On the flight down, the pilot told us that we would have a smooth flight, probably until Orlando where we would experience a few bumps. I hate when bumps and flying collide. He asked the flight attendants to sit down - a reason for me to start drinking, except for the fact that the drink people have been commanded to sit down. Then King Pilot tells the flight attendants to clean up the plane early, which translates to imminent flying danger to me. Of course, this also means they will be unable to provide me with a bottle of vodka. After all this commotion, the flight lands fairly uneventfully and not-so-bumpily, although my nerves were pretty shot. And un-inebriated.
So, I wander off the plane and head to Rental Car Land. I am searching for the Hertz counter because I Pricelined a sweet deal for a car. After staring at the car rental sign for eons, hoping that the Hertz name will appear, I find Hertz on another sign- the one that says I have to get on the rental car bus to get it. I am spoiled. I do not want to get on the rental car bus - I want my car right outside the airport door. I sneer, go outside with the other peons, and wait for the rental car bus. It takes me to the Hertz place, where the first stop is for the Gold Class people. The next stop is for all us low-class cheapskates. The kiosks are not working, which means standing in line. I finally get up to Felicia, who can't find my name. Luckily in my anal-retentive travel notebook, I have a copy of my Priceline confirmation. Felicia tells me that my name was backwards - as if Luanne is a common last name. We haggle over insurance and refilling the gas tank, I sign my life away, and Felicia hands me the keys and points me in the direction of the North 40 to retrieve my car.
On my marathon out to find my car, a passing stranger says, "Your suitcase in unzipped." I look, and it is but it isn't. Actually, the nylon zipper is doing what nylon menopausal zippers do - come unzipped in the middle of a zipped zipper. I managed to fix it a bit, find my car, and heave the suitcase in the trunk. I pull out the inspection report Felicia gave me so that I can inspect my car and note any damages. (Sidebar - why should I have to do this? Shouldn't the car be in good order? If it is that important, why didn't Felicia come with me?) I see a minor ding, not bothering to denote the various scratches or the grimy floor mats of my cheap car. I decide that people who get a car with Priceline probably get the yucky cars anyway. I get all my documents, hand them to Roderigo at the gate and head for Disney.I arrive at Bonnet Creek Resort, another good deal found by Steve. My building is next to one being built and overlooks two other new hotels being built. I can't get wireless Internet, but Steve finds out that there is wired - the hookup is on the breakfast bar next to the sink. The resort info says checkout is at 10am, after I run the dishwasher, carry the trash down the hall to the trash bin, and put all the dirty linens on the bathroom floor. It is a nice resort - and I guess a nice change of pace. I guess.
Anyhow, I unpack my stuff, go pick up my nephews David and Michael for some dinner and Downtown Disney-ing. It sprinkles here and there, so we don't go watch fireworks. I drop them back at Pop Century, spend a little time chatting with John and Anne about their food fest at Victoria and Albert's, then head to Wal Mart for some sundries before the second wave arrives tomorrow.
I get back to the room, only to find the milk has a small leak that leaks all the way from the car to the sink. The Itty Bitty (laptop) decided to freeze up in the middle of this blog. I want the pizza that is being delivered three doors down.
But the thing is, I'm at Disney. And even if I weren't, I could still have a Disney Day. How? By realizing that it's just a day, and tomorrow will be another one. It will be full of something, so I might as well enjoy it. Enjoying the day - that's what makes it a Disney Day.