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Our trip to Disney World? Not fun.

In fact, it was so not fun as to be almost comical.

Almost.

Like when we asked the concierge for the closest place to grab a quick dinner, and she somehow misunderstood us, thinking instead that we asked her to point us to the furthest away restaurant with the longest possible wait.

Or like when we checked into our Disney hotel room (which took over an hour, since "the computers are down . . . but, like, have a magical evening!"), and found that our room was approximately five bazillion miles away from the parking lot. This turned out to be a problem, since we had to haul all of our luggage, a cooler, Sam and a 60-pound portable crib there. Up to the second floor. Without an elevator. And, when we finally got there, the room had all the charm of a decrepit Motel 6.

“And this is the moderate resort,” I complained to George. “What happens at the so-called value resorts? Does someone slap you every time you leave your room?”

And it got worse. Like when Sam decided that sleep was overrated, and it would be a far better use of his time to scream from dusk until dawn.

(Author’s note to the person staying in the room next to ours: I’m very, very sorry that my toddler’s screams kept you up until three-thirty in the morning. But, really, we were aware of the situation. So hammering on our door didn’t help matters. In fact -- as I’m sure you quickly figured out, what with the increase in the volume of said baby screams -- it actually made things quite a bit worse.)

Or –- on a not completely unrelated note –- when Sam picked up some sort of a bug, causing us to cut our trip short. Not that we were sorry to leave the Animatronics Hell that is Disney by that point.

If anyone ever tells me to “Have a magical day!” again, so help me God, I will kick him or her in the shin.

Posted 07 January 2006 at 05:51 PM