With utmost delight I report that I type this very post from sunny Florida! What's true is that I've been drinking a fair amount tonight, but no matter; I decided a few hours ago (was there alcohol in my system then? Oh, certainly) that I might every few days post about my vacation to the Sunshine State. God knows there has been enough noteworthy things that have already happened, and we haven't even made it to the theme parks yet. With a visit to Disney's Magic Kingdom tomorrow and the Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Universal Studios on Monday, rest assured that Tuesday's entry will be an exciting one; for now, settle down with tales of my flight and the events of this day.
What I can start off with is some orientation: what has been labelled the "final family vacation," my parents finally relented and decided to bring my sister and to Orlando so that we could revisit Disney and - and this is mostly for me considering my sister has never read the books and is thereby not related to me from this point forward - visit the Harry Potter theme park for the first time. I say revisit Disney because I've been once before to this location, back in 1999, something I know only because I can vividly remember a gigantic 2000 over the Epcot globe (what's the proper name for it? Who cares, we aren't going back there), one of my few memories. (well, aside from a story I'd rather not share) We ended up renting a house ten minutes outside of the Disney grounds with my parents' friends and their daughter who are technically my surrogate family anyways; higher ceilings than I'm used to, we've got something like two spare bedrooms, and I'm enjoying myself in the first floor suite I've claimed which by circumstance has handicap accessibility in the washroom. Guess who gets to sit down during their shower? My broken foot is thankful.
Ah, my foot. The raincloud to my entire vacation. The constant, painful reminder of my dumbassery - yes, dumbassery - of this past week. The good news is that with every passing day I find a new energetic determination when it comes to standing up and walking; the swelling may have gone entirely but I'm finding it a little bit easier to limp around in my boot of an air-cast. As much as I find this successful mobility I'm just as easily finding new bruises all over my foot, and I can tell you entirely that finding purple bruises on the bottom of your foot is scary business. I fear that I'm putting unnecessary strain on my foot (and a consequential stunt to the healing process) when I force myself around, but I know if I don't, I'll miss out on going to the parks which I've weighted my entire summer thus far down with excitement. On the flip side, though, walking feels okay (up to a point) because of my cast, and again, thank you thank you to my friend who provided it to me; I have some heavy duty pain meds for tomorrow; and the Magic Kingdom is the freaking happiest place on earth, right? The moment I set foot in that place I should feel next to perfect.
Yesterday involved our lengthy but not-so-lengthy trek down to where I sit at this moment. We left around noon due to an uncertain border wait - we flew out of Buffalo, of course - and we ended up at the airport hours early anyways. What better way to pass the time than to stuff your face with chicken wings? I don't usually fly well, and I can't say the bloated chicken food baby in my not-womb wasn't exactly a positive factor. Regardless, hours later we took off, and hurray, I didn't puke on the airplane this time. No in-flight movie - no screens to begin with - and no leg room for my casted foot. Oh, and there were the most obnoxious kids I've ever seen directly in front of me.
I suppose it's helpful to first note that the male flight attendant, while extremely flamboyant, was kinda hilarious while over the PA system. What's significant to note about this is that the three teenagers directly in front of me, my sister, and our friend is - and these are three teenagers of a group of about twenty as we soon discovered - that they are fucking annoying and would laugh the fakest goddamn laugh I've ever heard after every sentence the flamboyant flight attendant would utter, even if it wasn't funny. I swear to god, if I ever hear this laughter again, I will hang myself on the spot. And should my noose not prove successful, I'll hope that whomever the good god is in the sky will personally smite me so that I will never have to hear that grating, grating noise ever again. What's worse about these children was that they thought it was funny to thrash - and I mean thrash! - around in their seats and pretend they were having seizures when taking off and then again when landing. One then compared this thrashing to The Exorcist and lord knows I hate The Exorcist but congratulations to these stupid children, they comprehend the concept of comparison as well as successfully being able to identify a movie not made in the last two years. Regardless, these kids were dummies, and by the cruelest fate we were stuck traveling from the gate and to baggage claim behind not just them but their entire insolent troupe of prepubescent shit-disturbing fuckers. Excuse the french.
The heat hit me down like the hand of god and I wanted salvation from my cast when we finally touched down. We played musical rental cars for a while before we finally set off toward our rented house, but one wrong turn led to an endless night of parents turning into psychopaths and yelling and constant U-turns and carsickness on my part all because the bitty of a GPS unit led us astray. I wished for nothing more but sleep, but the excitement of exploring the house (hobble aside) was enough to keep us up well past 2am. Oh, and I drank a lot too, because I could. The handicap room became mine while my sister claimed the decked-out Disney princess room like the airhead Disney princess that she truly is.
Today brought about a late start, but when we finally decided to get moving, we drove straight to hell on earth: collectively we decided the late afternoon would be designated for shopping at an outlet mall, something my broken foot just begged for. I am not exaggerating when I say that I have never in my life seen a place as busy as this outlet mall. We drove around the extremely hectic parking lot for what seemed like an eternity, passing car after car parked on grass and halfway up a curb and practically on top of garbage bins and electrical lines. Luck came to us after a harrowing search, and by then I thought screw this, I don't even feel like shopping. The pain was most felt today walking around the outlets, and I only fear for the sort of strain I'm going to put on myself tomorrow around the Magic Kingdom, but T3s don't fail me now. I came away from my crippled shopping experience with the greatest jacket I've ever laid eyes on, but damn, I can't wear it until the fall and I definitely can't wear it down here - I'd melt in a flash.
I never noticed how crippling (poor choice of words for my own situation, but I'll own it) not having a working cellphone is. My dad and my sister reap the benefits of having unlimited data so la de da, they get to BBM the shit out of their contacts, while I'm stuck with a caveman-like sensibility where I can only use my surprisingly resilient Blackberry for checking the time or playing Word Mole when the world around me bores me. I'm thankful for the unlimited internet - the people who own this house won't mind me downloading torrent after torrent, will they? - and I'm at least able to contact my good friends over the net, but it's seriously humbling and quite frankly oddly disturbing how much I actually depend on my phone. The honest truth is I shouldn't even worry about my connectivity: I'm on vacation and my internet connection should be the least of my concerns, dammit!
Up next: tales about Disney and Harry Potter that will surely be published beyond the grave because I am a child and these amusement parks will be the absolute freaking end of me.