I hate amusement parks and I hate water rides, both interesting admissions since I worked for Euro Disney, now Disneyland Paris and for the International Association of Amusement Parks & Attractions. As Mr. Mom, though, I have to smile and pretend that I enjoy both of these irritations.
My experiences during our late summer family vacation might resonate with those curmudgeons like me, who prefer the comfort of staycations as opposed to commercial venues. Trip preparation in our house starts with demonic cleaning of the house and me doing mounds of laundry. Can’t come home to a dirty house now, can we?
Our trip began mid-August when we flew from Washington National Airport, (no Reagan in my lexicon) to Los Angeles and my wife’s family. “Are we there yet,” began before the plane left the terminal, and continued non-stop for five hours.
Worse still, the demands came in stereo. Daughter came in on the left channel and son came in on the right channel. When one slept, the other doubled his or her monaural efforts.
We finally arrived, sanity sorely tested and headed for rental cars and family. Following an uneventful and short 2 day stay in LA, where I only had to do two loads of laundry, we headed south to San Diego for a five day family vacation.
I had rented my former boss’ house at the Outer Banks a few years ago and received less than sterling marks on that choice from my wife. My wife picked the locale and flat this time, with equally dismal results, though I dare not voice those thoughts.
My 52 pound son leapt on his bed that first night and the frame promptly broke. I had him sleep with his head at the foot of the bed and only a slight 15 degree angle to keep him from sliding off the mattress.
My daughter meant to sleep on an inflatable mattress, however once we found the mattress, we couldn’t find the pump. The rental owner came—finally after several calls around 11 p.m. and after fighting with two mattresses, actually blew up a mattress by puckering his lips and blowing!
We did have fun in Mission Beach. Walks on the beach, punctuated by avoiding cyclists, inline skaters and skateboarders were pleasant.
I never knew that shell collecting was a competitive sport, but the kids showed me that in war as in love, all is possible. The shell battle was cute compared to the devastation Sea World and Disneyland did to our bank account.
At both parks, you pay to park, pay more to park closer and still have to walk a country mile to get in. All right, I’ll admit that it’s easy griping, but worth it when you see the kids faces and even some adults faces.
We went to see Sea World and Shamu first and the kids loved it, but for some reason our life’s goal was “Journey to Atlantis,” a water coaster ride. We rode this thing not once, not twice, but three times that day. No baths needed.
From there we went back to LA for a couple of days where I only did two loads of laundry and then to “The Happiest Place on Earth,” (for accountants). Disneyland, the original, King Daddy, Walt’s Wallet Removal Emporium and Mickey Mouse habitat. Disney has cast members whose only job is to siphon money from your pocket. My kids were in heaven; my wife and I, in shock.
My princess who does not have me wrapped around her little finger had to have pictures with every character. We have pictures with fairies, the Mad Hatter, Alice, Goofy, Pluto, Mickey, Minnie, and to my daughter’s delight, every single princess ever imagined. We started taking pictures of statues, kids with statues and then pictures of people we bumped into walking down the street.
Don’t get me started on the pictures taken from rides and the Disney photographers, so thick they were like flies feasting on a carcass. They had surgeons on call to remove your organs in exchange for the pictures they took.
Disney, like everything else these days, is so complicated, so sophisticated that, rides were breaking down or being adjusted—just when you were about to ride them. Better still, they closed or were closed just as you arrived at the main entrance to the line. Timing was unerring.
Our trip quickly came to an end and my wife only had to do two loads of laundry at the hotel before we left. I had earned the seat next to the kids on the way home. I’m still trying to figure out what I did wrong to earn that punishment.
We made it home in record time where I only had to do two more loads of laundry. I’m pretty sure we had a great vacation; I know we were incredibly clean and it was nice to get home to a clean house. It only stayed clean for a moment, but for an instant, a brief moment in time, even the curmudgeon in me was happy.