Day 2; Part 1: By Kingdom Come . . .

Day 2; Part 1: By Kingdom come . . .

Monday morning, Labor Day, we had 8:15 AM reservations at The Crystal Palace. It is a very fancy buffet style restaurant, that looks very much like the name suggests. It reminds me of one of those old fashioned bird cages you see, only made of glass. And it is popular because it is a Character Dining experience. Sean's first would be with the crew of the Hundred Acre Woods.

I got up around 6:45 (thinking "aren't I supposed to be on vacation???") and showered and got ready, letting Wendy and Sean sleep a little longer.

We got to the bus stop and there was no Magic Kingdom bus yet so I, being the coffeeholic that I am, decided to make a dash to fill my mug (again let me point out that buying the refillable mugs at the resort is a wise investment.) Let me forewarn any potential Pop-ers that the food court is a hot mess around breakfast time. It gets really really crowded and expect a wait to check out. And using the main beverage lanes can be a nightmare.

Thank God I discovered that when you go into Everything Pop (gift shop) from the outside door and hang a left, there's a coffee filling station set away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the food court. In fact most mornings there was nobody using it when I'd fill up. What a Godsend. It doesn't have the cream dispenser the others have, which I like, so you have to use little individual creamers (oh, the sacrifice!) Actually that's normally fine with me, except a little more time consuming when you know the bus will be there any second. As I was snapping the lid on my mug, I felt my cell buzzing in my pocket which I knew meant "the bus is here!"

I didn't even bother to look at it, but instead just sprinted out the door and right onto the MK bus. Perfect timing. With a cup of joe for the ride. And I have to say I love the coffee in the resorts at WDW. Ironically, it's just instant coffee essentially. Nescafe, I believe. And I'm normally a coffee snob. I would never drink instant at home, but when I'm there it tastes like Juan Valdez climbed down from the mountain with his burro, dried, roasted, crushed, and brewed a batch of beans just for me. I am well aware its more than likely just the state of mind I'm in. But I long for that instant coffee often during the years between trips. Call me crazy (you wouldn't be the first.)

We got to MK a few minutes after 8:00 and got through bag check really quickly. There is a special stillness and magic, for lack of a better word, about being on Main Street before the park opens. It's quiet, and yet there's a hum of energy you can feel building. It's mystical stuff. Its those moments where I really feel Walt's presence. Doesn't hurt to have a clear view of the Partners statue and the castle behind, without a hundred people in the way. It is a statue of Walt and Mickey holding hands that stands in a courtyard just before the castle. In my mind its as recognizable an icon of the Magic Kingdom as Cinderella's castle itself, but I suppose if you've never been, you might've never seen it. It's pretty important to me. I find myself somewhat emotional every time I stop and stare at it a moment when we first arrive. Walt is, as you can probably guess, pretty important to me.

Wendy went in to the Crystal Palace to check us in and I had to run after Sean who decided the ropes strewn across everything meant nothing and he was going to head over to Liberty Square early. On our home videos, there's a moment where my panning across the park stops as you see Sean taking off under a rope. Suddenly the tape stops and next thing, we're inside the restaurant. That's where I had to shut the camera off and chase my kid!

Breakfast at the Crystal Palace was delicious. And I found it to be a great selection without being completely overwhelming. The only thing I had that I didn't love was their sausage gravy. But I'm partial, my grandmother, while being a born New Englander, became a relocated southerner as a young woman married to my Papaw, and she still makes the finest biscuits and gravy in the world.
I'll drop another tip here: don't overlook the kids buffet just because you're an adult. They had these little pastry puff things called Pooh's puffed french toast, or something to that effect. They tasted like a soft, light donut, covered with sugar and cinnamon and pure deliciousness. Kind of a play on a beneigh. And they make a breakfast pizza for the kids that I was also addicted to, when it was fresh.

Now, as for the character interaction, well, not quite what we'd hoped for initially.

First came Tigger, a friend in our house. Or so I thought. But as my wife held Sean and Tigger tried to shake his hand and give him a hug, I noticed my Son seemed wary. But he dealt with it well enough. Soon after though, Eeyore appeared. This is where things went south. Sean did not like Eeyore. His lip began to quiver and he furrowed his brow. When Eeyore just reached out to pat his back, Sean gave him a light but purposeful shove.

By the time Piglet tried to come over and my wife asked "do you want to meet Piglet?" Sean gave a resounding "NOOOO!"

He never cried, but he was not pleased with meeting the Pooh characters. Abby, our friends' little one did ok with them all, but she stayed in her high chair across the table so there was a safe distance.

As we left I was holding Sean and he kept wanting to know Tigger's location with every turn. I guess the lesson is Tigger is fine as long as he's a few inches tall on the television, or a foot long bath toy. Six-feet tall is another story. For now.

My usual m.o. at the MK is to start in Adventureland and work my way around clockwise. No big strategy or secret. It's just natural to make that initial left. But apparently Abby had been up (and therefore so had her parents) since about 4:30 that morning. So they wanted to head straight to Fantasyland (which many families do, and is another reason I start on the other side) because they planned to leave early for a nap.

Then the girls decided they wanted to get those old-fashioned silhouette portraits done of the kids. So we stopped at the cart near Ye Olde Christmas Shoppe. Actually it provided a perfect opportunity because I wanted to get Sean a set of ears from WDW. He already had ears from Disneyland, which my wife wanted to just bring with us, but I felt he should have a set - one from each coast.
So I power-walked back down Main Street to a hat shop, appropriately named The Chapeau. They had a nice selection, and I :especially liked the Halloween ears. In the end I just went traditional: black cap, black ears with the Mickey logo on the front and his name embroidered on the back. I'm amazed at how quickly they run that operation. I was gone and back before they had paid for the silhouettes. Wendy was so proud of the deal, as it was buy one, get one, and the frames were only $8.00 (remember this for later.) She had gotten two, with frames (including glass obviously) so we could give one to my mother.

Since we were so close to Frontierland, we decided to just check the waits on Splash and Big Thunder Mountain. Both were basically no wait at all. Here would be a test. Sean has ridden a small roller coaster here at a local tiny amusement park called Kiddieland multiple times and loved it.

(Sidebar: legend has it Walt came to Chicago and visited Kiddieland when he was planning DL in the 50's and asked the owner for advice. The story goes the owner told him to go scratch saying he had his own park, why would he help? Interesting to note, Kiddieland closed in the fall of '09 due to years of dwindling revenues and family in-fighting. Nice choice.)

Sean had seen footage of Big Thunder Mountain on television, and freaked out because he loves, LOVES, trains. He kept asking if we'd see the "fast choo-choo." We decided to see what he would do if we took him on this runaway train. This decision would make or break the rest of our day.

Sean is exactly 40 inches tall now so we were ushered in and found a great spot mid-train. I video-taped the entire ride. Sean loved it! Laughed the whole way!

Afterwards, we said what the heck and went right over to Splash Mountain, which Sean had no clue about. If any of you don't either, it's a log flume on Disney steroids. From the outside its a giant mountain with a water fall that boats come careening down. Inside its a relatively calm dark ride telling the story of Brer Rabbit from Song of the South (something else some of you me may be clueless about - but we won't get into that.)

We waited in a very short line and he just kept asking "we go on a boat ride?"

As we left the cue area and took the first turn outside in our log, we got splashed almost immediately by another taking the plunge. Sean wasn't thrilled by that. But as we took each little drop, I would prep him for it so he enjoyed them and would clap and hoot with me. Still, there was that "slight drop" at the end to contend with. I put an arm around him snugly and said "get ready buddy."
His eyes were wide as down we dropped, but as soon as we leveled out, he was clapping and laughing and asking to go again. I was so happy! My kid loves thrill rides and not even 3 yet. In fact we created a monster because he just kept asking to ride both over and over again.

We made our way to Fantasyland and pretty much stepped right on to It's a Small World. I'm not a fan of this one, but both girls are, and I figured Sean would be fascinated. I was disappointed though because I thought with the recent refurb they had slipped in a couple classic characters like they did at Disneyland. Apparently I thought wrong. Same old boring ride as always.

Then we walked right across to Peter Pan and that was also a very quick line. We broke down momentarily, looking straight down at Nana and her doghouse. Which of course Sean got a kick out of.

After brief break on a bench near the carousel for water and popsicles, it was decided Joe and I should take the kids on Dumbo. The girls wanted to dart into a gift shop. I should mention it was around 11 - 11:30 now and it was getting HOT!

The Florida sun was beating down hard.

The wait time for Dumbo said 20 minutes and I think it ended up being even longer. At least it seemed like it, as both kids were not amused. We wrestled two sweaty, crabby little ones throughout the que. By the time we boarded our elephants we were a couple sweaty, crabby fathers. But once Dumbo was flying we were soaring high above Fantasyland creating a wonderful breeze. I found a new appreciation for that ride watching my son laugh and grin through the whole flight. I am so curious to see what they do to Dumbo in the coming Fantasyland overhaul. The plans are to make it bigger and more interactive.

When we got off, air conditioning was an immediate requirement and the 3D musical attraction Mickey's Philharmagic was going to begin in 5 minutes. Just what the doctor ordered. At first Sean wasn't keen on wearing the glasses, but once he figured out the trick, he left them on and loved the show. There is just an inherent joy when you watch your kid reaching out to grab one of Ariel's jewels floating in the water or a dancing pastry. And again, he loves Donald, who features prominently in this one, so it was a definite hit!

It was getting close to 12:30 so we decided to get the kids some grub. Pinocchio's smelled fantastic, but the menu looked kind of limited, at least the one posted outside the door. So we ended up at Cosmic Rays, along with apparently half the guests in the park. It was packed. There wasn't a single seat in the main area where you can watch Sonny Eclipse. Sonny is an alien lounge singer who perfroms throughout the day at Cosmic Rays (go to YouTube and type in Sonny Eclipse to see mutliple fan videos of Sonny performing.) he something of a talking hippopotamous in a tuxedo. It's pretty entertaining, but also easy to ignore if you're just trying to refuel with a burger for the rest of your day. The girls (and Joe) scouted for a table. I had to hang back because Sean found a roped off area full of hula hoops and was fascinated. Obviously he didn't know what they were but loved dropping them around himself like a human ring toss.

Lunch was ok. Counter service fare, but it hit the spot. I followed Joe's suit from the day before and got the chili cheese dog. Wife had the burger. Sean a hot dog. I will say that the single serving Chocolate cake for desert is really good, and I don't like chocolate cake, so that's saying something.

After I ate I slipped off to the lil' buckaroos room and by time I was back, Joe and Ashley were already gone, heading back to Pop for a swim and naps. Sean seemed ok and was satiated so we decided to take a stroll to Toon Town. In the past Wendy and I just kind of breezed through it or skipped it all together, since we didn't have little ones.
We had a great time in there! Sean and I rode the somewhat tame roller coaster, Goofy's Barnstormer which he of course loved. It's an especially short ride given that there's often a wait, but I suppose it has to be since its geared for kids. It's a blast though. We browsed the gift shop for a while. Then decided to take a train ride. We rode the whole lap around the park, where I discovered for the first time that the train passes over/through Splash Mountain. I never noticed it from the boat, but the train looks down over the ferry boat celebration at the end of the ride.

Now to this point, I was disappointed that we hadn't seen Mickey Mouse anywhere. He is kind of the start of the place, after all, not too mention the whole company. Well we rode the train back to Toon Town and decided to pop in to Mickey's house since we'd never gone in before. We wound our way through and for the first time I noticed the tent that said meet Mickey. So we went in and got in line, watching the old cartoons, still not entirely sure what we were waiting for.

Until we were told it was our turn, and were ushered in to another room, then around a corner . . . and there they were. Mickey and Minnie, giving a brief and private audience to each family. Sean gave Mickey multiple high-fives and kissed Minnie right on the nose. He was in his glory. And I think he truly has a crush on Miss Mouse.
His reaction to Mickey and Minnie was the complete opposite of our breakfast encounters. And at the end of the day, this was kind of what it's all about for me. Mickey is an American icon. And more the point, symbolizes the American dream to me. As Walt said, we should never lose sight that the whole Disney empire was started with a mouse. That's what we're all about here. You can make greatness from the smallest of beginings. So, not too sound too off the wall, but Mickey is somewhat sacred to me.

Wendy wanted to catch the afternoon Celebrate a Dream Come True parade (that's a mouthful of title) so after Toon Town we crossed over, back past Cosmic Ray's toward the center hub. We stopped so Sean could chase some bubbles coming from a CM's bubble gun. As he was running around, the talking trash can rolled up to where we were and began to mess with the CM. A small crowd had gathered to watch.

This was one time where I actually got to see behind the Wizard's curtain, so-to speak. I was watching my son and just kind of looking around, as I always do in crowded places (a little paranoia is good for you!) That's when I noticed a guy about my age, wearing a brown t-shirt, shorts, plain ball cap and sunglasses, and he had a shoulder bag.

The thing that caught my eye was his half-closed hand cupped around his mouth as he looked off in the other direction. Call me Sherlock Holmes! It occurred to me that I could just faintly here him talking to himself, at the same time the garbage can was talking in its shrilled martian voice. He was the guy running it, the puppeteer I guess you'd say. He also seemed to have noticed that I'd noticed. He gave me a sly smile but then moved away.

We found a spot in front of the Bakery and camped out for the parade. It was fine. Sean really enjoyed it and my wife loves parades. Personally I can pretty much go the rest of my life outside of Disney without ever seeing another parade, and in Disney there are only a few I will watch. To me, a parade symbolizes the best time to go jump on a few rides while the lines are light. That said, it was nice. I'm kind of jaded after seeing the Pixar Play Parade at California Adventure when we visited Disneylan briefly the year before. That was the best parade I've ever seen and will compare all others to.

When it was over, we fought upstream towards the exit, but not before a ducking into the Confectionery shop! My wife loves the carrot cake cookies. Sadly they didn't have any. They told us to try the bakery, where we just were, so we made our way back, and they were out! Epic fail! But Wendy said it was a sign we didn't actually need any more junk food at the moment, which she was probably right about. So we decided it was time to make our way out.

She wanted to put Sean down for a bit and rest herself. I was just hot and sweaty and wanted to jump into a pool. So we loaded up onto the bus.

Right as we were loading onto the shuttle there was a small tragedy. I started taking things out of the stroller to collapse it and Wendy said "there's not many people waiting, just take it on as is." I reminded her of the sign that said it was against Florida D.O.T. regulations and I was just going to fold it up. She took the few bags we had and Sean and boarded. I tried folding it up but it just wouldn't lock. I didn't know what I was doing wrong, but being a guy, all things can be fixed with a little extra pressure, right? I put my weight into pushing down on this thing as hard as I could. I thought I heard somethign "click" but it still wouldn't catch. Frustrated I just grabbed it and held it together as best I could and got on the bus.

Once I was seated and the bus was en route, Wendy said "oh, did you grab those portraits out from the bottom of the stroller?"
Umm . . . .

Now I knew why the stroller wasn't closing. After a few moments I said sheepishly, "Honey, I have a really bad feeling that when you open the bag with those frames, it might be bad."

She unwrapped the first frame and it was just fine. Thank goodness, I thought with a sigh. Then she simply lifted the second and we could here the melodic tinkling of tiny shards of glass. Oops.

Actually, while the frame was toast, the silhouette was undamaged and she said she wanted to get a different frame for hers anyway. So I wasn't in trouble after all.

We got back and she gave Sean a shower and put him in bed. I headed over to the Computer Pool at the 80's and 90's courtyard. It was smaller but also a little quieter. I just kind of waded for a while like a Jungle Cruise hippo. It was peaceful and refreshing. Then I took a stroll around the campus, checking out the Bowling Pin pool at the 50's side too. And made a stop at Pedals Bar, getting a Lava Lamp to take back to the room. It's actually made with rum, Blue Buracao, Grenadine, and a little Sprite over ice. As i said, I'm not usually one for the froofy drinks, but this one is pretty damn good! And I got Wendy a Pina Co-lava. It's a Pina Colada but with a raspberry flavored rum as well as coconut. I did steal a sip and it was pretty tasty! Wouldn't be caught sucking one down at the local tavern, but poolside in Florida, I'll risk it!

I went back to the room and while my wife was sawing logs, Sean was wide awake and had been the whole time. I grabbed another quick shower and just chilled for a bit watching cartoons and a little Stacey! Stacey J. Aswad is the in-room tour guide throughout Walt Disney World. She's a highly-energetic, cute (shh), and some might say annoying (but not me) young lady whose Top 7 show runs on a constant loop on the parks channel in all resort rooms. It's a whirlwind of highlights and is just one of those things that, as soon as I see her, I know I'm back in Walt Disney World. Even though it doesn't change, I watch at least a few minutes of Stacey's show at the begining and end of each day. Also, did I mention she's pretty cute? You can find her on YouTube as well. She also has her own website, www.staceyjaswad.com, not that I'm some kind of creepy stalker or anything . . .

Ahem, anyway . . . we had a dinner ADR for 7:00 at Liberty Tree Tavern. It's an amazing family style dinner experience that I couldn't wait for. My mouth waters thinking about it. So i was glad I'd made reservations for us to eat there our first night at the Magic Kingdom.

At least, I thought I had . . .

Day One: Leaving Chicago

Prologue: Leaving Chicago, Sept. 6th, 7:00AM via Air Tran - arrive Orlando 10:30AM.

Staying at Pop Century resort - preferred room - 5 nights - we're meeting up with friends who got there today and we're in the 70's building.

Haven't been to WDW since March of ‘06 (far too long!!!) We were in California this past November and were fortunate enough to go to Disneyland for a day. Never thought I'd get there, and it was great. Still, even with 2 parks, DL paled in comparison to the World!

I didn't think we'd be able to afford going back to WDW this year either. But then Free Dining came back, and I managed to persuade my wife that we needed to go. She and I have been down together 3 times now, and have stayed at moderate resorts Port Orleans: Riverside and Coronado Springs as well as the deluxe resort, Beach Club.

This is our first time in a Value resort. I admit I'm a little apprehensive about it, but really what do you need besides a bed and toilet, right? I had to make it as cheap as possible to convince my Vulcan wife! We also decided to forgo park hoppers, since we have our little guy, and our friends have an almost 2 year old. Neither of the mothers thought schlepping the little tykes between multiple parks a day was an enticing prospect.

So much I'm looking forward to as I prepare! There are a lot of new attractions since our last visit. Everest wasn't open. Nemo wasn't open. Midway Mania. And best of all, I get to see my son experience it for the first time!

Anyway, I need to try to sleep as I must be up in 3 & 1/2 hours to get this house moving and drive to Midway Airport (not the finest of Chicago's two, by the way.) Just too excited and figured I'd get this started.

You can probably expect my first installment by Sunday the 13th or Monday the 14th. I love talking (and writing) about Disney!!!

Off we go . . .

Day 1: Leavin' on a jet plane . . . for an evening at World Showcase.

My alarm went off at 3:35 A.M. Sunday morning, and after only one snooze, I got out of bed to throw a cup of coffee in my eyes. Moonlighting as a DJ now and then, I'm used to operating on only a few hours of sleep.
My wife, not so much. But I had everyone up and going by shortly after 4:00.

Uneventful drive to Chicago Midway Airport, where I dropped them off at curbside to check-in while I parked and caught a shuttle back. The driver laughed as I got on saying he almost didn't come around by the stop where I was waiting because there was never anybody there that early on a Sunday!

Security was a breeze, Sean actually behaved, and before we knew it we were at the gate. To be honest with you, I don't even remember any details of the flight to Orlando. Not until we were minutes from landing. I was on the window and looked down at some really nice homes with their turquoise pools. It was a beautiful, sunny morning in Orlando - the exact opposite of what Weather.com was predicting.

We were the first to board the Disney Magical Express, or DMX as I like to call it. Since we were staying at Pop Century, I knew we would be the first drop-off, thank God, as Sean was starting to get antsy (so was his father!) The on-board video helped pacify him somewhat (and his father!) I was on the bus and finally feeling like "I'm here."

I had done the On-Line Check-In the night before and there was only one other family ahead of me in that particular line in the lobby. It went so smoothly I was actually a little concerned. In the past upon checking in the Cast Member at the desk usually goes through the welcome packet, explaining everything, etc. This was "here's your stuff, here's where you are, have a magical stay!" Given I’d been going longer than the sun and just wanted to lay down for a minute, I didn’t mind the brevity. It just seemed odd.

Since our friends had checked-in the night before I basically already knew where to go. We were in the 70's section, building 10, room 144 (ground floor.) Our door was a 5 minute walk (at least for me . . . more to come on that later) from two pools, the lobby, food, shopping, & bus stops.

Here's where I want to address Pop Century. After booking this trip, I had reservations (no pun) about staying in a Value resort. Let me tell you all, those reservations were completely gone within about 10 minutes. Our room was great, a little tiny sure but honestly I saw little difference between this room and the one's I've stayed in at more expensive “Moderate” resorts. My only complaint would be that yes, the beds are not very comfortable, but I guess I'm forgiving of that. I can sleep on a coffee table if it comes to it. In fact, I have.

That aside, I will very likely stay at Pop Century again, unless I find myself in a position to join the Disney Vacation Club at some point. Which in these current economic conditions, seems unlikely any time soon. I love the theme and kitsch of Pop Century. Every day on the way to the pool we'd pass the giant Big Wheel and towering Mickey Mouse phone, and just couldn't help but smile. As my friend Joe put it, this is what you expect from a Disney hotel. You want whimsy!

We loved the Hippie Dippy pool between the 60's buildings, especially the kids zero-depth pool. For those not aware, it’s a large swimming pool shaped like a flower. The décor all around the pool area looked like a recreation of the set of Laugh In. Perhaps my favorite feature of this particular pool was Pedals pool bar a few yards away. While I tend to stick to bourbon and Cuba Libres, I did try and enjoy a Lava Lamp (or 3)! Don’t ask me exactly what was in them, but it was some cold combination of multiple spirits and Technicolor.

Anyway, we were checked in by noon and our room was ready. So we dropped off our carry-ons, and since we hadn't eaten much breakfast, walked back to the food court with our friends who been just about to head to the pool when we arrived. The one mistake we made (I'm saying we, even though I had suggested it the night before) was that we hadn't put swimsuits in our carry-on bags. But we figured if we were lucky by time we ate, our bags would have found their way to the room.

I must confess the food court at Pop is somewhat vast and can be overwhelming. For lunch, I had a meatball sub and salad simply because I was starving and my head was spinning so I just pointed to the first thing I saw. Honestly, the sandwich wasn't bad. Messy, but then, aren't they supposed to be?

Joe had a chili cheese dog and cheese fries, clearly no lactose intolerance there, and they looked pretty good. He said it was passable. We can be somewhat unfairly judgmental of chili dogs, given that we’re from Chicago. We have the best chili dog in the world here at a place called Portillo’s. If you come to visit, you have to try one and you’ll see I’m right so I feel no obligation to defend that statement. I’ll just say no food court dog in the world stands a chance. So to earn even a tentative thumbs up is an achievement.

Sadly I don't even remember what my wife or kid had.

By the time we finished lunch, and I bought myself a refillable mug (which definitely pays for itself), our luggage was already in the room. So on went the bathing suits and to the pool we went. I must admit that I needed maybe 15 minutes at the pool, just to unwind and cool off, and then I was ready to hit our first planned park, Epcot. I had made online reservations for San Angel Inn that evening. San Angel is the restaurant located inside the Mexico pavilion in Epcot’s World Showcase. You dine “al fresco” in on the banks of a Mexican river on a beautiful night in the shadow of an ancient temple. And this, you can do in the middle of the day since you’re inside the whole time.

Unfortunately the rest of the group wanted to float around for a couple hours, which I obliged (although begrudgingly.) I’ve said it before, but I like to hit Walt Disney World commando style. I could step off the plane and not stop going until I had to board it again at the end of the week. My wife will constantly say “aren’t you tired? How can you still be going?” Its Disney magic babe; it keeps me running.

By time we were all done at the pool and the kids each caught a quick catnap, it was already nearly 4:30 and our ADR was for 5:45. I called to try to push it back but there was no availability. I said at lunch there were 2 things I really wanted to do at Epcot, knowing how limited time would be, and that was Nemo & Friends (because we hadn’t been there since its opening) and Spaceship Earth, because of the refurbishment and because prior to this trip, Joe, who has been to WDW with his in-laws now about a half-dozen times, didn’t even know “the big ball had a ride in it.”

We got to Epcot and immediately saw a huge line for Spaceship Earth. I couldn’t believe it. Every other time I’ve come in early September, you could walk right on. They practically begged guests to ride it. Not this time. Not, I later learned, since the rehab.

So, with a shrug I led on towards The Seas, figuring it a better choice for out little ones anyway. I was really excited about this, a new dark ride featuring Nemo, and utilizing a cool effect to make it look like Nemo and friends were in the real aquarium. This was clearly going to be awesome, right? Um, sadly not so much. Total let-down. I mean I guess it is cute, but I was really bored. And I think my 2 & ½ year old was too.

When we exited the Seas pavilion, the Orlando sky had turned very grey, and there were loud thunder claps booming not so distantly away. Halfway to Mexico, I was taken down memory lane with reminders of the original Living Seas attraction, as it began to rain . . . and rain . . . and rain . . .. Ok, maybe that’s a little too inside!

We made it just in time for our reservation, like a pack of wet dogs and just as hungry. We were given a nice corner table. Here was where we had to learn exactly how to work with the “Free” dining plan. We all wanted margaritas (it was our first day of vacation after all, and we were in Mexico!) which of course are not included, and we had 2 kids who were under 3, therefore free to the parks, but not included in the dining. So each couple ended up with two bills. One for our entrees, one for drinks and each child.

I’ve been to Mexico many times and eaten authentic Mexican food, but I must confess all I really wanted that night (and in fact was craving) was a plate of tacos and rice and beans.

Warning: These are not to be found on the dinner menu of San Angel Inn.

However, what I did have, and three out of four of us had, was the Filete Motuleno. Grilled beef tenderloin over black beans and melted cheese, ranchero sauce, Poblano pepper strips and fried plantains. I would never claim to be cultured enough to know if it was authentic, but I do know it was delicious! We all agreed. The ranchero sauce was a little spicy, but I loved every bite. One of those “lick the plate clean” kind of meals.

For dessert I had the Capirotada de Chocolate Blanco: white chocolate and golden raisin bread pudding served with Mexican milk caramel. Wendy had a mousse with berries that I don’t remember the name of, and Ashley had the flan. Of course the kids had ice cream. Dessert was underwhelming. My bread pudding was dry, though I will say once I scooped some of Sean’s ice cream over it, it was a decided improvement. That said I couldn’t have been happier with our first dinner, and every one left satisfied.

I really wanted to eat at Le Cellier but could never find an opening. It is a steakhouse in the Canada pavilion and apparently quite delicious, and therefore quite popular. People make reservations, or ADR in Dis-speak 90 days in advance. Apparently they have a cheese soup that, alone, is worth waiting 90 days for. Makes me salivate thinking about it, and I’ve never even seen a picture. I will get to Le Cellier someday, San Angel Inn was a great choice.

After dinner we hopped on the Gran Fiesta boat tour. I hadn’t been down that river since the 80’s when it was essentially a really boring (and dated) travel film for the Mexican Department of Tourism. The changes and addition of the Three Caballeros is much better. It’s still a bit slow but the music is exciting and the overall vibe is fun, and Sean being a big Donald Duck fan really enjoyed trying to spot him throughout the “show.”

Here’s one negative: This is the second time, in two consecutive visits, where we were waiting on a CM in the Mexico pavilion and she (both times female) turned her back on us because she had friends appear and had to hug them and socialize. It was so weird that my wife and I looked at each other and said “this same thing happened last time.” When she and I went there for lunch 4 years ago we had to wait while two young people in plain clothes jumped ahead of us and the hostess hugged them and they carried on a 5 minute conversation in Spanish. I don’t know if they were from home, or just CM’s on their day off, but it was off-putting.

The exact same thing happened waiting for Gran Fiesta. At least this time the catching up was much quicker and they actually got on a boat. Do you know what would happen if I turned my back on a client to catch up with a buddy who dropped by?

Still, it was a little thing I guess – I would actually expect that were on vacation in Ixtapa. But you just come to expect a little better at Disney. Not like it ruined my day. It’s just weird that it happened twice, four years apart, in the same place.

It rained on and off for a little while after dinner, and once it finally stopped, it got so humid that my shirt couldn’t even finish drying, between rain and my sweating. We tried to jump on the Maelstrom in Norway but there was a 30 minute wait, again a first for me. Maelstrom is a boat ride that takes you on a brief tour of Norway’s history, both real and imagined. There are encounters with Vikings, polar bears, and even a two-headed troll. I have a soft spot in my heart for this pavilion since its troll-heavy, and one of my working projects, as my blog readers know, is a story about trolls. It’s my dream that it gets turned into a Disney animated feature someday and kids can meet my characters at the Norway pavilion. It’s perfect synergy!

Future World was closed at 7, so there was nothing else to do but wander through World Showcase, which is fine with me, even with the heat. My wife and I knew just what to do – we headed straight for the Morocco where we both knew favorite guilty pleasures awaited. There’s a little stand outside the pavilion for liquid refreshment that she and I fell in love with years ago.

Wendy goes for this tangerine daiquiri type thing (the name escapes me now and I can’t find it online) and I always get a Casa Beer. It’s a slightly bitter, slightly citrusy beer and Epcot is the only place I’ve ever seen it. Although that might be because, apparently I’ve never actually looked at the label. I walked up and ordered, as I’ve always thought until this September 6th it was called, a “Casablanca” beer.

The CM knew of course what I meant and chuckled as he asked me if I’d been to Morocco or to Casablanca. I said no, only seen the movie, though one day I would really love to go. That’s when I looked at the label and realized my error. Durr. Guess I’ve just seen the Bogey movie too many times because subconsciously my brain was filling in the “Blanca” part.

We eventually found a nice spot to camp out for Illuminations, just between the U.K. and Canada. This was where I saw something amazing and at the same time spooky. It was dark now, and there were some gray clouds in the black sky. And across the lake, the big, orange, full moon looked like it was literally hovering just above the Mexican temple.

And it was framed by burning torches around the waters edge. I scrambled for the camera and tried to capture it but our Sony Cyber Shot only zooms in so far, and it really didn’t come out that clear. So then I got the video camera out and just started recording. As the display went from STBY to REC, I zoomed in on this beautiful shot, and the narration for Illuminations kicked in (which if you haven’t seen/heard you just can’t get the feel of what I’m talking about . . . and shame on you) and it just made for an awesome scene. I held tight on it until the old man blew the torches out, then panned over to record the rest of the show.

It was just a “you had to be there” moment. The Disney Imagineers couldn’t have created a better effect for Halloween than nature did that night.

Once Illuminations ended, great as always, we began the arduous journey to the front gates along with the rest of the park. A joy, I discovered, that is only enhanced now that I find myself for the first time fighting the throng with a stroller before me.

I was more than a little sad that this would be my only time at Epcot this trip. Didn’t get to see the new ending to Spaceship Earth. No Test Track. No Soarin’. Didn’t get to take Sean on Imagination, though wasn’t really sure how he’d take to it yet anyway. I really love Epcot and it is definitely a whole-day park for me. Had we purchased Park Hopper tickets like we used to, maybe I could’ve come back some morning and caught some of my favorite attractions. Due to our budget, we only had single-day/park tickets this time so the odds of coming back were slim. We had 4 more full days and those days were accounted for, and Epcot was not in the mix again. Or so I thought.

We made our way to the bus, discovering another slight drawback to staying at Pop Century. You are always the last bus stop. And it is usually packed, especially if you do wait til the very end of the night to leave. No matter. I was tired but happy to be in Walt Disney World again. Sean was content in his stroller. And tomorrow morning we were off to the Magic Kingdom. The world was as it should be . . .

Back to Pop, and quickly into bed, after a few minutes of watching my girlfriend Stacey (shh, don’t tell the wife) and her list of Must-Do's! It took me a while to fall asleep, even after only a couple hours of rest the night before. My mind wouldn’t slow down, thinking of the next few days to come. I had to tell myself, as I did often this trip, to stop thinking about tomorrow, or the next day, or the next week. Enjoy the very moment, in a Disney hotel, on Disney property, at Disney World. No better place I know.

Tomorrow, breakfast early at the Crystal Palace with Pooh, and then we storm the Kingdom!

What Is the Meaning of This (Weird, Rambling Post)???

Hello faithful from the faithful departed (blogger).

Sorry I've been away. Don't know how you've gotten along without me.

This won't be a long post, except to say if you are a reader (I would say follower but since I have no followers, you are not) you may find the next couple posts to be something of a conundrum.
A conundrum, as we know, is not nearly as fun or tropical as a conga.

Those who know me intimately (naughty) know I fancy myself a writer, when I fancy myself at all. I've been working on a screenplay for a couple years now and this week I've turned a corner. I've decided I need to stop editing it, and just start sending it out.

Of course, as it happens in the last week I've found inspiration for a new, completely unrelated passion project. Something I'm actually willing to invest not only time but my own money in so that it may come to some form of fruition. I'm going to write and self-publish a little vanity book. It's something of a humor book. Something of a travel guide. And it is all about my favorite destination in the whole wide world. Would have said "south of Heaven", but, well, let's be honest. I like this place better.

Yeah, you guessed it (did the Pluto pic give it away?) I'm writing a little tome about Walt Disney World. But with a specific theme. I'm still lining up the outline in my head right now.
But to flex the creative muscles, I've gone back to the well a little bit.

To explain, I'm going to have to "out" myself a bit. I'm not just a Disney fan, I'm a big ol' Disney Geek. And I belong to a number of Disney World online communities. And on such communities, there are forums where individuals post what are known as Trip Reports.
To date I have posted two trip reports. One about our one day excursion to Disneyland in Nov. 2008, and the other about our trip to WDW last September. The handful of readers who commented on either had very favorable things to say. It's always nice for a writer to hear that someone is reading and enjoying what he has to say . . . ahem . . . !

At any rate, long story short, I'm going to sift through those and make a few edits (simply to ellaborate on abbreviations, and explain some things that you mundane, non-Disneyphiles wouldn't otherwise understand.) For instance, if I were to say, "we boarded the DME and MCO which took us to PC to relax, and considered hitting DTD since the CM said that night was EMH at MK" you'd probably follow, um, none of it.

Why am I doing this? Are these going to be expanded to form some kind of book? No. But they help to get me in the right mindset. Trust me, if you knew the plot of my screenplay that I've been inhabiting a lot lately, you'd understand that is NOT a Disney headspace at all!

So bare with me. Given that you are simply a figment of my imagination anyway, as nobody reads this, I don't know why I'm explaining myself.

But hell, I hadn't posted anything in over 3 months. Figured I ought to post something to link the gap from the last post to the next.

Anyway, don't say you weren't warned when you find yourself squinting and scratching your head.

The Troll Prince

The Troll Prince

Once upon a time, in the Kingdom of Trolloria there stood a mighty castle made of smooth black stones. It rose from the top of the highest hill, looking down over the kingdom. Inside the impressive dark fortress, many a strong and terrible troll had sat upon the throne. Within its mighty walls, many a troll prince had been born and raised up to be king when his father’s rule reached one-hundred years.

This was the way it had always been. On one warm summer’s evening, such a prince was to be born. But the legacy of this particular Troll Prince would be the most unusual of all.

A castle servant named Scralp was dispatched by a nursemaid to fetch King Ungerous and inform him that the Queen had given birth. Scralp’s stumpy legs carried him as fast as they could through the cavernous halls of the royal palace. Menacing, monsterous portraits of past Kings stared down on him as he went. The King had been pacing the castle all morning gnawing on ox bones and nervously slurping down steamy buckets of tar pit tea with saw grass blades and ground thistles to calm his nerves.

Scralp finally found the King in his trophy room grinding the edge of his favorite battle axe for a third time that day. The hulking, mustard skinned King hunched over with his back toward the door, running an otter pelt rag across the broad curved blade. He peered with satisfaction down his squash-like nose at the blade. Squatty, green Scralp cowered in his presence. He knew this was the very axe that King Ungerous had used to slay the legendary fireworm that threatened Trolloria decades before. Scralp nervously cleared his throat. He smoothed his frizzy red mane and side-burns with a moss-colored hand and stuttered to get the first words out.

“Ah-ahem, you . . . your highness,” he said.

King Ungerous whirled his mountainous body around, his black and silver robe twirling around him, gripping the axe in his melon-sized hand. His large oval eyes squinted at the servant and he leaned down, glaring past his bulbous nose at the diminutive servant. His thick, purple beard with braided knots fell against his barrel chest. He gnashed his jagged teeth with irritation.

“What is it?” he demanded. The steel crown shifted on his furrowing brow. His bushy purple hair rose three pumpkins high off of his head and flowed back in a wave, resting on his pancake sized ears.

“It’s the-the-the Queen, your highness,” Scralp stammered. “She’s given birth.”

The King’s eyes widened like ostrich eggs.

“My child has arrived?” he said with excitement. “What is it? What did she have?”

Scralp shifted nervously.

“I believe I heard the nursemaid say it is a Prince,” he answered. “I mean, he is a Prince. The child, that is. You – you have a son, sire.”

King Ungerous raised his mighty axe into the air. Scralp’s knees buckled and he covered his head with his stubby arms. The King let loose a howl of joy and flung his beloved axe across the room, sticking the blade deep into the stone wall with a powerful thud.

“I have a Prince!” he bellowed. He lifted Scralp into the air and swung him around like a child’s stuffed werebear. They danced around the room as the King chanted a joyous tune. His trophy room shook with every foot fall. “I have a Prince! I have a Prince!”

Finally Ungerous dropped Scralp to the hard floor and bounded down the corridor toward the East Wing. Suits of heavy troll armor clattered and shook as his huge yellow feet pounded the stone. When he reached the thick oak door of the nursery, he didn’t even stop to turn the handle. His mighty spotted forearms rammed the door off its iron hinges as he burst through with an excited grin on his watermelon sized jaw.

“Where is he?” he bellowed. “Where’s my boy? Where is my Prince?”

Queen Grebleena had her head back against a pillow and a blue skinned maid dabbed at her forehead with cool cloth. Her orange hair was matted to her round ears and her pink skin glistened with sweat. She looked exhausted.

“Madam,” said the blue troll softly. “His Royal Highness has arrived. He’s asking to see the child.”

“Yes,” said Ungerous, going to his wife’s bedside and taking her clammy hand. “I have come, dear wife. Where is he? I wish to see our son.”

“Ungerous,” said Queen Grebleena, opening her gentle purple eyes. “I sent Rattina to clean the child and wrap him in warm blankets. She’ll bring him in momentarily.”

“Someone fetch her now,” Ungerous demanded. “I want to see the boy. We must give him a name; a proper name. I was thinking Grunlock, after Grunlock the Terrible. Grunlock was the greatest bridge troll in history. It’s a strong name. A name befitting the next King of Trolloria.”

“Husband, please,” said the Queen. “You must stop blathering. I need you to listen to me.”

The King could see she was looking at him gravely.

“What is it?” he asked. “What is wrong? Is the child not healthy?”

“Oh, he appears to be healthy,” she said. “And he bellows as loud as his father.”

The King swelled with pride.

“He’s a born King,” said Ungerous. “I knew he’d be a natural leader among trolls. Just like me! What is his color?”

“That’s just it,” said Queen Grebleena. “His color is, well, unusual.”

The King eyed her suspiciously.

“How do you mean, unusual? Is he some new shade of purple or green? There’s no shame in that. A leader should stand out. I’ve often wished my yellow hide and lavender spots were more unique.”

“Ungerous, listen to me. I suppose his skin is somewhat . . . pinkish.”

“Pink? Well, then he takes his color from you. Your skin is pink. There is no shame in that. Blagthorpe the Bloodthirsty was pink, and bald. No one mocked him, I assure you.”

“Not pink like me,” she said. “A strange, lighter shade of pink. Almost more like the peaches that grow in the fields along the southern border by the Mungo Bridge.”

“Hmm,” the King muttered, pondering this news. “I don’t find that so alarming. Unusual yes, but no need for panic. When his hair grows out and his nose sprouts, he’ll be a fine troll.”

“That’s the problem my husband,” said the Queen. “He has some hair already. It’s soft and thin and lays flat against his head. Strangest of all, it’s merely . . . brown.”

“Brown?” repeated the King.

“And his nose,” she went on. “Bare in mind husband, he is just born, but his nose is somewhat tiny. In fact, it’s barely a button on his peachy face.”

“Rattina!” King Ungerous growled. “Bring me my child, now!”

“Ungerous, please,” said the Queen, trying to calm him and patting his hand.

“I want to see this child for myself. I want to see this brown hair, and unformed nose, and strangely peach colored flesh. I want to see it with my own eyes, before I let this madness you speak affect my mind.”

The nervous maid did as she was commanded and carried in the newborn for the King to inspect.

Ungerous took his infant son and with one calloused yellow finger moved the blankets away. The child was sleeping. Indeed the flesh was soft and pinkish, and he had a tiny round head, like a melon. Its hair was thin and straight and brown. Ungerous poked gently at it. Finally, he pushed the child back at the nursemaid.

“Take it away,” he said softly. “There must be a mistake. That is no manner of troll I’ve ever seen.”

“Ungerous!” the Queen exclaimed. “That is our son! Your son. You can not cast him away simply because he is different!”

“How can that be our son?” he bellowed. “Our child is to be the next King of all Trolloria. He is to lead our people and strike fear into the hearts of our enemies! Do you think the ogres or goblins will remain in exile if they learn the next King of Trolloria looks like a . . .? “

“Like a what?” the Queen glared. “What were you about to say? And consider your words carefully before you answer, husband.”

“Well, I mean to say . . . that is,” The King stammered, seeing his wife’s displeasure. Perhaps, he thought, best to tread gently. “It’s just that, well, the child looks . . ., that is to say, he resembles a, well, a human.”

“Ungerous,” she said again, “the boy is your son, no matter what you think he resembles. You will not shun him. If you do, you will find yourself feeling quite shunned. At least around this castle! In fact I dare say you are beginning to resemble a creature other than a troll yourself. A jackass!”

The King sighed, looking again at the sleeping infant.

“But how can he grow to be King?” he asked.

“Give it time, husband,” said the Queen. “Perhaps he was just born a bit premature. Surely your mighty nose was not so protrusive the day you were born. And I recall your ears were quite small for your head well into your training years.”

If the Troll King weren’t yellow, he might have blushed bright scarlet at this memory.

“Very well,” he said. He took his Queen’s pudgy pink hand. “I will love this child as though he were born with green skin and hair of bright fuchsia.”

The King looked around the room at the servants and maids. They were all smiling now. It made him nervous. As King, Ungerous knew he had enemies all around. He could not afford to appear weak. Nor could he allow talk of weakness in his line.

“But I make a decree here and now, in front of all of you,” he boomed, looking sternly at every troll in the room. “News of his birth shall not leave this castle!”

He took Scralp by the throat and lifted him into the air for all to see.

“None of you is to say a word,” Ungerous continued. “The child is to remain safe within the castle for as long as I say, and not even a hint of his birth is to slip over these walls.”

“Ungerous,” Queen Grebleena protested.

“It is for his own good,” he interrupted. “We will raise him here and watch his growing until he blossoms into a full-fledged troll. When that happens, I will proclaim his birth from the top of this castle so that it will be heard on the furthest edges of Trolloria. But not before, is that clear?”

“Y-y-your majesty m-makes himself quite clear,” Scralp squeaked as the grip around his neck tightened. “Naaaa . . . not a word will be uttered of the Prince’s birth beyond these castle walls.”
The other servants nodded in agreement.

“Very well,” said the King releasing Scralp with a drop and thud. “Your confidence will be rewarded. Just as any loose talk or disloyalty will be met with a wrath unimagined.”

King Ungerous took the child again. He could cradle the babe in just his palm and forearm. Gently he patted its small head.

Queen Grebleena watched with a sigh. She was glad at least to see her husband accepting the child, if in his own way.

“What do you wish to name your heir?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Perhaps he should be called Mannen.”

The Queen knew this was a word for “human” in one of the outsiders’ tongues. She once again scowled at her husband.

“He will not be called Mannen,” Grebleena growled. “What do you say to calling him Kronen?”

“Kronen?” the King repeated. “After Kronen the Wise, who ended the Troll War and united bridge and cave trolls?”

“That’s correct. Prince Kronen. He will wear the crown of Trolloria after his father’s one-hundredth year, just as tradition demands. This child will impress you, I am sure of it.”

And so it was.

The birth of Prince Kronen, first son of King Ungerous and Queen Grebleena went wholly unheralded in the kingdom of Trolloria. The King ordered construction of a whole new wing for the boy, complete with a private garden courtyard not visible from outside. The child had his own little forest, complete with a bog and a waterfall. He had toy clubs and wooden troll soldiers. Pet swamp rats and spikeypines to hunt. Even a purple Iguanadog called Groot who followed him faithfully wherever he went. Prince Kronen knew no life outside of the castle, and little life outside of his southern wing. He also knew nothing of the difference between himself and his mother and father, or the servants who attended to him daily.

To Prince Kronen, he was just a young troll, and he was happy.

to be continued . . .

B. Scott 12/01/2009

We Had It All, Like Bogey and Bacall: An Ode to Christmas Past . . . and Bertucci's!

Well it's that time once again. Early November, and you know what that means. The Christmas music is already on a continuous loop in my office.
I'm not the Grinch here. I actually like hearing Christmas music. In fact, I dare say my heart has grown to enjoy the Christmas season in recent years. And that's saying something because I spent a great deal of my Twenties locked in "Bah Humbug" mode.

Maybe it's fatherhood that softened me to it. Admittedly I always feel inadequate that I can't really spend the kind of bucks I want to on my son. But let's be honest, he doesn't need a $300 powered Lightning McQueen that he can sit in and stear. Nor does he need enough Duplo blocks to build a castle he can actually stand up in. I just want him to have those things.

Still, that not withstanding, I am looking forward to the holidays. I've even made my peace with with the inevitable snowfall that's soon coming. I just don't feel we need to rush it. Thanksgiving is a wonderful holiday too. The smells, the sights, the tastes, . . . I suppose the fellowship. Well, I suppose we just have to accept that, especially in this tough economy when retailers are flailing about in the tide, they're going to keep inundating us with Christmas music earlier and earlier to get us all in that shopping mood.

Which is why I've stopped verbally complaining about the music and decorations materializing so early. It is pretty much a tradition in itself now, and we can all stop marvelling at it. We're really not that surprised any more, are we?

There is something to be said for Christmas in Novemeber. The radio station we've got on at work has pulled a couple obscure ones out of their bu . . . stockings. I'm pretty sure I just heard Anita Bryant singing "Sleigh Ride."

Nothing says Peace on Earth and Good Will Toward Men like the vocal stylings of Anita Bryant.

I'll pause for those of you under the age of 50 (and/or non-Pop Culture junkies like 34 year-old me) to Google "Anita Bryant." You'll get it.

A favorite Christmas classic of mine is Happy Holidays (It's the Holiday Season) by Mr. Branson, MO himself, Andy Williams. Now let me be quite candid. I hate this song. Musically, lyrically, it drives me up a tree. Andy Williams doesn't help with his cheesey, Catskills delivery. And yet, it's still a favorite of mine, because it somehow transports me back in time every time I hear it.

The song takes me back 14 years. I was 20 years old, waiting tables in a mid-scale Italian restaurant in the suburbs. It was the first place I remember hearing that song, and I must have heard it at least 3 times a shift. I have vivid memories of the quiet times before the rush would start when we'd be refilling romano shakers, wiping down table tops, and hearing Andy singing "So leave a peppermint stick, for old Saint Nick."

I can clearly remember rolling my eyes thinking what a stupid song.

Or as Andy says "whoop-dee-do."

But, those days were some of the happiest of my life. I was young, lost, with little responsibility (other than having to start paying back the student loans for the education I'd quit attempting halfway through), and doing a job that was easy and fun and put cash in pocket every day.

Ok, maybe I shouldn't say "easy", as I spent my fair share of evenings deeply lost in the "weeds." No, that's not a drug reference. Fellow food service veterens know that term all too well, as we've all been there. Still, I loved that job. And even on my worst nights, I was good at it. Damn good.

And I will tell you there was something special about that particular restaurant. Perhaps it was because most of us there, especially that first year, were hired before the restaurant even opened.

It was a Boston-based outfit new to the Chicago area. We went through training together, just like school. We discovered this new menu together. It helped us all grow together like a crew on a ship. I'm not the first to draw the analogy that restaurant people are the modern day pirates.

Without the automatic weapons of course.

The owner, because at that time there actually was one owner - Joey, believed strongly in the idea of family. The decor and motif was very warm inside, intended to be very "homey" and comfortable. It was said they even chose green table cloths as it was a soothing, calming color. The walls were lined with big jugs of wine. We wanted people to sit and relax. Take their time. Sip some vino. Mangia.

We had these fresh baked rolls that were just, you can't even describe. Tear open a hot one and stuff with caponata, or dip it in the sauce . . .! I'm not Italian, but let me just say "fuggedaboudit!"

We had a big beautiful wood-burning brick oven that just smelled . . . wonderful. It made coming in to work every morning better.

And it made the holidays feel even more like, well, just like they're supposed to. It was our own giant buring hearth.

It also helped that the entire staff was like a big family. Almost everyone got along, even with the many different personalities. Sure things got tense. But when the customers began to filter out, and the Mexican music began to play in the kitchen, everyone began to smile and joke and breathe again.

I loved working Christmas Eve there. We'd all be sneaking little "cordials" between the handful of tables that came in. There was a lot of love and well-wishing when we closed early that night.

To be honest, I didn't want to go home. I could have spent that Christmas Eve in the restaurant, white shirt and Looney Tunes tie and all.

This was my other home and those people were my extended family. In fact, that first Christmas, my family was out of town and I was returning to an empty house as I would be making the drive to Indiana on Christmas morning. At the last minute, a handful of my compadres asked if they could come by (my house had become something of the hangout for those of us not yet legal to hit the bars) and I said of course.

We spent our Christmas Eve playing monopoly, drinking fully-loaded Eggnog, and soaking in my parents' outdoor hot tub while snow fell all around. Not a bad way to wait for Saint Nick.

Now I find myself back in the present. Still in a white shirt, but the ties are a little more expensive (though sometimes still stained by tomato sauce.) My hair has some gray, and I'm rounder 'round the middle from sitting at a desk the last decade.

In those days I was on my feet all day, checking on tables, expediting food, washing dishes when necessary (something I actually LOVED to do, and strangely still do - you choose your brand of therapy; mine's cheaper) and just generally rocking and rolling. Making less than half of what I do now, but in some ways never happier.

I'm sure when I talk about those days, I sound like Edward G. Robinson in the movie Key Largo. It was classic Robinson as he played Johnny Rocco, a fugitive mob boss holed up with his gang in a small Key Largo waiting out a Hurricane. It's my favorite Bogart flick, after Casablanca. While Rocco is again type-cast as a gangster scumbag, he has this running heartache about the end of Prohibition.

He's constantly asking other gangsters in the flick, "Don't you think we'll get it (Prohibiton) back? You'll see, we'll get it back," he says. "Then we'll be back on top."

Even though he's a feared and respected gangster, he still yearns for the past. Times were simpler. You ran hooch, you made money, everybody got along. Then things changed. They got more complicated. Money was harder to come by and pressures were building.

I suppose it goes back to what I was saying about knowing you were really good at something once. It's tough when that thing doesn't exist any more. After the restaurant business, I found myself working in the sub-prime mortgage industry (talk about a Pirate analogy - but don't hang me, I was only a lowly crewman) and I think I was pretty damn good at that job too. Til the ship sank, and then of course the entire ocean dried up.
Point is, I understand Rocco's speech, and his feelings all too well.

Still, I wouldn't trade the blessings I've recieved since then to ever go back. But Christmas, and that song especially, will always take me back to those days.

Ok, so I took a funny turn there. If you want a Christmas themed Bogart film, rent We're No Angels. The original. Not that DeNiro/Sean Penn thing from the 80's.

Here's to the good old days of many a Christmas Past. Here's to the start of Christmas Present, early though it may be. And to the hope for many and even happier to come.

Oh yeah, . . . Happy Thanksgiving!

"He'll be comin' down the chimney, down!"

Rough character sketches

Max & the ghost of Hammerhead Jack

In the mood for a Pirate Tale . . . ?

The Legend of Hammerhead Jack

Port Ignatius, Virgin Islands – 1675 –
It was mid morning and the docks were full of merchant ships bringing livestock, textiles, and tea to the colony of Port Ignatius. In return they loaded crates of sugar, barrels of coffee, and cases of rum to sell back in England and Holland and Spain. Sailors and merchants bustled about the shops and businesses alongside the townsfolk.

A group of children gathered on the porch outside the Flying Fish Tavern. Inside, the owner Percy Johnston swept the dusty floorboards. It was still a few hours til opening time.
Out front two expectant “patrons” rested in the morning shade. One was a scruffy straw-colored dog that constantly wandered the port. The other, a stout old man who was a fixture at the tavern. He was the unofficial mascot and storyteller of the Flying Fish, known simply throughout the island as the Commodore.

The Commodore had a round, pink face with a twisted and knotted gray beard. He sat on a stool telling stories to whoever would listen. He had no home or job to speak of. His clothing was tattered and dirty, but his belly was round and full. A green parrot stood a constant watch on his left shoulder, picking tasty fleas from his stringy hair.
His chubby calloused fingers wrapped around the head of his walking stick, which was carved into the face of lion. Where his right leg should have been, instead there was a wooden peg screwed in at the knee.

Everyone knew when the Commodore was around by the clip-clopping sound he made along the floor. He rarely moved though, except to dab sweat from his brow in the tropical heat, or take a swig of grog from the tin cup on a crate beside him.
The Commodore told tales of adventures on the high seas, always he said, as a merchant sailor or privateer. Never did he once claim to participate in or endorse a life of piracy. Often the children who gathered every Saturday to hear him speak would ask to hear how he fought off a tiger shark with only a whale bone knife. It was the same shark, he said, that took his leg.
But on this particular morning, they all wanted to hear another familiar legend – the story of the legendary privateer, Hammerhead Jack.

“So,” began the Commodore with a sly grin, “ye wants to hear a tale of Captain Hammerhead Jack, do ye?” To which all the children would cheer.

“Very well, then. I’ll oblige, only because Hammerhead Jack was the finest man to ever sail the seven seas. The greatest pirate hunter this world has ever known.”

“Is it true he wore a mask?” a little boy asked.

“Aye,” said the Commodore. “A mask the color of turquoise that covered his head and eyes. Hammerhead Jack knew early on the Pirate Brethren would set a fine price on his head. He figured if they didn’t know what he looked like, they’d have a hard time finding him, even when he was sat among them in a tavern.”

“Did Hammerhead Jack ever come to Port Ignatius?” asked another child.

“Did he come here? Why, it were just off these shores he made his final stand,” the Commodore declared. “I was aboard ship with ol’ Hammerhead as he chased down the dastardly pirate Black Eyed Bill right here to Port Ignatius. Little did I know then it would be our last adventure, as it was to be Hammerhead’s final voyage.
Jack despised Black Eye above all other pirates. Legend has it he and Bill know’d each other as children all of yer age. Some even rumored they was brothers but some rift sent Bill astray.”

The Commodore took a slobbery swig from his cup. Foam ran down his beard, dripping onto his belly.

“Well after years of being thwarted at sea by Captain Hammerhead, ol’ Black Eye
set about burning down villages across the Caribbean, after robbing them of all their goods. His plan was to pin the blame on Jack, making it appear that Hammerhead was turncoat. Black Eye instructed his crew to spread rumors throughout the taverns and ports that someone had seen Jack’s ship always sailing off after each attack.

Then one night he and his crew came upon an East India merchant ship listing at port, and set fire to her deck. Before rowing away in the night, Bill took a blue glove, much like one of Jack’s, and tossed it onto the dock. What fool would believe ol’ Jack would drop his glove I don’t know, but it didn’t matter. In spite of all the good Hammerhead Jack had done capturing pirates all over the Caribbean, or his reputation as a gentleman, the King was furious.
The English Navy began chasing Hammerhead Jack all over the ocean, with a warrant for his arrest on the charge of piracy and treason against King and Country. The same King, it should be said who’d commissioned him to hunt pirates in the first place. It was well assumed that if the Navy overtook Jack’s ship, he’d be hung in the first port they found.”

The Commodore ran his meaty finger across his throat, making a grinding sound out of the side of his mouth. The children recoiled and gasped in horror.

“It was likely Jack would be spared the benefit of a fair trial in London,” the Commodore continued.

The yellow mutt at his feet lifted its head and whimpered. Even he’d heard this tale many times before

“Aye,” he continued. “Some say justice is a blind lady. I don’t know if she be blind, but she can sure be misguided. It’s no wonder ladies are considered bad luck aboard a ship. Fortunately, the Navy never caught up to the Mermaid Queen.”

The Commodore looked at a young girl in the front of the group. Her family was new to the Port Ignatius.

“That of course be the name of Hammerhead’s ship. Oh, the Mermaid Queen was a beauty of a Dutch Flute, with a high rear where you could see over the whole vessel. Many nights I stood watch on that quarter deck. Captain Hammerhead would come up and stand with me, often taking the wheel his self.

One day, nigh on twenty years ago Jack came across Black Eyed Bill only a mile out past our very docks. Bill was on his way to sack Port Ignatius, and maybe burn her to the ground as well. Captain Hammerhead gave the order to fire all guns across his flank. As Bill’s ship began to slip into the drink, his band of cut throats began to swing across to board the M.Q. and overtake the crew. Jack’s men had the higher position, but they were far outnumbered by the pirates.”

“You mean you were outnumbered?” said another child.

The Commodore chuckled. “That’s right,” he said. “We were outnumbered. There was little chance we could have kept the ship, or our throats, and ol’ Jack knew it. He climbed atop the quarter deck and called out to us with his sword held high. ‘Men,’ he called out, ‘I order you all to abandon ship!’

“Well at first we all refused. But Hammerhead Jack would not be defied, not even by his loyal crew. He would rather die than let dastardly Black Eyed Bill take his ship or bring harm to us. He drew the pistola from his belt and fired it at the deck by his feet. The men were confused at first. Then we watched as a ball of orange fire ignited on the deck and began to slither down the steps, across the ship. The dancing flame was quickly advancing along a black trail toward an overturned powder keg. Our beloved captain was going to scuttle the ship.

All the men scrambled toward the side of the ship, diving headfirst into the water. I remember bobbing along the surface when the first explosion lit up the night sky. And there still stood Hammerhead Jack aboard the ship, watching as the unlucky pirates were launched into the air. We all shouted for him to dive in after us. It were only moments ‘afore the flames would reach the other barrels below deck. There was enough powder on board to blast that ship to kingdom come!”

“Did he jump?” asked a child.

“Oh no,” said the Commodore, “not Hammerhead Jack. You see one last pirate still stood aboard the deck of the Mermaid Queen. It was Black Eyed Bill himself. The filthy dog lunged at Jack from behind. Oh, sorry there pup.” He reached down and scratched the dog behind the ears. “No offense meant.”

“Where was I? Oh yes, Black Eye tried a sneak attack on Hammerhead. He drew a dagger and swiped it at Jack’s back. Hammerhead swung around and punched Black Eye right in face. I didn’t see it, but some closer to the ship say the black opal that Bill kept in his empty socket bounced across the deck. Bill drew his sword and the two arch rivals engaged in a duel to end all duels. They were both brilliant with a blade, and they danced across the deck trading blows as fire began to overtake the ship. Hammerhead looked brilliant against the orange flames in his blue and white, and Black-eye just a devil in his blood red coat and black wig.
Hammerhead looked out at us all treading water in the bay and gave us a grin. Then he swung ‘round and knocked the sword right out of Bill’s hand. He brought the butt of his sword down hard against Bill’s head. Ol’ Black Eye hit the deck like a sack of flour.

From the water, the whole crew let out a cheer. Ol’ Hammerhead turned to see us all floating below and he gave us a salute with a wide grin. Sadly, just as he turned to dive down to the water, the flames reached the powder kegs in the hold below.

The sight was like a volcano spewing up out of the sea. The burst was so bright we had to shield our eyes. Most of the men dove under the surface for safety. By time we came back up, the ship was but a memory. Planks of burning wood were spread out all across the blackened water. Our great captain, Hammerhead Jack, the man who’d spent his life chasing pirates and protecting the innocent was gone.

Mind you, I imagine that’s how he’d have wanted it, waging battle with a villain the likes o’ Black Eyed Bill.”

“Hammerhead died?” some of them asked.

“He never swum back up,” the Commodore answered. “We waited for what seemed an eternity afore swimming ashore. Even once we reached the shore, the whole lot of us sat up all night around a fire, hoping to see Hammerhead crawlin’ up from the surf.”

Percy Johnston came out of the tavern with a pitcher in his hand. He saw the wide-eyed children drinking in the old fool’s tale. He took the mug from the crate and filled it. It was a service he always extended the Commodore, even though he knew the old man had no coins to speak of. Percy would also slip a plate out the backdoor when his wife wasn’t watching. He didn’t believe a word the man said, but he appreciated a good story just the same. It was the most entertainment one could get on the island, and Percy was happy to pay for it in his own way.

“Oh Commodore,” he said, setting the mug down again. “There wasn’t any Hammerhead Jack. Don’t lead these children on that way. Hammerhead Jack is just a myth they used to tell us about when I was a boy myself.”
Percy shook his head and chuckled then walked back into the tavern.

“Don’t be paying attention to what that man said,” said the Commodore, taking a sip from the cup. White foam dripped from his moustache and he set it back down.
“Hammerhead Jack was no myth. He was a man, like you and me. And he was a hero. The bravest, most upright man I ever knew and not even I knew his real name or what he looked like behind that blue mask over his eyes.”

The Commodore took another drink and scanned the horizon. He squinted in the sunlight as a black smudge crept across the horizon. It was a ship. A dark ship from what he could see with no flag of any country flying above her sails.

“Aye children,” he said. “I’d give my other leg to have a man like Hammerhead Jack here in Port Ignatius again.”

To Be Continued . . .

B.Scott 11.10.09