10 days. 12 blogs. Who knew that I would have so much to say about 10 little days. Who would have ever guessed that over the course of those days, we would encounter such memories that would last a lifetime. I don't need to relive them here - after all, you can read all about them in detail. Sorry, kids. There is no Cliffs Notes version. You have to earn it. Before you turn back on today's blog though (there is very little Disney, and a whole slew of airport to discuss!), just wait. Sometimes, we save the best for last. Like Lukas discovering that he has a new career just around the corner! Stay with us.
The OCD person in me was already trying to evaluate the trip, and I discovered that I just wasn't a good time planner. Don't get me wrong - we arrived at every restaurant on the agenda. But when I look back at our "on time" arrivals, I can count one. And it was on our first full day in the parks. How sad is that? Luckily, Disney must be used to people that just can't get their times right. We were almost 20 minutes late at one of our reservations, and yet they didn't question a thing. They also didn't punish us by making us wait, or by putting us next to the bathrooms. Trust me, that would have been punishment. After 10 days, I was wondering what the trip would have been like if I hadn't spent approximately 24% in restrooms. You know you've been in there too much when you start evaluating facilities and finding better approaches to the toilet visit.
If you'll remember, I'd already gone through a dozen iterations. I was on toilet duty and I was going to make sure Miles was going to the bathroom with the smallest inconvenience possible. As I got out of bed and dressed, I kind of laughed. Sitting on the floor by the toilet was the toilet seat that we had bought. Perhaps I should have just found a portable version that we could have fit in our 2-ton stroller! But I had perfected my routine. When Miles needed to go to the bathroom, I had my OCD checklist ready to go.
First step was to find the right stall. And after careful exploration of all options, I became a fan of the Handicapped stall. Sure, I was probably inconveniencing disabled guests all over that need to go #1 or #2, but I figured my overall strategy saved me enough time that they could wait. Why did I like the handicapped stall? First of all, I didn't feel like I was straddling over Miles while he went to the bathroom. These things were roomy. Some of them could have had their very own chaise lounge and you would have still had room for a television or something! More convenient, however, was the fact that nearly every handicapped stall had its own sink. No heading up to the public sinks and walking away with a streak of water across Miles' chest. No sir. We could wash our hands in peace! Plus, after what Miles had started to do in these restrooms, I might have to wash his hands 2-3 times a visit.
I had given up on the "Miles can leave his pants on" approach to things. The day that he wet his pants because he was literally peeing only enough to fill a thimble? That cured me of that. I knew the pants would have to come off, but again, I didn't want the pants on the floor. And I needed to start teaching Miles some decorum and privacy. Lukas is a sort of exhibitionist. Not only does he walk around the house as if he's the member of a nudist colony - Lukas has long since graduated to the urinals in the bathroom. The problem is that he hasn't realized that your butt is the perfect holding place for your pants. No, he just drops trow, making adults and children alike slightly uncomfortable. They think they are getting mooned. Lukas is just comfortable and doesn't want to tinkle on said clothes.
My new approach was to take Miles' pants and underwear off of one leg. I then pulled them up his other leg so it wedged between him and the toilet (but didn't, of course, fall into the toilet itself). Miles would go and say he was done. I'd simply say "more!" Miles would go more. He'd say he was done. I'd again say "more!". He'd go again. While I simply marveled at the level of urinary control the little 2 year old had (the start-stop-start-stop approach seemed rather difficult to keep pulling off), Miles would truly signal he was done by bouncing up and down. I guess that's one way to make sure you don't drip. Onward, my son!
By the time he was done, I only had one leg to deal with...it was much easier to get a shoe through his underwear and pants than it was trying to take shoes off or get both legs on. Miles' reward for being such a good boy was that he got to "push the button" on the automatic flushing mechanisms. Honestly, if I knew something simple would be so rewarding, I'd have skipped on all of the Disney merchandise! I'd wash Miles hands, then he would go touch the toilet, the door, or the floor. I'd wash them again and then spend the next 30 seconds saying "don't touch anything!" Yep, that was my routine. And I had perfected it. You're probably speechless that I just talked about my toilet routine with my two year old for so long. I'm just impressed that I blogged about it. For the world to see. Sweetie, I think I can officially say nothing shames me anymore. My apologies.
Where were we? Oh yes, I just put the cherry on top of my 12 blog adventure by going back to toilets. I guess we truly have come full circle from day 1. Back in the hotel, we had everything packed and were ready to go....and we were early! I couldn't believe it. Maybe it took 10 days, but we weren't going to be rushing today. Wahoo! We called the bellhop to get our stuff, I left a present in the toilet for the next guest, and we were on our way. Wait, that's not what you're supposed to do? Oh dear...
My Dad and I headed to the front desk to check out (it was only 5:00AM...Concierge desks weren't open yet) while Elisa, my Mom, and the kids headed out to the car. We were handed our individual bills and I started reviewing. I quickly discovered that they had double charged us for the car a few days during the trip. Of course they did. Of course we'd get delayed. I pointed it out and the woman said she would have her co-worker fix it. This co-workers was in a backroom, just outside of view. I told my Dad to head out to the car. After all, they were going to fix only my bill. He was set. So I stood there. 5 minutes passed. Elisa sent her first text worrying about being late. 10 minutes passed. No one had said another word to me. Elisa had moved from worrying about being late to being frightened that we'd miss our flight. 15 minutes passed and I was told "it's almost fixed." I sent Elisa a text saying we were almost there. 20 minutes were gone and the off-screen cast member then said "I'm not sure how to fix this!" Say what? Were you having breakfast back there for the first 20 minutes? The original cast member disappeared to help her. Elisa was now sure that we would be stuck in Orlando for the entire day due to this snafu.
Finally, 23 minutes in, the cast member said it was fixed...but they couldn't get it to print. Good grief. I was half tempted to start installing printer drivers on their computer. I simply asked "do I need to sign something, or has it been resolved?" She stated that I didn't need to stay. WHAT? Then why did you have me staring at you for the last 23 minutes? We went from early to 15 minutes behind schedule, and all I got was the opportunity to answer the question "how many Disney Cast Members does it take to print a document?" Yowza. I stomped off to the car. As we drove to the airport, I spent the majority of the time telling Elisa we would make our flight. Hopefully the toll booth workers didn't mind when I just threw the money at them and kept driving at 55 MPH. I'm just kidding. I slowed to 45.
We arrived at the airport about 20 minutes later than I had originally hoped. When we parked the car, I got out, walked to the front, and bear hugged the minivan. Okay, not really. I was more focused on getting Miles, all of our bags, and 2 car seats loaded onto the stroller. Sure enough, I was able to get those car seats, Miles, and about 4 bags perched precariously on the stroller and we started fast walking to the terminal. I was slightly entertained. At Orlando Airport, you have to take an elevator from the terminal to an underground tunnel, and then take an elevator back up to the rental car parking garage. Heading in the opposite direction, we could barely fit our group and bags in the first elevator. It was cramped to say the least. We fell out of the elevator into the underground tunnel. Yet, when we arrived at the next elevator, it was like a spacial 3 bedroom apartment. Apparently they must think that you shrink your stuff when you go through the underground tunnel. Just bizarre design.
We arrived at the Delta desk to check our bags, and I hoisted our space bag packed massive suitcase. We were 8 pounds over. 8 freaking pounds. On Delta, that's the difference between a $25 charge and a $90 charge. I guess it costs a lot for someone to lift 8 more pounds. At that moment, we had a choice. Pay it, or start opening other bags. My parents were way ahead of us. They had their bag open, with the toilet seat sitting right on top. I opened my bag and looked for the heaviest things I could find. Like a drunkard coming off of a Spring break weekend, I found three bottles of wine right at the top (hey, they are the adult souvenirs!). We transferred the wine over, along with another small bag of souvenirs. At the point of re-weighing, we were at 51 pounds. Apparently, 1 pound over is close enough. We only had to pay $25. Thank goodness my parents had the extra room. And I now knew that we had purchased just under 8 pounds of wine. Give or take.
We plowed our way through security in record time, and wouldn't you know it that we ended up right at a Starbucks. I tried to tempt Elisa with one, but flying disagrees with her. Honestly, it is the only time in the history of the world that Elisa will say no to a coffee. I wonder if I offered just so I could say that one time in our life, she declined. We did get some bagels for the family and my parents got a couple coffees. We got the kids to eat, I took Miles to the bathroom...counting the airplane, I was down to three potty breaks...Aww! And before we knew it, they were getting us on the plane. And that is where we met "The Flight Attendant". This was an interesting evolutionary experience. At first, I just adored her. She was slightly older and friendlier than you could even imagine. And she just fell in love with Lukas immediately. Like a shark to chum, Lukas hooked onto the fact that he was getting attention, and they started having a conversation. As we were walking down the aisle to get our seats, she grabbed the intercom and had Lukas tell the entire flight that his trip to Disney World was great! Lukas was loving the attention. I just smiled. That's my boy.
We got in our seats and awaited our flight. Soon enough, the flight attendant was back. She started chatting with Lukas again. Lukas was commanding the conversation, speaking well beyond his 5 years old. And she noticed. Three times, she said that Lukas was a 20 year old in a year old's body. It was clear that he had made an impression. Things were good between me and the flight attendant. And then the relationship started evolving. She started saying "this is my boyfriend! I'm going to marry him! Hey Lukas, look me up when you get a bit older!" It was just a bit weird. Yet we were finally headed home. A 4 hour or so flight, and the trip would be over. Miles apparently knew this too. Because he was going to make us earn the end of our vacation.
On the way to Orlando, he was a little angel. He watched movies, played with Grandma, and ate his snacks. Today, he'd watch 2 minutes of a movie and start farting around looking for something else to do. He did what I call the puppy dog whine, pointing at various things and howling like a little dog. He wanted my cookies, my drink, my video game portable. He wanted Grandma. He wanted to go to the bathroom. He wanted to flush the toilet twice. I'm honestly shocked that he didn't start puppy dog whining that he couldn't fly the plane. Lukas continued to be an angel. So much so, that the flight attendant thought he might want to choose his career now. Lukas had headed to the bathroom with Grandpa...yet, he had been gone a really long time. I was starting to worry. So I turned back and saw a strange sight. I could see my Dad, smiling broadly. I could see the flight attendant, talking to someone about 44 inches tall or so (I knew this from him being measured at Expedition Everest, of course!). And then I saw Lukas with cups. Apparently, on the way back from the bathroom, the flight attendant was so enamored with Lukas that she let him start serving other passengers drinks. Lukas was loving it. My Dad was loving it. I was praying and hoping that my Dad had forced Lukas to wash his hands after using the bathroom.
Once Lukas was back to sitting in his seat, the flight attendant started making flattering comments about the little infant one row in front of us. Here she goes again! She just kept commenting on his smile. She joked that she was going to take a picture of him. Well, I thought she was joking. Until she returned from her seat in the front with her iPhone. Yep, she took the baby's picture and then made some awkward comment about when she felt sad, she would pull the picture of "Ethan" out and have a big pile of peanut butter and ethan smiles! Yes, she said that. I shook my head. This was the strangest "customer service" I had ever witnessed.
3 hours later, we were landing and the flight attendant had apparently been busy. She listed off the cute traits of what had to be nearly every child on the plane. Ethan's smile. Some other kid drew her pictures of what could only be described as horribly disfigured Disney characters that had been through a life trauma. Another kid had awesome eyes. Some other child was nicer than "punch"...and trust me, that's nice. Have you ever met a bowl of punch? They're just humanitarians in a bowl. Quite the people. As we headed to the bathroom, and then got our bags, the reality of the situation was setting in on me. We were back to Utah. The vacation was officially over. We loaded our 12 bags, stroller, and 2 car seats onto the Diamond Parking shuttle and my cute kids just couldn't make the three older ladies sitting across from them smile. Yep, we were back in Utah. We were out of Disney. Everyone was in a piss poor mood.
As we loaded our car with all of our bags, our parents said their goodbyes and Lukas got teary eyed. I was too busy to console him, however. I was slightly panicking. 10 days ago, I had taken the ticket from Diamond Parking and put it "somewhere safe". The problem was, I couldn't remember where I had put it. Safe indeed. It was safe from myself. I started tearing through bags. I started checking my pants (it was like we had lost Mater again!). I started shaking my head at myself...umm, Brad. You weren't wearing these same pants 10 days ago. The chances of the ticket being in your pocket is about -.000000001%. I must have put my common sense in the same "safe place" as I had my Diamond Parking ticket. While I searched, my parents sat in the car next to us...watching. I must have put on a great show. I sat back in the car and checked the console. And then my foot slipped and I broke the handle that opens the gas door. The signs that our vacation was over were flying at me faster than Lukas was getting compliments from the flight attendant.
After tearing through the bags again, I finally found the parking ticket. The parents departed. We departed. And just to ensure we had shown ourselves to be back to the norm, we went to Java Joe's and got Elisa a coffee. Welcome home, dear.
And that concludes the parade of the Pierce Vacation 2012. 10 days, 12 blogs. I hope you enjoyed it. Early next week, I'm going to post some photo blogs to accompany...after all, I've described some of the better experiences. It's about time you saw photo proof. Goodnight now. Until next Pierce Vacation!
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