Overall Impressions. . .

Ok, ok.  I know it's been like a month or more since I've posted an entry here.  I apologize for the lapse.  I could sit here telling you how busy and crazy life has been during my absence, but that would be a waste of time spewing excuses that mean nothing to you, my readers.

If you have come back to read this last entry about our trip to Walt Disney World, I thank you for your patience and loyalty.  

For our last morning we went to the Magic Kingdom to have some PhotoPass pictures taken.  We posed in front of the park entrance for a photo with "Let the Magic Begin" in the background.  Inside we got a shot with Cinderella's castle as the backdrop.  Mom gave her camera to the photographer, and he snapped some pics with it, too. 

The only other thing we did was stop for breakfast.  We had dining plan credits to use before our adventure ended, so we headed into the Main Street Bakery.  It was a bit difficult to weave our way to the door because they had one of those construction tunnel things over the sidewalk, creating a cattle-chute for the guests.  Inside it was determined that this wasn't the right place.  (I don't know why.)  So, we headed out, but not before I saw a wonderful thing.

Near the registers was a rack with a bright red Mickey Mouse-shaped item.  It was a pancake mold.  The very one I had been looking for, but was sold out online and in the Disney Store at home.  Mom and I snagged it on our way out.

We went next door for breakfast, then headed out of the park for the last time.  

I'll spare you the boring details of the airport and the bus ride there.  Just suffice it to say that it was uneventful and timely.


Our time submersed in the magic and chaos that is Disney brought several realizations.  First, and I knew this going in, a family trip to Disney is not a vacation for those of us who are parents.  It is far too stressful to call it a vacation.  

I was surprised to find that most of the guests at Walt Disney World are not Americans.  There were people from all over the world, and in this small area of our own country we were the minority.  It was a bit frustrating at times, like when the woman with the Spanish accent and her entire 6-member family line jumped right in front of us for Snow White's Scary Ride.  I forgot to mention that one earlier, but here you go.  

The entire family climbed under the rope and into line.  Mom and I freaked while the men stood by.  Then woman claimed she had been waiting--outside the roped-off queue area--for 45 minutes while her family went to the restroom, and supposedly the cast member near by said it was okay.  Ummmmm. . . .   I don't think so.  And while we followed the line to the ride, the women mumbled in their heavily accented voices about how they had cut into the line and what the story was.  I wanted to punch the diva sunglasses right off the ignorant shrew's face.

There were many other incidents that involved visitors from other planets.  I mean countries.  Sometimes I wonder what the difference is.  But, don't get me wrong.  I  do not generally hate or judge those from different backgrounds.  I just hate ignorant people who care nothing for others and think only of themselves.  My experience with the foreigners in Disney World was just that.  All of the people who were helpful, courteous, and gracious were American.

Another observation was that, while most cast members were everything Disney advertises them to be, the ones that weren't certainly made up for their overly cheery and friendly counterparts.  I realize you can't be happy all the time, but being downright unpleasant in the service of the public isn't acceptable in my eyes.

Do not go to Main Street USA for parades.  And try to be far away when they start, with plans to stay far away for a while after they end.  The area isn't designed to handle that many people.

We had other, personal issues come up and get in the way of our fun.  I won't go into them, but they did have a significant impact on our first "vacation" as a family.  

As a group, we decided that we'll wait at least another 3-5 years before we attempt this again.  That way Bug will be tall enough to get on just about anything he wants, he'll remember more than "Piglet took my Nuk," and it should be a little less stressful.

Those of you who have stuck with me through this ordeal, I thank you for your loyalty.  And I hope you will continue to return now that the adventure is over.  As a writer, I love knowing that I have readers.  As my readers, you are my reward for writing.