Today we were to feed Sandy her character meet-and-greet fix with a 12-noon breakfast (yes, really) reservation at Disney’s Polynesian resort. Character dining with Lilo and Stitch was on the menu at Ohana’s restaurant. We’ve done this a couple of times before and had high hopes of laughter from all of us as the characters cycle around to each table in turn.
Since there was no pressing need to mobilise early in the day, most of the household was still unconscious well into mid-morning. We let the kids sleep as long as they wanted, though I sometimes wonder whether they would get out of bed at all if left to their own devices.
It promised to be another scorcher today, with the mercury expected to push 30+°C (that’s about 86°F if you’re American). We had a Disney water theme park on the agenda for this afternoon. When given the choice, Joey chose Blizzard Beach, so that’s what we planned on doing after breakfast (lunch).
I don’t know what it is about manned security guard posts, but when we pulled into the Polynesian and spoke with the awaiting guard there, his instructions weren’t terribly intuitive to follow. We’ve encountered the same phenomenon at various places. It’s like they have the same thing to say repeatedly and race through their spiel so quickly that nobody has a chance to follow what they actually said. He muffled something or other, handed us a 3-hour dining pass for the car park to leave on the dashboard (enough of all those tourists booking a meal and then walking to the Magic Kingdom to avoid the $35 parking fee). I followed his gesture into the adjacent car park, and we wandered into one of the Polynesian buildings directly in front of us. That turned out to be one of several hotel blocks and not at all where we needed to be. It wasn’t that long until the noon hour, so we were already actively trying to avoid any time fully exposed to the oppressively hot sun bearing down on us. It would have been much better if we had parked closer to where we needed to be.
After wandering around the Polynesian grounds for a while, becoming progressively sweatier and irritated, we found our way to the main building. We needed to be on the first floor. That was easier said than done. For us Europeans, the first floor is the one immediately above the ground floor. Here in the States, the first floor IS the ground floor, so we needed to be on what’s called the second floor locally. This is one of the various ways the Americans are wrong. They are wrong in many other ways also, but I digress.
After checking in, we took a seat in the blissfully air-conditioned environment to await our seating call. That came at precisely noon, so we only had to wait for around 10 minutes. I had the foresight to ask the check-in desk to put out a call for us, since the SMS system they use was delayed when we dined at Tusker House at Animal Kingdom a few days ago. Our dining call text message arrived there just as we were getting up to leave.
Perhaps because he was all hot and bothered from the walk through the heat into the dining hall, Joey was in a grumpy mood today. His sullen expression and non-communicative behaviour were telltale signs he wasn’t a happy camper. It probably wasn’t helped by the chaotic, noisy dining hall environment, full of families with excited, loud children. I asked Joey whether he wanted any of the scrambled eggs, more of the ham, waffles, etc. He just stared expressionlessly at the table, with no hint of a smile. When I spoke, he clenched his fists. This is one of his tells. He’s never violent, but clenching his fists always indicates emotional dysregulation when his bucket has reached the top and/or is overflowing. Typically, there’s no quick return from this state. I knew at that point this wasn’t going to be a straightforward meal.
The food was OK, but nothing to write home about. Since we had booked breakfast, the waiter served some diced fruit, punch (jungle juice), and then a skillet of breakfast foods, which he placed in the middle of our table—a sort of mini table buffet. Some Mickey and Stitch-shaped waffles arrived not long thereafter. Joey ate a couple of sausages and some cooked ham, so he at least ate something. Otherwise, he said he didn’t like the food, it was too loud, and he wanted to leave. Nice. There’s nothing like a relaxing family meal together, and this was nothing like a relaxing family meal together.
At least we had the character meet-and-greets to look forward to. Lilo, Stitch, Pluto, Mickey, and Minnie were all making their way around the dining room. It was hard to predict when they would reach our table. They seemed to follow an unorthodox route, leaving us guessing when they would get to us to spread some much-needed cheer. Frustratingly, they came perilously close a couple of times before veering off in another direction—sometimes at the behest of their handler (there’s always one close by), requesting they divert to another table. On one near-miss occasion, the periodic parade around the room sprang into action, so they all buggered off to do that, leaving us hanging again.
We eventually got some photos of the characters at our table, though they might show forced smiles on our part. I’ll let you be the judge.
Deciding to cut our losses, Sandy suggested I take Joey back to the car. He was clearly overwhelmed at the moment and needed some quiet time. I took him with me and we strolled through a couple of shops inside the main resort building on the way to the car. I don’t know why I did that. Gawking at the prices certainly did nothing to relieve any stress or tension. As we were halfway to the car, the dining call SMS arrived, so that was great.
Jae was the first to reach the car after a 10-15 minute wait. She arrived bearing unhappy news. Mum would apparently be a bit later as she was registering a complaint. Oh, dear. How much better could our Polynesian experience possibly get?
Evidently, Pluto, whom Sandy had been waiting for especially, was just about to reach our table when the parade started up again. To make matters worse, the music wasn’t working, so it was a lacklustre affair anyway. This was the straw that broke Sandy’s camel’s back, so she went into complaint mode and gave the cast members within earshot of her both barrels. I wasn’t there, so I only have Sandy’s subsequent recounting of the incident to go by. Though profusely apologetic, the only thing they could do was…to be profusely apologetic. This wasn’t appeasing Sandy, who by now was also in a less-than-magical frame of mind, so they sent her downstairs to speak to the more senior managers. Sandy took them up on that suggestion, but received no more satisfaction than they could muster for her upstairs in the dining hall. “We’re very sorry,” and “This should never have happened,” etc., were all well and good, but it was cutting no ice with Sandy. It isn’t clear what they could have said or done to resolve the matter, not even to Sandy. I think it was just a matter of frustration that needed an outlet to be vented into. I’m sure Sandy would have been looking for some gesture of recompense for the lost opportunity, but it seemed they weren’t in a giving frame of mind.
Wanting to move on from our magical experience at the Polynesian, I plugged Blizzard Beach into the satnav. Alas, the destination was being reported as closed. Bugger! That’s all I need. Joey is already balancing precariously on a knife-edge as it is. I went back inside to get verification that Blizzard Beach was indeed closed. I had been under the impression that both of Disney’s water parks were operating at this time of year. They had been operating one at a time for a while, but returned to the original schedule earlier this year. Both parks were indeed open concurrently earlier this year. We just happened to arrive during Blizzard Beach’s annual maintenance closure. That left Typhoon Lagoon as our only option for this afternoon. Secretly, this is the water park I wanted to visit, so I was not unhappy about this. Fortunately, Joey didn’t throw a wobbly and demand to go home, so we made our way over towards where Miss Tilly was perched atop her volcano.
A rather full car park didn’t bode well when we arrived. As it happened, the park didn’t feel unusually crowded. It was busy, for sure, and we struggled to find a place to park ourselves that had any shade (this late in the day, all the best shaded spots are taken), but we didn’t feel crowded out. Eventually, we stumbled on a row of chairs lined up against some bushes. It was the best quality shade we could hope for, so we staked our claim.
Sandy wanted to avoid us having to drag bags of towels with us today, which was a sensitive suggestion. Previously, you could rent towels at the water parks for $2 each, which is what we had resigned ourselves to doing. A happy bonus was that towels were being handed out for free, so we grabbed a half-dozen.
As if to read into the need for Mum and Dad to have a bit of quiet time, both kids uncharacteristically decided to head off into the park to have some watery fun together. Bonus. Sandy and I looked at each other. The realisation set in that we didn’t have any kids to look after for the next hour or two. This happens so infrequently that we were temporarily stunned, turning our heads back and forth as if to find the child-related thing that needed our evident attention. There wasn’t any. What a bizarre sensation. We shrugged and decided to step into the lazy river. Well, what else is a parent with no demanding child otherwise supposed to do?
We drifted lazily around the watercourse without a care in the world. Well, we were probably wondering what cares and duties we actually had that weren’t being tended to, but eventually, I think thoughts of nothingness overtook us. I think we actually reached a state of relaxation—a curious and long-since-forgotten experience if ever there was one.
The thought that one or more of the kids might need something—snacks, merch, plasters, solvent to loosen stuck fingers, bailing out of jail, etc.—eventually overcame us, and we returned to where we had parked our things. No child was to be seen. I had a hankering for a Typhoon Lagoon funnel cake topped with a slab of ice cream. I remembered how delicious these were in the past, and I saw at least one person holding one, so I was now on a mission. Sandy remained put, working under the assumption that surely it wouldn’t be long before either of the kids came back looking for a parent.
Off I trundled through the sand to locate my funnel cake. As it was still very hot, I asked for directions from some staff members at various quick-service kiosks. I was sent off towards the far end of the park with some dubiously vague instructions. When I got there and asked for directions again, I was sent back to where I came from. Once I made it back, with my feet aching and dehydration setting in, yet another staff member sent me to yet another part of the park. I chose persistence. It was now personal, and I was going to locate that funnel cake kiosk even if it killed me.
When I finally found it, and the lovely young man asked me for my order, I opened with a little explanation: I had just gone through hell and back, being sent off on a wild goose chase to find this spot. He dutifully fed the batter into the machine, and I watched my funnel cake take shape, now drooling at the prospect. “As a reward for you being given the runaround, this one is free,” he said as he handed the now ice-cream-slab-topped funnel cake. If it weren’t for the kiosk around him, I would have dropped to the floor on the spot to kiss his feet. It was truly delicious. I don’t think it made up for the whole day’s worth of aggravation, but by god, it came close.
I found Sandy still sitting in our spot and still childless. I sat with her and polished off my treat. It’s a messy business trying to eat something concurrently hot and cold, sitting on a paper plate in one hand and with a plastic fork in another. I got most of it in, but a good portion ended up on my chest. Sandy suggested I go for a dip to clean myself off. It would at least save her the embarrassment of people associating the drooling slob with her. I decided to wander around the park looking for the kids.
My route took me into the main wave pool. The vast wave machine had just started dispatching the massive waves this park is famous for. Every minute or so, there’s an almighty whoosh sound, immediately followed by the mother of all waves originating from the deep end of the enormous wave pool. The pool fans out, reducing the wave’s intensity eventually, but not before several meters of wave engulf you, depending on where in the pool you happen to be. It certainly wakes you up.
I chose not to do any of the tubes or slides today, instead focusing on the more relaxing pursuit of the lazy river. Despite my best efforts, I never did run into the kids anywhere, so I gave up and entered the lazy river again.
I think I was finishing my second lap when I spotted Sandy and Jae trying to enter the lazy river. Joey was evidently at our chairs, so I said I’d get out and go and keep him company. I offered to grab him some snacks, so we went and found some not far from where we were planted. Eventually, he and I decided to go back into the lazy river again.
The shadows were by now starting to lengthen. It was still hot, but there were some cumulus clouds dotted around—not much, but enough to take the edge off the piercing sun. When Joey and I had our fill of doing nothing on the lazy river, we made our way back to our chairs, where I found a message from the girls saying they had gone to get changed and would be waiting in the car for us. Joey and I showered and got dressed, then went to meet them in the blissfully air-conditioned people-mover.
Sandy had earlier promised Joey a wander through Target’s toy section. Instead of the one close to us—which is on our route home—she suggested trying a different one. This meant heading along I-4 in the wrong direction for a few minutes, but who am I to argue? Jae had commented earlier about possibly taking an Uber home before the rest of us, but was persuaded to remain with us by Sandy, who believed it wouldn’t be necessary. This would later prove to be a fly in the ointment for Jae, who planned to visit a nail spa to get one of her nails repaired. The heavy traffic along I-4 turned out to be Jae’s downfall, which she was none too pleased about—and made sure everyone around her knew about it as well. While Jae and I were at Target in the car waiting for Joey and Sandy to reemerge, I programmed the satnav for a return to base. When that revealed an ETA to get home after the nail spa’s closing time, Jae exploded. “I told you before that I should have taken an Uber. Now I’m going to miss out!” It took me several deep breaths, but I managed to bite my tongue, thus avoiding a further exacerbation of the issue by calling Jae out for being a little self-centred. By the time Sandy and Joey returned, you could have cut the atmosphere in the car with a knife. I explained to Sandy that Jae was upset about missing her nail appointment. To Sandy’s credit, she expressed regret and apologised, saying she felt responsible. I felt a little sorry for Sandy. I thought Jae was being a bit overdramatic. When we passed another nail spar close to the Target where we were, Sandy started to ask Jae whether she would be happy for us to stop here, but Jae cut her off mid-sentence with a “No, I’m fine!”
In the cut-the-atmosphere-with-a-knife ride back home, our good friend Jennifer called. She and her husband, Dave, are going to be driving down tomorrow to spend a couple of days with us. Sandy and I are especially looking forward to catching up and spending some quality time with them.
Today was a day of contrasts. I continue to find my rhythm in my search for a relaxing holiday. Sometimes the balance works, and sometimes it’s harder to find. The funnel cake was delicious, but it took some time to uncover it. The relaxation can be found, even if it’s only in pockets, as was the case today. What I’ve learned today is that it’s a fine line between enjoying the holiday and enduring it. Whether we land on one side of the coin or the other can depend heavily on how we choose to look at the situation. Is the glass half full or half empty? I hope we make it to the end of the trip without breaking the glass.