Okay, I know that the premise of this blog is that my sister Lindy and I grew up “Far From Normal” and that we will be sharing lots of strange memories of our growing up years. I am now (perhaps just for today, but probably for a bit longer) going to write about some contemporary events. If you like it, that’s fine. If you don’t, please let me know in the comments section. Anyway, John and I were recently invited to a niece’s wedding. The wedding was being held in Walt Disney World and since I love Mickey, Minnie and the crew, I was very excited. John reserved a room in the same resort area as his numerous other relatives, and I thought
As long as it’s on the property, we’re fine.
That was before last weekend, when one of John’s sisters said:
I can’t find our resort on the Disney map. It must be very remote.
Little alarm bells began to ring in my head and I couldn’t wait to get home and check my Walt Disney World book. Sure enough, I opened the book to our shall-be-nameless resort and this is what I read:
If you have saved for a nice vacation at Disney World and you are booked into this resort, please save a bit more money and make reservations at one of the other resorts.
Now I was worried. Luckily I was spending the day today with Kelly (one of my best friends) and I couldn’t wait to tell her all about it.
What did you say the name of that resort was?
she asked as she began turning on her phone. I told her and a minute later something came up. A few seconds later and hysterical laughter filled my car.
Take a look at this,
she exclaimed, showing me her screen. There in all its splendor was a three tone, three story tacky hotel. It had two giant boots out in front and a giant guitar on the side and a giant bongo drum in the middle. It was what my stepmother Beatrice used to call an “Arabian whore house.” I never knew exactly what she meant by this expression, but looking at the picture of our so-called resort, I think I understood it perfectly. Next Kelly said we should examine the rooms. Well, they were more cause for merriment. First the rooms were exceedingly small and had bedspreads covered with Mickey and Minnie.
Take your own bedspread.
Kelly helpfully suggested.
Maybe you should take sheets too. Those look like little kids have been wetting on them.
she helpfully offered. I had mentioned that these so called resorts also had no restaurant and so Kelly pulled up a picture of their “Food Court.” Talk about depressing. The booths looked like they had been created during the Eisenhower administration. The reviews I read mentioned loud noise, damp rooms and a lack of hygiene. My trip is in two weeks and I will keep you posted. Please wish me luck!