100,000 Miles and the Not so Magical Express

12-18-10

   We are just outside of Flagstaff, AZ.  We will stop for gas in Kingman.  Our van just passed 100,000 miles a few seconds ago.  Wow, 100,000 miles.  We stopped to take a picture of the odomoter.  I remember buying this van from a nice man at Webb Toyota.  His name was John.  He no longer works there.  We were about to take a long trip to Indiana, and it was down to keeping our Windstar and putting more money into that, or buying this Sienna.  The deal breaker was the tinted windows being thrown in for free.  I was walking out of the place, and he threw that in, so I took it.  And here we are 100,000 miles later.

   We are headed to Los Angeles, and from there we will sail on the Mariner of the Seas to Cabo San Lucas first, then Mazatlan (where I will play golf at Estrella del Mar), and our last stop is Puerto Vallarta.  It’s our first cruise, and I am sure that is a knock against us.  Rookie cruisers.  That reminds me of my virgin trip to the Magic Kingdom and a funny story, or at least a funny story especially in Denise (last name's) eyes.  Okay, it was funny to me, too.   

   Becca just asked if I was writing in my journal.  I told her I was and asked her if she wanted me to include her again, so she wouldn’t feel left out.  And there she is.  She is 14 now.  She’ll be 15 on June 8^th.  Our baby will be 15?  Whoa!  She's really our niece, but she is more like a daughter.  

   After dinner at my now favorite (sarcasm) restaurant at Disney World, The Flying Fish, we took a small walk along the boardwalk there, and on a bridge where we took a few pictures, enjoying the lights, the activity, the scenery, and the movement.  When we were done and ready to head back, we walked back past the restaurant to the Magic Express bus stop where we first arrived.  I had my $14.00 refillable Mickey Mouse mug in my hand, the one our waiter did not fill with a free alcoholic refill at the Fish.  

   Sarah, LaVelda, Frances, Denise and I all spotted a bus at the stop.  It was about to leave.  I was in the lead, so I took the initiative and walked faster to try to stop it.  It pulled out, but it could only go so far since a stop sign was less than five meters away.  The bus stopped.  I held up my mug, like a salute, but it was more of a half-hearted attempt to see if the bus would wait for us there.  I was saluting the large side view mirror.  It was dark, so I couldn’t see the driver.  I saw only the reflection of the streetlights and various lighted decorations.  The bus did not move, so I thought we were good.  I thought I had secured our ride, which was really good because my tummy was knotted. 

   I thought it would stay; I really did.  In my mind, I pictured the driver seeing me and nodding his or her head and then waiting.  I took more than a few more steps toward the bus, and then it just pulled away. 

   Denise said it sped away, that it peeled out, but I don’t remember it that way (because of my mug, a sure sign of a rookie Disney tourist).  My shoulders fell.  My refillable mug lowered from above my head to below my waist.  My chin tilted down to my chest.  The Magic Express left us.  It left me... with my Mickey mug.  Why?  Why did it leave us? 

   For the next twenty minutes or so, the approximate amount of time it takes for another "magical" bus to arrive, I endured Denise laughing at (and with) me.  We all endured Denise laughing at (and with) me.  It continued on the bus back to our resort and at every stop.  Yes, it was funny.  It was funny to the others and to me, but Denise enjoyed it more than anyone. 

   She said I looked like a small boy, a dejected, rejected small boy.  That, and my 6’3” frame with my magical mug firmly in hand slowly dropping cracked her up big time, and not just once, but over and over and over again.

   One more quick story, speaking of over and over and over again. I remember all of my trips to the bathroom at my hotel room, and on the final night, the night I was worried about an entire day of travel the next day, I called the front desk to find out if I could find and buy some more Pepto Bismol somewhere close by.  The lady was nice and informative, but my voice and my request (I thought) showed that I was suffering and worried.  I know it was probably a reflex after saying it so many times, but when we said goodbye, she said, “Have a magical evening!”  Oh, it was magical all right, but not in the harmless “Mickey Mouse moving broomsticks around” way, more like the “evil queen wreaking havoc” sort of way.

  

Enough of that, on to golf…