Because, I’m sorry but what kind of lunatic WOULDN’T want to be confined in a car for sixteen straight hours with three kids and my MOTHER along for the ride?
You’d have to be certifiable not to want a piece of this fucking action.
My husband is kicking himself right about now for missing such an opportunity.
I wrote these words moments before taking off on the Disney extravaganza, and then neglected to follow through in any way, shape or form.
In reality, I destroyed the car trip down in under 13 hours with nary a complaint and barely a peep out of my mother OR my kids. There were no hijinks or shenanigans that called for punishment or crazy road stories that were worthy of the archives. Just pure unadulterated fast-moving thrills, spills and chills under blue skies and the watchful eye of the mouse.
Since my kool-aid has yet to wear off ,I’ll refrain from posting until I can examine my trip with a little distance and clarity to provide unbiased coverage of all things vacation related, but for the most part no complaints.
If I had to pick a favorite moment though, it would have to be when Il Duce called the Ewok at Star Wars weekends an asshole after he left his picture-taking and autograph post without seeing close to 100 kids that had stood on line in the blistering heat to meet him. I was bracing myself for the crying jags and disappointed sobs of everyone else when he turned to me with the most frightening calm dead pan and uttered “what a fucking asshole, he just LEFT and now all these babies are going to start crying and hurting my head.”
He cheered himself up later by whacking a clone trooper in the ass with his blaster though. That was one for the photo album.
So now I’m on 36 hours with no sleep after an all night drive home marathon and a couple of 3 am bathroom breaks in Deliverance territory that were a little sketchy but were are alive and well. Now I am in need of a long luxurious nap.