make much sense if you never saw the movie, but I still liked it. Hades, Pain and Panic always stole the show. There was some opportunity for ad-libbing, so they kept it fresh by continually updating many of the jokes.
Ghost Ship didn't last too long; it had one revamping, then was pulled altogether and replaced with "The Golden Mickeys." It was kind of dark and had no Disney characters at all; I think those two things played against it. It's a shame it wasn't released later, as with a little tweaking it could have been changed to take advantage of the current Pirate Fever. But alas, it was ahead of its time, and now it's merely the answer to a Disney Cruise Line trivia question.
I like "The Golden Mickeys," which has the theme of an awards show hosted by a relucant backstage hand. The best part is that it features Roy Disney and old-time footage of his uncle Walt. It's rare that you see Walt brought into a show; I love the connection and find it very touching. For a brief time, Whoopi Goldberg replaced Roy as the on-screen co-host, but thankfully he was restored to his rightful place in the show.
I'm probably partial to Golden Mickeys because it features two of my favorite, Stitch and Cruella, plus you've gotta love it when a giant Ursula sticks her giant tentacles almost literally into the first row.
The Magic also has "Twice Charmed," which is probably my current favorite. It's a twist on the Cinderella story, with Lady Tremaine and the wicked stepsisters appealing to their wicked fairy godfather Franco to help them set things "right." He sends them back in time and shrinks poor Cindy to mouse size. I love the masterful blending of drop-screens with the live action, and Franco's big dance number on a lighting staircase (think the sidewalk in "Billy Jean") is phenomenal. Sadly, since we usually sail on the Wonder, I only get to see "Twice Charmed" once or twice a year.
There was once another show called Cest Magique, which then morphed into Morty the Magnificent, but I think it had an even shorter run than Ghost Ship. Personally I liked the first version, but like Ghost Ship it didn't have Disney characters. It was very Cirque de Soliel-like, which apparently just didn't fly with the audiences. The Morty incarnation featured a plot of sorts, as well as Mickey Mouse, but it just never caught on.
Now comes the latest offering: "Toy Story: The Musical." It already has one big thing going for it...it's based on one of the most popular Pixar movies. People always break into hysterical applause at the Toy Story number in Golden Mickeys, so this will give them a bigger dose.
I like the movie, although not nearly as much as my favorite Pixar flick, "The Incredibles." I'm a huge Syndrome fan and love the movie's commentary on the dumbing down of America, with memorable quotes like "When everyone is super, no one is" and "Everyone's special means that no one is." Toy Store has no such heavy philisophical undertone, save for the importance of friendship.
The shipboard Toy Story is an almost completely faithful adaptation of the flick. Obviously, some concessions had to be made for staging it in a limited timeframe and a relatively small area. But I have to hand it to DCL's creative team...they pulled it off much better than I ever imagined they could.
Toy Story takes the use of screens and sets to new heights. It's tricky transitioning from the full-sized human world down to the toy world, but the screens allow it to happen flawlessly, as well as to facilitate scene changes. Most of the scenes take place from the toys' perspective, although Andy and Sid do make their appearances (and you hear Spud barking frequently offstage).
There were some pyrotechnics too (of course there would have to be, considering that Sid plays a major role in the plot), but I was actually even more impressed with Buzz's spaceship. He makes quite an interest! You'll feel the same sense of awe that Andy's playthings do as they gather round.
One thing that distracted me when I originally saw photos of the show was that the various toys are not to the same scale as they are in the movie. For example, Rex is smaller and slinky dog is bigger in comparison to Woody and Buzz. But you pretty much have to chalk that up to the limitations of the stage. Even tho' I am rather anal retentive, I quit noticing the size thing pretty early on. Instead, I was drawn into marvelling at the costumes. You really think you're looking at characters right off the screen. You'll see Slinky Dog, Rex, Ham, and Mr. Potato Head, as well as the green soldiers and monkey from the barrel. The monkeys were the only ones that didn't work for me. Their costumes are orange cloth, which just doesn't jibe with the look of the toy. If you're not familiar with the movie, you might be hard pressed to guess what they are at first.
Woody, Buzz, and Bo Peep are "face" characters, as are (obviously) Andy and Sid. Woody and Buzz were both great in their roles, but the Sid was the total scene stealer. He's much more wicked and depraved in the play than in the movie, and he considers himself an artist of destruction. He brims with manic energy, and his songs are a total riot. I am a big villian fan, and this show gave me a whole new appreciation for Sid. In the final bows, he (or perhaps I should say "she," since he's played by a woman) got some of the loudest clapping and cheers.
The toys in Sid's room are recreated as faithfully as those in Andy's. I marveled at the staging of this show and said a silent prayer that it won't turn into a technical nightmare. But everything worked smoothly at the premiere, and the pace of the show made it seem to fly by.
The only effects that didn't really "work" for me were the first two times that Buzz tries to fly. If you're familiar with the movie, you'll recall that in his first attempt he makes a spectacular showing thanks to a Hot Wheels car and skateboard. The second time, in Sid's house, he jumps off a railing and his not successful, falling and breaking off his arm.
Obviously, skateboards and railings and the like are not too easy to show on stage. The way it's handled just didn't look genuine due to the limitations. I promise you won't be disappointed at the end when Woody and Buzz are launched with the rocket tho'.
You also can't help but love the little green alien dolls in the claw machine. Next to Sid, they were my second favorite thing. I could tell by the reaction of the audience members around me that virtually everyone in the theater shared my opinion.
Overall it's a cute show, and even if you don't like "cute," you can't help but marvel at the technical aspects. I'm looking forward to our next cruise in May so I can see it again and catch all the little details I most likely missed.
It will also be interesting to see if the Toy Story number in the Golden Mickeys is replaced in the near future or if the two with co-exist. I suspect the latter, since Toy Story isn't on the Magic so it's their only dose of Woody.
After the show, it was very difficult to drag myself off the ship. Since I, along with the rest of the crowd, were only there to see the show, we had to disembark immediately once it was over. As I headed down the gangplank, I could see the lucky cruisers milling around in the terminal, eager to begin their "wonder"ful weekend. How I would have liked to join them! But work and responsibility awaited me, so I reluctantly boarded the bus for home.
Oh well, next time I see it I won't have to worry about disembarking so quickly. And even though it will be cruise #62, I'll have yet another new (well, mostly new) thing to look forward to.
Visit my Celebration, FL website: http://www.celebrationinfo.com/
Click below to visit online counseling office at Kasamba:
Sunday, April 06, 2008
The Monsoons Continue
It looks like the rainy season has come to Florida early this year. In a continuation of yesterday's wet and wild weather, today featured almost non-stop downpours too. There was a lull in the morning that allowed us to grab some hot tub time, but it started raining midway through our soak and we just got out in time to avoid the thunder and lightning.
I've been feeling very theme park-deprived lately, but it wasn't a good day to even remotely consider a Disney or Universal jaunt. Well, actually we did go to Disney, but it was to enjoy a delicious dinner at Artist Point rather braving any of the parks.
Although we would have loved Ohana, getting reservations there is only slightly less difficult than finding a really good episode of "South Park" in the last two seasons. We can usually get into Artist Point or Jiko; hubby was dead set on the former, since he had a taste for mussels and their nectar-of-the-gods cream of mushroom soup.
I called WDW-DINE and managed to secure a 6 p.m. reservation. We figured that if we could just make it through the waterfall pouring down the back door stoop and into the Family Truckster, we'd have it made. It's a pretty easy jaunt to the Wilderness Lodge; turn at the second start on the right (or more realistically at World Drive) and go straight on till morning, or at least till you hit the Magic Kingdom parking toll booth.
We dashed out to the car and sloshed down the sodden streets, heading towards our culinary reward. Thankfully we have a Disney Dining Experience card, which gives us valet parking. Even with a few bucks for the tip, it's well worth not having to swim from the nether reaches of the tourist-clotted parking lot to the hotel.
The card also gives you 20 percent off your bill, including alcohol. There's an annual fee involved, but if you're a frequent diner at the Disney restaurants it quickly pays for itself. There was some controversy this year because when when you use your DDE card, an 18 percent gratuity is automatically slapped on your tab. I'm not really sure why it caused so much trauma; we tip 20 percent for good service anyway. But apparently many people were tipping on the discounted amount vs. the true bill, so this is a way to ensure that the servers get a fair tip.
The restaurant was more crowded than usual, which hubby attributed to the fact that everyone had been driven back to their hotels from the theme parks, meaning they all needed somewhere convenient to eat. We were seated at a nice window table for two that was out of the main thoroughfare, which we enjoyed. We watched the downpour from our cozy little spot, sipping our favorite drinks. Hubby's is wine, while I always get something called the Northern Exposure. I think it contains vodka, amaretto, kahlau, and a splash of Coca Cola. Sounds weird, but it's delicious.
We split a cheese plate, then he had the mussels while I (of course) had the soup; I kindly deigned to share some with him, not so much out of the goodness of my heart as in hopes of saving room for dessert.
For dinner he had cedar plank salmon, while I indulged in a new choice: the chicken. I usually stick with appetizers, but on this evening I was in the mood for a meal. I was a bit concerned because the menu said that the sauce contains anise. I know most people view it as a tasty seasoning, but to me it's a flavor created to torture my tastebuds. Still, I can take it in small doses so I thought I would live on the edge and trying something different.
The chicken turned out to be delicious. It was so moist and tender, and although I could taste the anise it was just one of a panoply of flavors. Hubby loved his salmon, but I knew that he would since that is one of his "regulars" at Artist Point. We're both counting the days when they start serving Copper River Salmon this summer; it has a very short season, but it is oh so good.
I managed to save room for something sweet. Eschewing the menu, I asked instead for a scoop of each of the three ice creams/sorbets they offer with several of the dessert items. I had blackberry sorbet, pear sorbet, and honey lavendar ice cream that actually reminded me of the honey coated friend ice cream at Chi Chi's. Ah....memories!
By the time we left, the rain had slacked off only slightly and I was glad that we'd taken the valet option. Soon the Truckster was rolling up to the entrance, and we climbed in and basked in the pleasant glow of alcohol and a good meal for a moment before heading back to Celebration.
I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty in my happiness. All around us at the hotel were sad vacationers who'd pretty much lost two days of their trips to rain. I remember how frustrating that used to be back when I was a Chicagoan for whom Disney was still a remote treat, not just one of a cornacopia of everyday options.
Yes, I still have empathy, but that doesn't mean I'm going to leave Florida and return to their position any time soon. Instead, as we whizzed down World Drive, I basked in the pleasure of knowing that when the sunshine finally returned to give legitamcy to Florida's nickname, I would still be here and able to pop over to the theme parks at my leisure. Rain or shine, it's great to live next door to Disney World, and I don't think the novelty will ever wear off.
Visit my Celebration, FL website: http://www.celebrationinfo.com/
Click below to visit online counseling office at Kasamba:
I've been feeling very theme park-deprived lately, but it wasn't a good day to even remotely consider a Disney or Universal jaunt. Well, actually we did go to Disney, but it was to enjoy a delicious dinner at Artist Point rather braving any of the parks.
Although we would have loved Ohana, getting reservations there is only slightly less difficult than finding a really good episode of "South Park" in the last two seasons. We can usually get into Artist Point or Jiko; hubby was dead set on the former, since he had a taste for mussels and their nectar-of-the-gods cream of mushroom soup.
I called WDW-DINE and managed to secure a 6 p.m. reservation. We figured that if we could just make it through the waterfall pouring down the back door stoop and into the Family Truckster, we'd have it made. It's a pretty easy jaunt to the Wilderness Lodge; turn at the second start on the right (or more realistically at World Drive) and go straight on till morning, or at least till you hit the Magic Kingdom parking toll booth.
We dashed out to the car and sloshed down the sodden streets, heading towards our culinary reward. Thankfully we have a Disney Dining Experience card, which gives us valet parking. Even with a few bucks for the tip, it's well worth not having to swim from the nether reaches of the tourist-clotted parking lot to the hotel.
The card also gives you 20 percent off your bill, including alcohol. There's an annual fee involved, but if you're a frequent diner at the Disney restaurants it quickly pays for itself. There was some controversy this year because when when you use your DDE card, an 18 percent gratuity is automatically slapped on your tab. I'm not really sure why it caused so much trauma; we tip 20 percent for good service anyway. But apparently many people were tipping on the discounted amount vs. the true bill, so this is a way to ensure that the servers get a fair tip.
The restaurant was more crowded than usual, which hubby attributed to the fact that everyone had been driven back to their hotels from the theme parks, meaning they all needed somewhere convenient to eat. We were seated at a nice window table for two that was out of the main thoroughfare, which we enjoyed. We watched the downpour from our cozy little spot, sipping our favorite drinks. Hubby's is wine, while I always get something called the Northern Exposure. I think it contains vodka, amaretto, kahlau, and a splash of Coca Cola. Sounds weird, but it's delicious.
We split a cheese plate, then he had the mussels while I (of course) had the soup; I kindly deigned to share some with him, not so much out of the goodness of my heart as in hopes of saving room for dessert.
For dinner he had cedar plank salmon, while I indulged in a new choice: the chicken. I usually stick with appetizers, but on this evening I was in the mood for a meal. I was a bit concerned because the menu said that the sauce contains anise. I know most people view it as a tasty seasoning, but to me it's a flavor created to torture my tastebuds. Still, I can take it in small doses so I thought I would live on the edge and trying something different.
The chicken turned out to be delicious. It was so moist and tender, and although I could taste the anise it was just one of a panoply of flavors. Hubby loved his salmon, but I knew that he would since that is one of his "regulars" at Artist Point. We're both counting the days when they start serving Copper River Salmon this summer; it has a very short season, but it is oh so good.
I managed to save room for something sweet. Eschewing the menu, I asked instead for a scoop of each of the three ice creams/sorbets they offer with several of the dessert items. I had blackberry sorbet, pear sorbet, and honey lavendar ice cream that actually reminded me of the honey coated friend ice cream at Chi Chi's. Ah....memories!
By the time we left, the rain had slacked off only slightly and I was glad that we'd taken the valet option. Soon the Truckster was rolling up to the entrance, and we climbed in and basked in the pleasant glow of alcohol and a good meal for a moment before heading back to Celebration.
I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty in my happiness. All around us at the hotel were sad vacationers who'd pretty much lost two days of their trips to rain. I remember how frustrating that used to be back when I was a Chicagoan for whom Disney was still a remote treat, not just one of a cornacopia of everyday options.
Yes, I still have empathy, but that doesn't mean I'm going to leave Florida and return to their position any time soon. Instead, as we whizzed down World Drive, I basked in the pleasure of knowing that when the sunshine finally returned to give legitamcy to Florida's nickname, I would still be here and able to pop over to the theme parks at my leisure. Rain or shine, it's great to live next door to Disney World, and I don't think the novelty will ever wear off.
Visit my Celebration, FL website: http://www.celebrationinfo.com/
Click below to visit online counseling office at Kasamba:
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Monsoons and Missing Bookstores
It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, the perfect kind to go to Universal...except that the radar said that rainstorms were coming. Instead hubby and I decided to have a nice lunch at Chevy's and go seek out Books-A-Million. I knew that one is supposed to be coming to The Loop (not the Chicago Loop...a shopping center in Hunters Creek), and I was wondering if it had opened yet.
Hubby looked it up on their corporate website and couldn't find anything out there, but he did find one out towards Universal. That's Outlet Store Land, and I did NOT want to visit an outlet bookstore; he called them, and they assured him that they were a full-fledged store.
It's been ages since I've been to a Books-A-Million. We had one in Chicago, but that one was an outlet. I was hoping this one would be more traditional, as I've run out of true crime books to read and I also wanted to paw through their magazines to get some ideas for new freelance writing markets.
Hubby plotted out the address on Google Maps and we set out on what we thought would be a rather run of the mill shopping trip. We fueled ourselves at Chevy's first; I had my usual combo plate of seafood enchilada, pork tamale, and taquitos. They recently sent out coupons, so that made it all the better. Then we headed off towards Dr. Phillips, where we'd pick up I-Drive at Sand Lake Road. I knew that it would be traffic hell, but such is the sacrifice you make to live in Tourist Land.
Unfortunately, the rain decided to come with a vengence. In Florida, heavy rain is indescribable compared to anything I've ever experienced in Chicago. It's not just a downpour but a veritable wall of rain that obscures everything but a tiny glint of the tail lights of the car in front of you. The windshield looks as though the troops of Heaven are slinging endless buckets of water at your car. Being caught in a monsoon in the middle of tourist traffic is not fun.
As we headed down I-Drive towards Kirkland, I said to hubby, "Watch some idiot go running out in front of the cars." Sure enough, Brainless Tourist came zipping out and nearly got splattered by the cars in front of me. Oh well, even if he'd been struck, the downpour would have washed the asphalt clean of his blood in mere minutes.
It took some maneuvering and confusion, but we finally found the strip mall where Books-A-Million was supposedly located. There was no sign whatsoever, but hubby had the address in hand so we slowly circled the lot. Squinting through the downpour, he exclaimed, "There it is!", pointed to a huge abandoned store. Indeed, the address matched...but how could he have talked to them on the phone just an hour or so earlier? There's no way they could have cleared out a store that size so quickly, especially in the driving rain.
He rang them up again, and they told him they had moved (thanks, Books-A-Million Webmaster, for keeping your site so wonderfully up to date). Armed with a new set of directions, we set off into traffic hell once again, although the rain was still smothering the hellfires with its vicious onslaught.
At one red light, we encountered a blue Mustang that decided it absolutely HAD to get in front of us in the right lane, despite the fact that there was literally no one behind us. This was not a good time to challenge me; I might have had mercy if there wasn't a whole open lane behind me, but the aggressive little idiot inching his way over in an open challenge wasn't exactly endearing himself to me. Perhaps he thought I was some wimpy rental car driver afraid to get a dent because I resisted the insurance coverage hardsell. Sadly, I didn't have my neon "Local! BEWARE!" sign hooked up in the side window, so I simply made sure that if he kept coming over, he was going to hit me and end up paying a pretty big whiplash settlement. Eventually he gave up and moved in behind the Family Truckster, pouting the whole way.
We pulled into the area where Books-A-Million was supposedly located, but alas, there was no sign of anything other than dubious-looking "flea markets." Hubby hadn't bothered to ask for the address, so we drove around in rain, trying to avoid the drowned-rat pedestrians who kept popping out from between parked cars like some bizarre video game. He called the store back, but couldn't make heads or tails out of their new directions. Thankfully he got an address this time, but it only brought more confusion. They told him, "If you get to Kirkman, you've gone too far," yet their address was on Kirkman.
At this point, I was ready to choke someone, but hubby was decidedly more mellow since he had indulged in a margarita at lunch. My mood was not improved when we went the wrong way on Kirkman and ended up at Lockheed Martin. In getting out of there, we somehow literally ended up back where we started, on freakin' Sand Lake Road. Arghhhhhh!
At this point hubby was ready to call it quits, but there was no way that I was letting an hour of driving in a downpour go to waste. Better yet, our gas was getting low; I figured that a plague of grasshoppers would be next.
We made it back to Kirkman, although hubby had me turn the wrong way again. I managed to make a U-turn before we got trapped at Lockheed Martin again, and we finally managed to get pointed in the right direction. At this point, I'd begun to suspect that it was actually this store rather than the Fountain of Youth that Ponce deLeon had been seeking when he came to Florida. He only changed the object of his quest when he spent so long seeking it that he realized he'd become an octegenarian in his lengthy pursuit.
Finally! We found the freakin' bookstore. When I first caught sight of the Books-A-Million sign, I swear I heard angels singing in the background. We sprinted through the front door and into a huge netherworld of books, ringed by a magazine section that spanned the entire back wall.
Sadly, they were out of the one magazine I wanted most, but they had plenty of others for me to paw through. Better yet, their True Crime section encompassed three whole shelves! Sadly, I still already had the majority of the books, but I found almost a dozen new ones (which, at my rate of reading, will last a couple of weeks). Hubby found some sort of Nascar magazine that put him in a coma of happiness. We had some coffee to soothe our nerves, and the barrista informed hubby that the store was moving yet again in the near future! He also said that Hunters Creek hasn't opened yet and it will still be a while.
I won't even document the journey home, except to say that I-4 in a monsoon adds a hellaciousness factor of x100 to its usual horror. But at least I had my precious bounty of magazines and books packed safely in the Family Truckster. It had been a challenge to get them, but we'd found the elusive Books-A-Million and lived to tell the tale. After making it through that mess, I think we're ready to tackle a trip to find the Holy Grail!
Visit my Celebration, FL website: http://www.celebrationinfo.com/
Click below to visit online counseling office at Kasamba:
Hubby looked it up on their corporate website and couldn't find anything out there, but he did find one out towards Universal. That's Outlet Store Land, and I did NOT want to visit an outlet bookstore; he called them, and they assured him that they were a full-fledged store.
It's been ages since I've been to a Books-A-Million. We had one in Chicago, but that one was an outlet. I was hoping this one would be more traditional, as I've run out of true crime books to read and I also wanted to paw through their magazines to get some ideas for new freelance writing markets.
Hubby plotted out the address on Google Maps and we set out on what we thought would be a rather run of the mill shopping trip. We fueled ourselves at Chevy's first; I had my usual combo plate of seafood enchilada, pork tamale, and taquitos. They recently sent out coupons, so that made it all the better. Then we headed off towards Dr. Phillips, where we'd pick up I-Drive at Sand Lake Road. I knew that it would be traffic hell, but such is the sacrifice you make to live in Tourist Land.
Unfortunately, the rain decided to come with a vengence. In Florida, heavy rain is indescribable compared to anything I've ever experienced in Chicago. It's not just a downpour but a veritable wall of rain that obscures everything but a tiny glint of the tail lights of the car in front of you. The windshield looks as though the troops of Heaven are slinging endless buckets of water at your car. Being caught in a monsoon in the middle of tourist traffic is not fun.
As we headed down I-Drive towards Kirkland, I said to hubby, "Watch some idiot go running out in front of the cars." Sure enough, Brainless Tourist came zipping out and nearly got splattered by the cars in front of me. Oh well, even if he'd been struck, the downpour would have washed the asphalt clean of his blood in mere minutes.
It took some maneuvering and confusion, but we finally found the strip mall where Books-A-Million was supposedly located. There was no sign whatsoever, but hubby had the address in hand so we slowly circled the lot. Squinting through the downpour, he exclaimed, "There it is!", pointed to a huge abandoned store. Indeed, the address matched...but how could he have talked to them on the phone just an hour or so earlier? There's no way they could have cleared out a store that size so quickly, especially in the driving rain.
He rang them up again, and they told him they had moved (thanks, Books-A-Million Webmaster, for keeping your site so wonderfully up to date). Armed with a new set of directions, we set off into traffic hell once again, although the rain was still smothering the hellfires with its vicious onslaught.
At one red light, we encountered a blue Mustang that decided it absolutely HAD to get in front of us in the right lane, despite the fact that there was literally no one behind us. This was not a good time to challenge me; I might have had mercy if there wasn't a whole open lane behind me, but the aggressive little idiot inching his way over in an open challenge wasn't exactly endearing himself to me. Perhaps he thought I was some wimpy rental car driver afraid to get a dent because I resisted the insurance coverage hardsell. Sadly, I didn't have my neon "Local! BEWARE!" sign hooked up in the side window, so I simply made sure that if he kept coming over, he was going to hit me and end up paying a pretty big whiplash settlement. Eventually he gave up and moved in behind the Family Truckster, pouting the whole way.
We pulled into the area where Books-A-Million was supposedly located, but alas, there was no sign of anything other than dubious-looking "flea markets." Hubby hadn't bothered to ask for the address, so we drove around in rain, trying to avoid the drowned-rat pedestrians who kept popping out from between parked cars like some bizarre video game. He called the store back, but couldn't make heads or tails out of their new directions. Thankfully he got an address this time, but it only brought more confusion. They told him, "If you get to Kirkman, you've gone too far," yet their address was on Kirkman.
At this point, I was ready to choke someone, but hubby was decidedly more mellow since he had indulged in a margarita at lunch. My mood was not improved when we went the wrong way on Kirkman and ended up at Lockheed Martin. In getting out of there, we somehow literally ended up back where we started, on freakin' Sand Lake Road. Arghhhhhh!
At this point hubby was ready to call it quits, but there was no way that I was letting an hour of driving in a downpour go to waste. Better yet, our gas was getting low; I figured that a plague of grasshoppers would be next.
We made it back to Kirkman, although hubby had me turn the wrong way again. I managed to make a U-turn before we got trapped at Lockheed Martin again, and we finally managed to get pointed in the right direction. At this point, I'd begun to suspect that it was actually this store rather than the Fountain of Youth that Ponce deLeon had been seeking when he came to Florida. He only changed the object of his quest when he spent so long seeking it that he realized he'd become an octegenarian in his lengthy pursuit.
Finally! We found the freakin' bookstore. When I first caught sight of the Books-A-Million sign, I swear I heard angels singing in the background. We sprinted through the front door and into a huge netherworld of books, ringed by a magazine section that spanned the entire back wall.
Sadly, they were out of the one magazine I wanted most, but they had plenty of others for me to paw through. Better yet, their True Crime section encompassed three whole shelves! Sadly, I still already had the majority of the books, but I found almost a dozen new ones (which, at my rate of reading, will last a couple of weeks). Hubby found some sort of Nascar magazine that put him in a coma of happiness. We had some coffee to soothe our nerves, and the barrista informed hubby that the store was moving yet again in the near future! He also said that Hunters Creek hasn't opened yet and it will still be a while.
I won't even document the journey home, except to say that I-4 in a monsoon adds a hellaciousness factor of x100 to its usual horror. But at least I had my precious bounty of magazines and books packed safely in the Family Truckster. It had been a challenge to get them, but we'd found the elusive Books-A-Million and lived to tell the tale. After making it through that mess, I think we're ready to tackle a trip to find the Holy Grail!
Visit my Celebration, FL website: http://www.celebrationinfo.com/
Click below to visit online counseling office at Kasamba:
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
A Mouse Farts and Fox Orlando Is There
One of my guilty pleasures is watching the courtroom shows like Judge Judy and the People's Court. I've been a fan ever since the days of Judge Wapner, so when we moved to Florida and I discovered there is a solid block on from 3 p.m. to 7 p.m. I was estatic. I work at home, so I can run my businesses with my favorite shows playing in the background.
Unfortunately the first half of the block, from 3 to 5 p.m., is on Fox Orlando. I say unfortunately because this is a channel that breaks into programming for extended tedious news coverage whenever a mouse farts anywhere in the state of Florida. I've never seen a station that will manufacture news out of the most innocuous happening just so they can break into their shows. The news woman must be desperate for airtime, but sadly the viewers are not desperate to see her. For God's sake, Lady, wait until the News at 5!
Better yet, often there will be a news story that is long over, but the intrepid news team will still break in to give totally unnecessary updates, presumably because they enjoy hearing the sound of their own voices and believe that all of Orlando shares that love.
The weatherman seems to be jealous as he takes any opportunity to grab his own extended break-in coverage. My favorite was when a tornado struck in Cocoa Beach recently. It was over quickly and only did minor damage, and no one was hurt. But Fox News broken in for over an hour, till I finally got disgusted with the weatherman's obvious love of his computer mouse. He endlessly toggled back and forth between Google Earth and the radar maps, intoning the same news over and over again, which boiled down to: Tornado touchdown. Minor damage. No one hurt. This takes more than an hour to report?
Sadly, today both the newswoman and the weatherman managed to break into my court shows for non-events. First it was Breaking News, even tho' it was well past 4 p.m. and the "news" had occurred somewhere around noon. A suspicious person with equally suspicious luggage was arrested at Orlando airport. Okay, it's long over. Nobody was hurt. But Fox still saw fit to break in, hours later, for some reason I still haven't figured out.
This obviously piqued the weatherman's jealousy, as less than an hour later he had to break in with this stunning information: A thunderstorm is over an unpopulated area. Ooooo, scary! Nothing special about the storm. Nothing special about the fact that the rest of Florida is probably going to get storms later. But the newswoman got extra coverage, so he had to grasp at straws to make sure he got his fair share. I can just imagine his glee when he spotted that red dot on the radar:
"A storm! A storm! This warrants a break into programming! Yeah, it's not threatening anybody, and yeah, storms are a commonplace part of Florida life, but I didn't get my extra-special camera time today so I'm going to run with it. Now let's see, can I fit in a reference to that tornado touchdown in Cocoa a couple months ago? If so, maybe I can leverage that into playing with the radar and Google Earth on air for an hour or two."
Happily, it's back to the court shows now, and in another few minutes I'll be switching to another block on a channel that doesn't share Fox Orlando's obsession with constant break-ins (although ironically I think it's actually owned by Fox too).
But in the meantime, if a leaf falls anywhere within 500 miles of Orlando, I can rest assured that when I'm tuned to "People's Court" I'll be the first to hear about it.
Visit my Celebration, FL website: http://www.celebrationinfo.com/
Click below to visit online counseling office at Kasamba:
Unfortunately the first half of the block, from 3 to 5 p.m., is on Fox Orlando. I say unfortunately because this is a channel that breaks into programming for extended tedious news coverage whenever a mouse farts anywhere in the state of Florida. I've never seen a station that will manufacture news out of the most innocuous happening just so they can break into their shows. The news woman must be desperate for airtime, but sadly the viewers are not desperate to see her. For God's sake, Lady, wait until the News at 5!
Better yet, often there will be a news story that is long over, but the intrepid news team will still break in to give totally unnecessary updates, presumably because they enjoy hearing the sound of their own voices and believe that all of Orlando shares that love.
The weatherman seems to be jealous as he takes any opportunity to grab his own extended break-in coverage. My favorite was when a tornado struck in Cocoa Beach recently. It was over quickly and only did minor damage, and no one was hurt. But Fox News broken in for over an hour, till I finally got disgusted with the weatherman's obvious love of his computer mouse. He endlessly toggled back and forth between Google Earth and the radar maps, intoning the same news over and over again, which boiled down to: Tornado touchdown. Minor damage. No one hurt. This takes more than an hour to report?
Sadly, today both the newswoman and the weatherman managed to break into my court shows for non-events. First it was Breaking News, even tho' it was well past 4 p.m. and the "news" had occurred somewhere around noon. A suspicious person with equally suspicious luggage was arrested at Orlando airport. Okay, it's long over. Nobody was hurt. But Fox still saw fit to break in, hours later, for some reason I still haven't figured out.
This obviously piqued the weatherman's jealousy, as less than an hour later he had to break in with this stunning information: A thunderstorm is over an unpopulated area. Ooooo, scary! Nothing special about the storm. Nothing special about the fact that the rest of Florida is probably going to get storms later. But the newswoman got extra coverage, so he had to grasp at straws to make sure he got his fair share. I can just imagine his glee when he spotted that red dot on the radar:
"A storm! A storm! This warrants a break into programming! Yeah, it's not threatening anybody, and yeah, storms are a commonplace part of Florida life, but I didn't get my extra-special camera time today so I'm going to run with it. Now let's see, can I fit in a reference to that tornado touchdown in Cocoa a couple months ago? If so, maybe I can leverage that into playing with the radar and Google Earth on air for an hour or two."
Happily, it's back to the court shows now, and in another few minutes I'll be switching to another block on a channel that doesn't share Fox Orlando's obsession with constant break-ins (although ironically I think it's actually owned by Fox too).
But in the meantime, if a leaf falls anywhere within 500 miles of Orlando, I can rest assured that when I'm tuned to "People's Court" I'll be the first to hear about it.
Visit my Celebration, FL website: http://www.celebrationinfo.com/
Click below to visit online counseling office at Kasamba:
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