This is for those of you who visit family in Florida.
As I mentioned in another blog entry, my father-in-law moved to Florida after marrying a woman he met when visiting his brother in Boca Raton. The trips south were split between seeing Pop-Pop and seeing Mickey.
Early on, the in-laws would join us for the Disney part of the trip. The first time we visited, we all stayed at a Disney Fairway Villa.
These had a great set up for larger parties, or so it seemed. The main floor had a kitchen, a half bathroom and a living room with a pull down queen bed. Downstairs was a bedroom with two double beds and a full bath; while upstairs was a loft bedroom with a queen bed and a second full bath.
My in-laws arrived before us and took care of check-in. The first thing we heard was the screech of my stepmother-in-law “I made them give us another unit.” Huh??? They all look identical, so much so I wonder if I’ll find the right one knowing that I’ll be drinking heavily by the end of the week.
The in-laws get the upstairs bedroom, the kids get the one downstairs and we take the pull down in the living room. My head blissfully hits the pillow and I’m hoping for Disney dreams. What the heck is that? The plates are rattling! Do they have earthquakes in Florida? No, its coming from that lovely wide open loft above. My father-in-law has high octane gas and he is letting them fly.
We’re grateful for two things: hot air rises and there are no open flames. The musical salute finally comes to an end only to be replaced by a level of snoring that takes years to master. My father-in-law was the undisputed Grand Poobah of snoring.
I briefly consider an act of justifiable homicide. An alternate yet brilliant plan was hatched. We carefully carried our slumbering son into the living room and left him to deal with Grandpa’s snore fest while we slept in the bedroom with our girls.
Finally, we fall asleep… “PFFFT, PFFFT, PFFFT, PFFFT, PFFFT.” “PFFFT, PFFFT, PFFFT, PFFFT’, PFFFT, PFFFT.” Do you know why these are named the Fairway Villas? It’s because they’re on the golf course. Do you know what they do at 5:00am? They turn on the sprinklers which are SPRAYING THE WINDOWS OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN.
I think back to my stepmother-in-law telling us she made them switch us to this particular unit and I start planning my revenge. Maybe I’ll “accidentally” drop a match on the broom she flies around on.
It’s time to get up. Bleary eyed we head to the kitchen. There’s my father-in-law wearing a spiffy pair of white loafers with black socks. This is part of the required wardrobe when you retire in Florida. You must also wear a hat at all times and drive 10 miles below the speed limit. Wouldn’t want to have the windows open and muss up stepmother-in-law’s helmet hairdo. You know the style. The woman can be standing in the middle of a tornado and not a hair on her head will budge.
Another requisite for becoming a Floridian is always having a grapefruit on hand. After coffee, citrus and a call about the sprinklers, we’re ready for the parks.
I’ll spare you the rest of the details of the travels with the in-laws. Suffice it to say, we booked our own room for future visits and joined DVC when it opened.
I take that back. Let me tell you about stepmother-in-law’s opinion of DVC. They were in WDW with us yet again when we signed up. Like Bawb, she was from Boston. Although she had lived in Florida for close to 30 years, the accent was still going strong.
After we went to contract, we were very excited and asked if we could bring the in-laws back to show them the model unit. Being the control freak that she was, my stepmother-in-law was not happy that we dared to make this decision without consulting them. (The fact that we were in our 30’s and she had been part of the family for all of three years didn’t occur to her.)
To show her displeasure, she focused on the “kah-pet.” “What about the kah-peting? What’s going to happen if something gets spilled on the kah-pet? Who’s going to take care of the kah-pet?” ARGH!! “Why don’t I stab you where you’re standing and see if the chalk outline and bloodstain gets cleaned?”
Eventually the mutual trips came to an end. I think the last one was when her family tagged along and her daughter wanted to scalp my father-in-law’s Mickey’s Very Merry Christmas Party ticket when he got sick after dinner and couldn’t go. I had visions of her standing outside the Magic Kingdom saying “psst, buddy. Need a ticket? Make me an offer.”
For those of you who are still enduring these family visits, you have my heartfelt sympathy. As for me, I’ll again suppress these memories for the sake of my sanity.
Category: Disney World