I can safely say I am not a Traveler. My niece Mailin is a Traveler; that kid thinks nothing of jumping on a plane, meeting two connecting planes, and arriving in places that have no indoor plumbing. She's awesome in her fearlessness and sense of adventure. Me? Not so much. Driving across a bridge is enough of an adventure for me.
So when my daughter, her husband and two kids suggested I meet them in Disney for 4 days this August, I did not feel the Magic. I couldn't even picture myself in the Philadelphia airport, finding the right plane, and boarding it without throwing up. (It wasn't Root Canal Dread, but it was close.)
But thanks to the magic of dramamine, I made it through the flight without too much drama, except for the guy standing in the boarding line, who, during a casual conversation about the ridiculousness of the security check-point, informed me he had the right to "bear arms". Since he was wearing a very inappropriate (for his Body Type) muscle shirt, I naturally thought he meant "bare arms", and laughed politely. Apparently he was not kidding, and he informed me in that haughty/scary way people who like guns like to talk, and I smiled, looked away, and prayed that my seat was far, far away from him and his stupid biceps.
DisneyDisneyDisneyDisney. Since my daughter Sam had expertly booked, scheduled, and orchestrated the entire trip, I just had to hold someone's little hand and follow along: it was pretty great. Oh, yeah, there were times I felt like I was walking the streets of Calcutta; that was because of the cheek-to-cheek crowds, not the ambiance. There were times I felt like I was walking in the Sahara Desert; again, not the ambiance, but the god-awful heat. And there were times when I was having a blast. The Disney people should really open a Training School for the world: those people really know how to do NICE, and they should run a facility where people who don't work at Disney could learn a thing or three. (I wouldn't last a day there; my sarcasm and snarky nature would get me expelled.)
Sure, there was lots of walking and my feet hurt so much I was kind of crying, and some of the rides made me much, much woozier than I would've liked without a vodka tonic, but when my 9 year old granddaughter looked up at me and said "I'm having a super time, aren't you, Oma?" I had to answer "Absolutely!" And when we went on my favorite ride, "It's a Small World After All" , and my 5 year old grandson looked at me and said "Why does your neck jiggle like that?" ...well, that made it all worthwhile.
It was a great adventure. And let's face it: inside plumbing is pretty magical, after all.
