All in a mouse's night pt. 1

I really did have the best intentions of getting around to things yesterday but life, duty and the desire to really do nothing much intervened. Therefore everything got pushed back a day. One of the many trials of modern life: apologizing for working instead of goofing off. Fairly certain this is a condition exclusive to latter 20th/early 21th century western world as I can't really imagine, say, the folks laying the transcontinental railways given to such nuisance. "Gee, Mr. Stanford, I know you really want that golden spike driven tomorrow but, well, I got to tell my homestead this pointless story of how when I was milking the cow I laughed myself silly over the slipperiness of the teat. It was quite ribald."

Sounds funny to us moderners but that is the way conversations back in the day went. I've seen movies. Plus, I'm pretty sure every sentence included the word "teat". I think it was a law or something that has positively nothing to do with WDW, marathons or me...

My original plan for Friday morning's departure was to depart, erm, Friday morning. This I managed a little before 8 am with my Dad riding shotgun in his large, American, gas-guzzling SUV. One positive of the bottom falling out of the world economy is at least now we can go back to driving everywhere again with little regard for gas prices, mileage or pollution. All that nonsense about smart cars, hybrids and such can get pushed to the back of the closest again like so many last winter's sweaters.

Until we can afford to care again and vow no more for the umpteenth time.

So anyway, instead of being scrunched up in my little krautmobile for 7 hours, my Dad had so much room that he occasionally climbed over the seats just because he could.

A rather uneventful drive down actually. No wonder there's so many awful, unnecessary songs about life on the road; we've all our steel horses to ride and sometimes when I'm alone all I do is think too. Indeed. When not reflecting on the 'wisdom' of those grizzled road dogs, the time was passed guessing what song would come up next on my ipod whilst my Dad was in his own little world listen on headphones to David McCullough's 1776 book on cd. I'm sure Bon Jovi and Kid Rock can well relate and have found themselves doing much the same. Maybe they'll write a shitty song about that too.

True, these are the times you can't replace, but after all these years, we've pretty much had our fill of bonding and both need our "me" time. Nevertheless, during the trip a good 15 minutes or so we actually engaged in something approaching conversation. That's cumulative, of course. "Me: You want to stop. Dad: No, I'm good. Me: OK." Six or seven repetitions later and, shazaam, we were in Disney.

We headed first to the big, super-bang, go blue jean expo to pick up my race packet and number. Every race I've ever been to always tries to make the expo as some sort of can't miss big deal--we've got speakers and everything! Yay, a symposium on running. Guess the strippers went to the insurance convention down the street.

Technically, the expo is can't miss since that's where the packet/number pick-up always is. The reality is always much less can't miss: a giant room with a gazillion people trying to fight their way through endless hawkers of running paraphernalia and booths for upcoming races towards the check-in. An exclusive to Disney's expo is the wine tasting. An non-free exhibit, that has always struck me as rather odd on several different levels none of which I shall dwell on.

After getting all that tedium out of the way as well as snagging my now customary "I Did It" shirt, we headed towards the Grand Floridian Hotel. Though it's one of the big 3 Disney Hotels (Contemporary and Polynesian, the other two) and is considered the crown jewel for the resort, it's my least favorite of the three. It's very large and very plush. Even very lush, but I'd rather stay at the Polynesian as it feels more 'Disney'. We all have our crosses to bear.

Early Saturday was spent at the Magic Kingdom because, kidless or not, I couldn't bear the thought of being at WDW and doing nothing but staying in the room. I'm not Andy, you know. It's amazing to me, and probably everyone else, that after nearly 20 trips there over the years I enjoy all that hullabaloo as much now as then. The rides have lost none of their fun and though I can recite practically every spiel from every attraction, it's all still exciting.

For the most part, save the race cars. I admit the appeal of driving some glorified lawnmower at speeds up to 7 mph around a guided track has lost some of the appeal. Particularly when I'm being yelled at by some cast member half my age for bumping the car in front. Sorry, I have so little control over my rebel tendencies.

There's always the fun of guessing just how long a cast member has been on the job by the zeal he/she puts into everything. Admittedly, even I would have trouble putting on the faux British accent at The Haunted Mansion to tell folks to move away from the "blood red carpet" to the "dead center of the room." after 8 hours of screaming kids, sullen emo teenagers and their annoying parents. Weep not for them, though. They do get to wear snazzy costumes and can always pass the boredom off as method acting. Some of us only have blogging.

Plus, as cynical and cold-hearted as I am I really do get a kick out of seeing people forget about all the junk that clutters up living in the modern world and just enjoy being with their kids, or even being kids.

Perhaps it's just my biological clock ticking.

To be continued...