Don’t Mess with the Mouse

It’s easy to get down on yourself when you’re traveling away from home for business on a Friday. I arrived dutifully early and duly checked in well before my Southwest boarding time in order to position myself near the front of the A line. Then I remembered that this flight was to Orlando and there would likely be more very young and very old preboards than A group boarders anyway.

True to form, the lines were full of people jockeying for position, stashing their bags to hold their places in line and giving in-flight instructions to first time flyers to “be sure and chew sum guuum so yer head don’t explode.” I just smiled and read the McPaper. (USA Today)

But lo and behold, after all the preboards and the A listers in front of me had found their seats, I claimed the exit row aisle on the left side that lets me stretch out my crippled right ankle. Or as we experienced travelers call it-Southwest First Class!

Four drink tickets and a Crown and ginger ale later, I had decided to make a conscious effort to not be the Saddest Person in the Happiest Place on Earth. I attended this same convention in the same Disney Boardwalk Resort two years ago, and it’s easy to get depressed spending eight hours a day in meeting rooms and nights alone in a hotel room with a huge-ass crib bolted to the center of the floor while all around you families are enjoying their dream vacations.

So as I sit here on this Disney Magical Express Shuttle Bus, having been directed here by a tiny Phillipino woman wearing an enormous stuffed Mickey Mouse glove on one hand, I pledge to let the joy of all these children rub off on me. (Get your mind out of the gutter, perv!) I am going to make the best of this situation and try to return home Monday night in a good mood to meet our new dog who RUABelle is picking up tomorrow without me.

Wish me luck!


One Response to Don’t Mess with the Mouse

  1. Kat Coble says:

    I love all things Disney World. It’s a sickness. Really.

    But I can’t imagine going there on business. That seems like the ultimate buzz-kill. Like being in some sort of Sci-Fi prison where half the torment is being shown videos of other people having happy times. But Sci-Fi videos that are projected into thin air. As in Minority Report. (Somewhere this concept must be buried in a Phillip K. Dick novel.)

    Every time I’ve flown Southwest to MCO, I’ve gotten the exit row aisle (out of courtesy for my 6’2″ spouse.) None of the old folks or baby-addled families dare take it. They’re all disqualified. Score one point for going to Fla. without kids!

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