I have friends staying in Orlando, doing something with their own family that I have never done with mine: a week at Disney. Since I have always lived in Florida, with Disney in our backyard, we have always done the 12-hour-Magic-Kingdom-Cram. You get there as early as possible. You strategize about how fast you can run from one part of the park to another and which rides you do when. And you stay until someone is screaming and frothing from the mouth or until the employees are sweeping up behind you. At any rate, the friends I am with know how to work the system. They are all staying together in a house and doing a week of parks together. I am blessed enough to be over here with them for a short 24 hours, hanging out before their festivities begin. This morning, we all took off together toward church. I drove my van, with friends and Snugglemonkey. And we were following the other family members in their van.
Well, there was a little chit here and a little chat there and 1000 millions of cars not headed toward church. And before I knew it, there were two cars between my van and the one I was following. So my buddy located the other van and I cut across two lanes to follow them and take their exit. And off we went. Though the husband figure in the car expressed some discomfort over the road we were on, we kept driving. Because we were following our friends.
We passed the little statue for the Tower of Terror. We had a conversation about Disney changing MGM studios to Hollywood studios. And still, dumb as we all are, we were still thinking that we were on the correct highway and that maybe all of this Disney paraphernalia was due to Disney owning all of Central Florida. But 50 yards from Donald 14, my friend’s phone rang and the voice on the other end said, “Where ARE you?” Yeah, um. Actually, we are about to pay $18 for parking at the Magic Kingdom. I got the pleasure of rolling down my window and saying, “Yes, um. We aren’t actually supposed to be here today.”
“Where’re ya headed, honey?” She asked me. Um, church? Back to I-4, please?
Crazy times. Crazy times. You just can’t be sure that every 2011 Silver Dodge Caravan with a tall driver is the one you are supposed to be following. But if none of that clues you in, and you start seeing hoards of people and the big Epcot ball, you probably are NOT headed to church. Just a thought. One I didn’t really have in time to do us any good.
But the really good news (besides having had a lovely time with my baby daughter and my dear friends) is that I opened a fortune cookie tonight and this was my fortune.
“You will be spending time outdoors, in the mountains, near water.”
That was specific.
And also quite false.
I suppose I could wind up there next Sunday on my way to church…