It was a year ago today that my grandmother, Patsy Crowell, passed away, as Facebook so blithely reminded me. To celebrate her memory, my mom made it possible for our extended family to spend nearly a week in a resort at Disney World this year. Even though the Christmas music definitely followed us there, being in a totally different place - and climate - made for a wonderful opportunity to appreciate having the chance to make new memories together (cheesy as it most certainly is). It is still possible to get sad and frustrated at the Happiest Place on Earth during the Most Wonderful Time of the Year, mainly about not being able to spend enough time with each other between the Fast Passes and road works-stymied buses, but it was genuinely lovely to see my nieces and nephews and my grandparents being equally delighted by interacting with both costumed and acting characters.
Before heading to Orlando, Elger and I flew into Tampa for a couple of days to visit with my father's side of the family. His parents have lived in the same house in Largo since the 1970s, and the green shag carpet is just as soft as they day they moved in, and just as soft as it was when my brother and I would make regular summer visits during our childhood in the '90s. It was the second time that Elger and I had gotten to spend time with the White side of my family in the past couple of years, but prior to that, it had been at least a decade since I had seen most of my aunts, uncles and cousins living in Florida. I got to witness my aunts doing impressive genealogical research about their parent's family trees, and Elger was taught a thing or two about planes (which is quite the feat) by my grandfather, a Navy and Coast Guard veteran, and we enjoyed having such a familiar, soft spot to land during our first couple of days in Florida.
Before heading to Orlando, Elger and I flew into Tampa for a couple of days to visit with my father's side of the family. His parents have lived in the same house in Largo since the 1970s, and the green shag carpet is just as soft as they day they moved in, and just as soft as it was when my brother and I would make regular summer visits during our childhood in the '90s. It was the second time that Elger and I had gotten to spend time with the White side of my family in the past couple of years, but prior to that, it had been at least a decade since I had seen most of my aunts, uncles and cousins living in Florida. I got to witness my aunts doing impressive genealogical research about their parent's family trees, and Elger was taught a thing or two about planes (which is quite the feat) by my grandfather, a Navy and Coast Guard veteran, and we enjoyed having such a familiar, soft spot to land during our first couple of days in Florida.
After going on something of a wild goose chase to pick up our rental car, we drove an hour and a half to the Pop Century Resort. It's technically a complex of five separate hotel buildings and a lobby/dining hall, filled with a mix of decade-specific pop cultural references, paraphernalia and photos depicting the more peaceful, stock photo-worthy moments of the second half of the 20th century. We were staying in the red and pink '80s building with purple railings depicting a game of Pac Man. Since jet lag saw to it that we were getting up far earlier than normal (but still not earlier than the most hard core guests who were in line for the buses to the parks hours before they opened), we got to enjoy the surreal, softening effects of cool, foggy mornings in the otherwise technicolor setting.
We ran into my other set of grandparents and my uncle at the front desk, and after literally running over to my brother and jumping on his back, as Elger and I were riding the elevators up to the third floor, where my family was filling six rooms, we drew closer to a familiar, friendly cacophony of voices. When the doors opened, there was my mom, wearing a strobing necklace of Christmas lights and matching illuminated plastic Mickey ears, grinning ear to ear (her real ones). We traded places in the elevator as she and seven other members of our crew headed out, and after a brief visit to Hollywood Studios, Elger and I paddled around in the computer screen-shaped pool next to a four story tall statue of Roger Rabbit and then called it a night (while the rest of our party stayed in the parks until well after midnight).
We ran into my other set of grandparents and my uncle at the front desk, and after literally running over to my brother and jumping on his back, as Elger and I were riding the elevators up to the third floor, where my family was filling six rooms, we drew closer to a familiar, friendly cacophony of voices. When the doors opened, there was my mom, wearing a strobing necklace of Christmas lights and matching illuminated plastic Mickey ears, grinning ear to ear (her real ones). We traded places in the elevator as she and seven other members of our crew headed out, and after a brief visit to Hollywood Studios, Elger and I paddled around in the computer screen-shaped pool next to a four story tall statue of Roger Rabbit and then called it a night (while the rest of our party stayed in the parks until well after midnight).
My very favorite series of books by far when I was a kid was "The Baby-Sitters Club". In one of the Super Special editions, the girls and their families take a Disney cruise. When I read about it as a child, my mind was blown by the idea of getting to have breakfast alongside the likes of Mickey Mouse. My nieces and nephews got to live the dream - as did my grandparents. Prince Charming charmed Gran and Grandonald, and Mickey scared the living daylights out of Gran. My carry on luggage was filled with little Christmas gifts for everyone, and I was happy to get to give my niece Kayley the BSC Disney Super Special - I was even happier when she excitedly said she already knew the books and dove right into reading as we walked to the monorail.
Even though Travis and I had been to Disney at least a couple of times as kids, I could only remember spending time in the Magic Kingdom. I'm not a big thrill seeker when it comes to roller coasters, but did manage to brave Space Mountain once more as an adult. I was kind of thrown off by how much bigger and different everything seemed: I had expected Main Street to be the same candy colors and child-sized facades that I remembered, but instead I found Starbucks, jewellery shops and the Spaceballs-esque quest for more money with bizarre Star Wars-themed swag (an At-At poodle skirt, anyone?). I thought Star Tours and Muppets 3D would rely on the exact same narratives and footage as they did in the '90s, but they were surprisingly relevant.
The things I thought I would recognize were unfamiliar, but the newest park - Animal Kingdom - was oddly very familiar. It's effectively a zoo/mini safari (complete with artificial baobabs and air conditioned rocks for the lions) with rides and three zones: Africa, Asia and Pandora. All of them are equally fake, but the attention to detail in the buildings near the Mt. Everest ride surprised me: exposed rebar on concrete roofs, threadbare prayer flags draped from unassuming (fake) shrines, and intricately carved dark wood detailing was reminiscent of Kathmandu and Bandipur. Plus mouse-shaped ice cream and fewer street vendors (only slightly).
The things I thought I would recognize were unfamiliar, but the newest park - Animal Kingdom - was oddly very familiar. It's effectively a zoo/mini safari (complete with artificial baobabs and air conditioned rocks for the lions) with rides and three zones: Africa, Asia and Pandora. All of them are equally fake, but the attention to detail in the buildings near the Mt. Everest ride surprised me: exposed rebar on concrete roofs, threadbare prayer flags draped from unassuming (fake) shrines, and intricately carved dark wood detailing was reminiscent of Kathmandu and Bandipur. Plus mouse-shaped ice cream and fewer street vendors (only slightly).
On our last night at Disney, most of us headed to Epcot to attempt to drink around the world. Despite getting there with about an hour to go and getting separated multiple times, we managed to swing through fake Canada, fake England, fake France and fake Morocco (number of successfully consumed drinks varying among the participants) before the slightly more grown up version of "It's A Small World" (which I sadly did not manage to ride) played out on the lake.
On our second to last day at Disney, Elger realized that one of his former colleagues from the Language Center, Nicole, was also coincidentally in the Orlando area. Her parents are residents of a 43,000 acre gated community in Kissimmee, which is a self-contained town, complete with a golf course, several cafes, pickle ball courts (smaller scale tennis) and herds of personalized golf carts. After excellent ruebens at the club house, Nicole and her boyfriend gave us a tour of the grounds, which was basically an alligator scouting mission, and then we headed east to Cape Canaveral.
Although NASA is not sending manned missions into space currently, it was so good to see how much action is still going on at the 144,000 acres of Kennedy Space Center (including a whole lot of water, and a couple of alligators). Even in December, there were long lines for the (equally informative and trivia-filled) bus tours through the launch pads and other facilities. The tour guide emphasized that the various private companies now retrofitting NASA's launch pads and building new structures to accommodate heavier rockets are all collaborating rather than competing with one another. It's no space race, and it's comforting that there are still so many people focused on bringing mankind deeper into space, but seeing the retired Atlantis shuttle in a museum setting still brought tears to my eyes.
Although NASA is not sending manned missions into space currently, it was so good to see how much action is still going on at the 144,000 acres of Kennedy Space Center (including a whole lot of water, and a couple of alligators). Even in December, there were long lines for the (equally informative and trivia-filled) bus tours through the launch pads and other facilities. The tour guide emphasized that the various private companies now retrofitting NASA's launch pads and building new structures to accommodate heavier rockets are all collaborating rather than competing with one another. It's no space race, and it's comforting that there are still so many people focused on bringing mankind deeper into space, but seeing the retired Atlantis shuttle in a museum setting still brought tears to my eyes.
The day after Kennedy Space Center, we checked out some slightly older modes of aerial transportation at Fantasy of Flight. Only ten percent of Kermit Weeks' more than 200 planes are on display in the garage beside an airstrip where biplanes buzz into the sky (230 dollars buys you half an hour), but it was still cool to see some of the collection (financed by Weeks' uncle's oil assets). Children's books about planes written by Weeks are for sale in the gift shop, but guests willing to shell out 500 dollars can get a private tour of the larger hangar/museum housing more of the planes on the other side of the runway. There are plans to eventually add roller coasters to the sprawling grounds, but it would be a shame for Flight of Fantasy to become just another Orlando area theme park with rides rather than a living museum.
After driving about an hour southeast, including shuddering along an unpaved road through an orange grove, we pulled up our last stop before heading back to the airport for our flight home on Christmas Eve: Cherry Pocket. A seafood shack, covered in dollar bills, license plates and neon Budweiser signs, located on a pocket of water on Lake Pierce, lined with crumbling piers and billowing Spanish moss. The staff was much less on edge than the brave servers at Disney World, which probably says more about the likelihood that visitors to the Happiest Place on Earth behave in the parks with a greater degree of entitlement than the clientele that make their way to the "world famous" dive.
So yes, Florida is alligators and theme parks and oranges and sunshine. It was a good time.
After driving about an hour southeast, including shuddering along an unpaved road through an orange grove, we pulled up our last stop before heading back to the airport for our flight home on Christmas Eve: Cherry Pocket. A seafood shack, covered in dollar bills, license plates and neon Budweiser signs, located on a pocket of water on Lake Pierce, lined with crumbling piers and billowing Spanish moss. The staff was much less on edge than the brave servers at Disney World, which probably says more about the likelihood that visitors to the Happiest Place on Earth behave in the parks with a greater degree of entitlement than the clientele that make their way to the "world famous" dive.
So yes, Florida is alligators and theme parks and oranges and sunshine. It was a good time.
