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Saturday, February 18, 2012

Thanks Big Mike, If I Can Get The Financing, I'll Offer You a Beer! (Disney Trip Post #2)

It never ceases to amaze me when I am down there, the number of foreign speaking people.  I have never felt more like a visitor in my own country than this trip.  We had a great time in your beautiful country of Florida.  Thanks for having us.  Unfortunately, my foreigner stories does not end here.  As you may know, we got part of this trip from winning the contest from Big Mike of This Is It Furniture in Champaign and Danville.

He is a Hell of a guy that put us up in a Hell of a nice huge place at Disney so SHOP BIG MIKE!  It was almost as big as our old house.  This was our first stay at Disney resorts and with that constantly running free shuttle to the parks, you can't beat it.  I parked our SUV rental on Sunday and didn't touch it again until Thursday.  It even makes sitting through that damn Disney promotional video that seems to be on every t.v. channel 24 hours a day almost bearable.  

Here is our living room at Disney's Old Key West Resort.

And full kitchen.

And our private King bedroom.

Well, we added a few more days onto the trip than what we won so on the Case dollar, we moved to a MUCH cheaper resort.  It was still a Disney property and very passable called Disney's Port Orleans Resort.  Here is our room there.

Other than Mikah being a little crabby one day because Lukah wound up completely sideways on the bed with her, it was fine.  And after a little adventure you will read about in a minute, I walked in to a sight that made me love my hillbilly bride even more.

If your wife has ever used a hotel sink as a beer cooler, YOU MIGHT BE A REDNECK.  I am very sad to report that we had to leave a few of the little guys behind when we left.  On a side note and a true occurrence from a dining establishment at Epcot, "If you ever walk up to your table and hear 'Get off his head' from the table next to you, YOU MIGHT BE EATING NEXT TO A REDNECK.  Now back to the story.  This complex was massive and as soon as we dropped the bags in the room, I grabbed Cal to go explore.  We got no more than 2 steps outside of our room and we heard a small child wailing.  At a run, we approached a cute little boy about 5 years old hysterically crying.  I inquired, "Are you lost?" and was met with "sdfseffs thtgnfrh nmythjhtmm asdfd sdfgsgff."  Well, that is what it sounded like to me anyways.  Great, I had a lost kid with no way to communicate to him to calm him down.  I couldn't even figure out what language he was speaking despite several valiant efforts on my part I must say.  I knew that if I could get him to the lobby, surely someone there could figure out his language, ask him his name, and then look up his parent's room number.  Sounds simple enough except remember me saying that we had just gotten to this huge resort.  I could not find that lobby to save my life.  We walked and walked.  Meanwhile this kid is babbling in tongues and stopping every 10 feet to scream "Awww. Mi papa" which by the way became the catch phrase for the rest of the trip.  With this screaming kid in tow, I was just waiting to be tackled as a kidnapper.  I finally came across a resort cart person and stopped him.  He was not American either, but thank God spoke it.  He figured out the kid was speaking Spanish.  Oops.  Sorry Mr. Glasson (High School Spanish teacher), my one semester of Spanish did not enable me to pick out one familiar word to figure that out.  Now, we had directions to the lobby and the knowledge that he was speaking Spanish.  Well, that changes everything.  I had a semester of Spanish 25 years ago so surely I can just get him to tell me his room number.  I started asking "nombre?" to which he kept saying something that sounded like "sharlukah".  If any of you are fluent, please tell me what the Hell this means as it has been driving Cal and I crazy to know.  I tried a few other phrases but for all I know I told him that I wanted to make out with his goat.  So much for my attempts.  Then, I caught myself even doing the old television cliche of speaking English but really slowly in a Spanish accent like somehow that would help him understand me.  "Looobbbby, Zey vill hailp."  We got a few hundred feet from the lobby and a man came running out with arms open wide and in a truly magical Disney moment, I pointed to him and said "Papa?".  The cute little fella ran to him and all I got was a quick wave from "papa".  Excuse me jackass, you could at least come shake my hand and buy me  a $32-6 pack.  Think I'm lying.
That's actually what it cost at that resort.  1 Budweiser bottle was $6.  Son of a bitch, was the Tower of Terror right?  Did I get off of that service elevator into another dimension where beer is brewed with solid gold extract?  F**K for $32, someone better put on one of those giant Mickey Mouse gloves and come rub my hemorrhoid while I drink it.

Now that I think about it, I didn't ask for any credentials.  I could have just handed that little cutey over to a serial killer.  Nah, I'm sure I would have read about that by now. 

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