Day 5 (St. Thomas)

Customs was quick and painless, but our party had the good fortune (and better sense) to arrive early and be among the first in line. It's a good thing we were so pro-active, too, since Customs and Border Patrol was...20...minutes...late...arrgh. In the interim, the big projection screens showed when and where people needed to be for their morning excursions, as well as breakfast locations and opening times (thank you again, Mr. Rasulo!). The FMs were good sports about waiting patiently (really, what was the alternative?), and we laughed at each others' passport photos and immigration stamps until the burly guys with badges arrived.

Back up a sec for a side note: The crew had set up tables with coffee and light pastries in the Preludes snack bar area in front of the theater, thereby avoiding what would have been a bleary-eyed mutiny, led by yours truly. It's bad enough I have to get up at the butt-crack of dawn to get a dismissive wave at my passport from a bored law enforcement officer who was 20 minutes late getting on-board, you don't want to see that situation sans-caffeine, and I think these 500 people behind me are breaking out the pitchforks and torches, soooo...yeah, good move on the part of the crew.

Anyway, we get waved through, and they stamp us with that super-spy invisible handstamp ink. You know, the kind they use at the parks, that never washes off and always shows up under a black light...the kind every guy who's ever been to Vegas secretly prays they aren't using at the club.

So we get our stamps, and head back to our rooms to pack up for the day's excusrion: Buck Island Catamaran and Snorkel Tour. Unlike the rhino riders, almost our entire party is going on this trip, so there's a bit more excitement (and a bit less concern for personal health and safety) than on the previous day.

Buck Island Catamaran (Castaway Girl)

Only $39

Giant Stride or ladder

Turtle

Stingray

Shipwreck

Kids drove the boat. “It's 5 o'clock somewhere,” Alan Jackson and Jimmy Buffett.

There is a place called Hell: In it, you sit on the deck of a gorgeous, amenity-filled cruise ship, with a pleasant staff, great food, and all of your loved ones in one spot. Your best gal is at your side, sunning in a two-piece, the little waiter from the Philippines has just come by with another frosty margarita, while Bob Marley's “Jammin'” plays softly over the PA system... “Hope ya like jammin' too/we jammin'....” A warm breeze starts to roll across the deck, and you begin to drift off beneath the sun, when...“Ladies and Gentlemen, I hope you're enjoying your time at St. Thomas today, because here come the sounds of the Caribbean from our very own NTWINE!” Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?

I'm rocked awake, my eardrums screaming, “Et tu, Brute? Those Offspring concerts in high school weren't enough, now you subject us to this?” Little did I realize my tolerance for music had turned into George Costanza's parents, and retired to Boca....Ronaldo! Another Rum Runner over here! And my kingdom for a set of earplugs!

For some reason people were cheering their performance. This is what kept COPS and Jerry Springer on television for so long.

Wilde and Haines – Josh from America.

“Where are you from, Josh?”

“America.” (this kid's read my playbook...)

Day 6 (At Sea 3)

Palo

Skipped Disney Dreams

Dessert Buffett!

Late night show:

If the evil that men do truly does live after them, NTWINE will be responsible for the end of civilization.

Day 7 (Castaway Cay)

Pictures with Capt. Jack Sparrow

Parasailing CANCELLED

COLD water

snorkeling out

Walk to adult beach (take shoes!)

Lunch at Cookies

Kids built a sand castle

Sand sculpture of the Magic

Can't get autographs? Just give a CM your memorabilia, they'll get it signed by whomever.

Day 8 (Disembark)

As we

“It was real, wasn't it?”

“Yeah, it was...you bet it was.”

Day 4 (St. Maarten)

Rise and shine! That infernal wake-up call is blaring in my ear, and that mouse is yelling something about getting started. Waking up at the butt-crack of dawn every day is how I love to spend MY vacation, let me tell you.

Breakfast and the morning routine go without a hitch, and we wander up on deck to watch the ship pull into the dock. First realization: No tenders! Good, because nothing puts the brakes on a great cruise like having to wait 30 minutes in each direction to get on and off the boat. Kudos, Disney.

I strongly recommend watching the ship pull in; after watching nothing but water for 2.5 days, it's nice to see the houses built on the hillside that you'll never afford (I mean, let's face it: if you're on an all-inclusive cruise put on by Disney, which has to TELL you how much to tip your servers, houses on the beach in St. Maarten are probably out of your price range...just sayin'...). The sunrise over the water was also a treat, and it's just around this time that it hits you: I'm pulling into a foreign country. Buut, it's the Caribbean; do we really NEED to be in “foreigner” mode? You know the one I'm talking about: money belt under the pants, loose-fitting clothing, 3 photocopies of your passport, wallet in the front pocket, and purse across the body (for the ladies). Wellll...yes and no. On the one hand, you ARE in a foreign country, and casual vigilance is the best policy. On the other hand, this island's only industry (the two sides will be emancipated from France and the Netherlands, respectively, by the end of 2007) is tourism, and the locals will do everything they can to ensure you have a safe, enjoyable time, so you and your family will come back and spend more of your hard currency.

Look at it this way: If you don't go looking for trouble, trouble will have a hard time finding you. Remember on Day 1, during the fire drill debacle? Same rule applies; if you get in trouble on a peaceful Caribbean island, you've probably already failed at life. People in this demographic explain why no one has won the grand prize on “Are You Smarter Than a 5^th Grader?”

But back to the story:

Land-Ho! Terra Firma! After two long days on the boat, we're finally back on dry land. We collect in Diversions, and are given a briefing on what will happen after we disembark, and issued our stickers to keep us together as a group. After the usual chaos of getting off the boat (don't cheat using the elevators; people will glare at you). We shuffle down the gangplank, and out into the sun. After stumbling around with our wobbly sea legs, and reacquainting ourselves with the pleasures of a floor that doesn't pitch, roll, or yaw, we noticed noticed another cruise ship across the dock from us: the Norwegian Dawn (ed note: NCL may or may not be the crappy other cruise line to which we compare DCL all the time...maybe). Sitting between the two behemoths, I was able to compare the two. First thing I noticed: crew members were painting the scroll trim on the bow of the Magic. Pan left, and the same area of the boat on the NCL ship, the recess where the anchor resides, a stream of corrosion runs down to the waterline. There was a cheesy “smile” painted on the bow of this behemoth, and the corrosion formed a rusty streak, like the ship had eaten too many hot wings, but forgotten to wipe its mouth. “Disney moment” #837. I love this ship.

Ok, so we follow our guide to the bus to the Rhino Riders, load up (the 10 members of the extended fam make up the entire Rhino Rider contingent...good, I have about had my fill of other people at this point).

Thus beings our ride to the other side of the island, where our driver (forgot his name) welcomes us, and begins to give us a brief history of the place we will call home for the next 9 or so hours.

While lending only half an ear to the monologue (Dutch and French sides to the island; only industry is tourism, stuff I already knew, thanks to Wikipedia), I began to notice more substantive details about the area we drove through: First off, it is clear that a majority of the island is quite poor (compared to US standards, and certainly to those of the median Disney cruiser. In fact, one main road on the trip was, as described by our guide, originally a colony for freed Caribbean slaves, and that the area's current population is largely descended directly from them.

Additionally, I noticed that much of the area we went through (after leaving the dock), would probably not be safe to walk through at night. I don't say this disparage the area; quite the contrary! It was refreshing to be removed from the overly-sanitized Disney environment, where everyone can find love and success, as long as they reach for the stars and remember their dreams. The bucket of ice cold reality on this tropical paradise was good, I think.

The second thing I noticed was, I never felt unsafe on the drive. Now, I've been to some rather unpleasant areas, from Southeast DC at night, to well within the West Bank in Palestine, and felt perfectly safe on this trip. So note: Yes, you go through a pretty bad area to get to the Rhino Riders, but your bus is clean, and doesn't stop until you get to the Rider area; you aforementioned hypochondriacs will be just fine.

So, without too much further ado, we arrive at the Rhino Rider area, meet our guide, Arian, and suit up in our life vests; it's time get wet 'n' wild.

Rhino Riders Review:

Ok, so what's a Rhino Rider, and why is it worth $84+tip of my money for each member of my family?

If JetSkis are like dirt bikes on water, these are more like dune buggies; and you better believe it, respectively.

Instead of a handlebar, which turns the nozzle (combined with leaning to turn), these babies have an actual steering wheel, about the size of a small pizza (8” or so). Instead of a thumb-activated throttle, the craft uses an actual lever, again like a full-sized boat.

Picture a two-person “rubber raider,” like the ones used by the Navy SEALs. However, I'd put off any plans to invade the French side of the island (they'd probably surrender, anyway); note that, unlike a JetSki, water depth is a LOT more important, as you're using a big outboard motor, and smashing up the prop could really ruin your day. The guide will be good to keep you far enough out from the shoreline, though.

Also, adherence to the 18+ rule for drivers is not optional. According to the staff, if the harbor patrol catches them out with drivers under 18, the company will be shut down indefinitely, and charged “many thousands” of dollars. Don't try to bribe them, it won't work (not that we, you know, tried it...).

Don't ask. Don't even try to skirt it, because the company has all of your information from the cruise line, and they will double-check before you leave. It doesn't matter. Whatever your question, exception, or plea is, it doesn't matter. Have some sort of man-child 12 year-old with a pituitary problem? “But he's 6'4, 235 and has been scouted by the Green Bay Packers to play tight end!” Doesn't matter. Speaking from experience, they will turn your whole crew back around, and rearrange the seating such that someone 18 or over is driving every Rider. Them's the breaks, kids.

After a short orientation (the staff is fun, and they make plenty of jokes), we were distributed our snorkeling gear, and saddled up.

On the way out of the dock, a member of the staff snapped our pictures (on each Rhino Rider; plan accordingly if you want particular couples together), and then we were off!

Rather than try to explain their performance to you, how about I just show you a video:

Basically, it has all the crash-and-smash into the waves of a JetSki, without ever worrying about tipping over (really, we tried and couldn't); they top out about 40 mph, and are a BLAST.

You do have to stay in a relatively straight line with the guide, but he doesn't hesitate to open up the throttle a bit, once you're out of the dock area. That was nice; what was even nicer was the tour of the harbor, and seeing all of the immense yachts. In another life, remind me to go to business school, and own one of these monstrosities.

So we cruise around the island (due to our delayed arrival, we went to a closer diving area), and arrive at our destination. After enjoying some cold sodas (or water, if you prefer) that Arian brought along, it was into the water! Hmm...a little chilly, but beautiful and clear. Our alternate snorkeling site was great; just off a rocky outcropping on the south side of the island, where a lot of old concrete and iron pylons had retreated beneath the water; this made for great coral and sediment growth, home to hundreds of brightly-colored fish. Sweeeet.

After 40 minutes or so of snorkeling, Arian asked us if we were ready to return; we saddled up, and headed back in. On the ride back, we were encouraged to “go faster!” and took a side trip in the harbor, past the, um “European” beaches. What a beautiful island. Even if it is French.

Upon our return to the dock, we were offered more free sodas, rinsed off our snorkel gear, and are shown the pictures they took at the beginning of the adventure. We bought ours.

End of Review

After drying up, it's back to the boat for lunch at Topsiders, just me She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed.

Over lunch, we discuss the possibility of going on the 15-day transition cruise through the Panama Canal from Florida to Los Angeles. She was, at first, reluctant. But now we're sitting here in this tropical paradise, eating great food (from a buffet, even!), having just had a wet and wild snorkel trip in crystal-clear water, and did I mention it was 5 degrees, with 40mph wind back home today? So, let's chat...

After days of subtle, not-so-subtle, and clumsily-overt overtures and lobbying on the part of the fam, She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and I sat down, and hammered out the pros and cons of this adventure.

The scorecard looked something like this:

Pros:

2 weeks during a great season for travel.

Fewer other travelers, as most teens and other annoying kids are still in school.

It's the Panama Canal.

It's the Disney Cruise going through it.

Cons:

There aren't any. After pricing the trip with the lady at the desk, it would only be about $1,000 more than the cruise we're on right now.

Needless to say, she broke down. They should send me to broker Middle East peace; not to toot my own horn, but after I'm done, the only thing they'll have to argue about is Miller Lite (“Great taste!” “Less filling!”). I'm just that good.

Without further explanation, this is going to be us next year:

Nuff said.

We spent the rest of the day hitting up the Rainforest, jewelery shopping in the area immediately off the dock.

A note on this: they do have good deals on real jewelry; don't be put off by suspicions regarding quality. All of the places in the immediate area of the ship are legit, and several FMs purchased very nice jewelry there. I can't speak to any other places on the island, though.

Fast forward to dinner: It's pirate night at Animator's Palate, so beef tenderloin and all the desserts are on tap. I don't remember what all else, but it was a gluttonous feast, to be sure.

Moreover, I went all out: I didn't just have a hat, no, I had the most ridiculous hat conceivable: a massive two-corner affair that says “Dead Men Tell No Tales” when you push the button on the side. It was absurd, it was enormous, it was awesome. Why not go all-out.

After dinner, it was up to the top deck for star-gazing and the Pirates IN the Caribbean Show.

Pirates in the Caribbean Show Review:

Alright, we watched the one last time, and it was ok. We were plenty tired, so we didn't really pay attention to event, but we were determined to stay up for the buffet this time...that was the most important part!

So I grab a Rum Runner (they never get old), and listen to the REALLY LOUD MUSIC THAT DOESN'T STOP, but do grab a great seat. I'm sorry, but there isn't much funnier than watching a 50 year old dad dancing to “Under the Sea” with his kids. The guy you TOTALLY saw swearing at the TV screen during the NFC Championship Game enough to make a sailor blush. Yeah, NOW he's Mr. Responsible Dad. Awesome.

The midnight buffet? Wow. You know, because I'd gone a whole 20 minutes without eating, and, well, the cherry cheesecake looks incredible.

We trundle off to bed before too long; we've got another morning excursion, so once again I'm asleep before the lights are off. When was it I was supposed to relax, again?

Day 3 (At Sea 2)

I'd love to tell you all about the non-stop action of day 3, but really, days at sea are wonderful precisely for their glorious lack of activity. For those of us who hail from major metropolitan areas, how many opportunities do you have to read an entire issue of Vanity Fair end-to-end? (did I really write that? I said ESPN The Magazine, yeah that's it..*grunt grunt*...excuse me while I go blow something up). Days at sea help one to discover the Joys of Irresponsibility; on any other day, “doing nothing” reminds you of your unemployed cousin Larry.

But back to the day at hand: we have no plans in the morning, so I sleep in until about 9, and hit the gym (again, have to maintain that girlish figure).

So circa 9am, I roll (quite literally) out of bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping lioness, lest I lose a lime, or worse. Dress quietly, and head over to the Promised Land. 30 hard minutes on the elliptical, and a circuit of chest-arms-abs, and I've likely sweat off the crème brule from last night...likely. Again, I can't compliment DCL enough for expanding the workout area; watching the water fly past while on the machines really is a treat, and all the better to help your workout.

The rest of the day was spent in uneventful bliss. I can't even remember where we had lunch; want to say it was Topsiders. That reminds me, a word about this buffet: Big ups to Disney for the “Kids” and “Adults” lines at breakfast and lunch. It cuts both ways: I don't want to listen to your knee-high screaming about fish sticks, and he sure as heck doesn't want any prime rib with horseradish. Small things like this keep me happy. Now get out of the way, they just brought more sushi.

The afternoon was spent in the adult pool area, where She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and I shared one of the two-person lounge chairs (another incredible invention), and a few drinks-of-the-day...something red with fruit in it, that I wouldn't be caught dead drinking on any other occasion. I was able to catch up on the aforementioned reading, and we stayed out of the sun in anticipation of the next two days of snorkeling. Our long serenity was only interrupted once, when the staff decided it'd be a good idea to break the tranquility with a “jump in the pool and be ridiculous while wrestling an inflatable alligator to win cheap trinkets” contest. I was not amused. Fortunately for my sanity and the well-being of the participants, it was time to change for our early-seating dinner.

Dinner was at Lumiere's. Let me digress to say that I like Lumiere's more than Triton's, for reasons I can't describe; it just “feels” like a classier place, and the food is always good. I don't remember what I had this night...probably lamb.

Twice Charmed Review

The show this evening was Twice Charmed, a second look at the Cinderella story. Again, I hold most of my DCL entertainment to the standard of the Hercules show on the 4-night, so the bar is high. That being said, I found this one to be pretty good. Better than Golden Mickeys, but not on the scale of the aforementioned show.

I'm a bit of a sucker for true Broadway-esque performances, and this one had some good numbers. I was especially a fan of Franco the evil fairy godfather. Clever. Not exactly George-Burns-in-Oh-God, but good enough for me.

Late Night Show: Jimmy Tamley

Ok, so back to the room to change for the late show, and She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed was too tired. Wuss. I show up, and of course, NTWINE is the opening act. There isn't enough Bombay Sapphire in the world...well, maybe there is. College wasn't that long ago, if “Drink till she's pretty” worked then, maybe “drink till they don't suck” will now. Nope, now I'm just buzzing in front of my aunts and uncles, AND having to listen to this crap. Oh well. After too many 80s songs from NTWINE, and not nearly enough drinks-of-the-day to compensate, it was time for the main event.

Tamley was great; he reintroduced to his “granddad,” an irreverent dirty old man, who spent more time talking about his misadventures in pursuit of young ladies, than imparting any sage knowledge. Don't get me wrong, the routine was hilarious, but it's just a little hard to listen to jokes about him chasing skirts all week in front of your grandparents. That's a bit of mutually-assured destruction: They don't want to ruin their mental image of you as the goody-two-shoes grandchild, and you sure as hell don't want to envision a world in which they would “get” poop, fart, and sex jokes. Just smile, laugh, and bring me another Amaretto Sour.

Beyond that, though, I give the performer a good deal of credit; he had great recovery on several occasions when the puppets broke, most notably his closing bit, with a British boxer. Halfway through, the string supporting his arm opposite the performer broke. Tamley didn't miss a beat, with the puppet mocking him all the way. I wouldn't want to spoil it (code for: It was a month ago and I don't remember), but the recovery was priceless.

On the way out, we hit the midnight buffet again, and I picked up a few munchies for the sleeping bear back in the room. Since this was a day of light activity, I actually stay up for a while, watching some of the channels (the bow camera channel at night is the best; I hear it has twice the ratings as According to Jim...)

Tomorrow is a big day of Rhino Riding, and our first snorkeling adventure, so it's lights out soon enough. Gnight!

Next up: Day 4 (St. Maarten)

Day 2 (At Sea 1)

6:30 AM, once again I'm ripped out of a deep slumber by Medusa's shriek. No, it isn't that giant purple gorilla that was trying to eat me in my dream...no, it's just the phone's ring...phone...next to the bed...room's dark, why? Dark, inside....inside a room...on a ship....on the Disney Cruise, ok...where's the phone? By the night stand...OW that's an elbow in my ribs, ok ok I'm up...“We sure are glad you're here, heh-huh! There's plenty to do, so let's get started!” There are certain aspects of the Disney cruise I don't tell my guy friends about; the wake up call is one of them.

I roll out of bed, and right on schedule, the continental breakfast (from the door hanger I placed outside the night before) arrives. Coffee...must have coffee. We scarf down our simple breakfast of fruit and English muffins, then it's off to Vista Spa for our 8am massage. There isn't much to relay about this; it was largely the same as the one given on the 4-night. Rae and Claudia, the masseuses, took good care of us, and weren't too pushy in the sales pitch at the end. Not bad at all, and a great way to start my vacation.

Afterwards, it's back to the room to shower and change for Palo brunch. When all of our party finally arrives, we are seated and introduced to Carmen from Romania. Here's a question: Why are all the Palo waitresses from Romania? The one we had on the 4-night, and Corina, our Palo waitress-to-be on Thursday night, would turn out to be Romanian as well. Weird.

Ok, so we did the brunch last cruise, and it didn't disappoint this time, either. My first impression is the Food, Jerry, food! The specialty on this occasion was seafood, with plenty of shrimp, salmon, oysters and other assorted yummies. My favorites included the hummus and the garlic-flavored mushy cheese. She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and I split one of the sausage pizzas. Overrated, sorry. It was good, yes, but no different from your average fire-baked pizza from Cosi. Carmen recommended a cranberry champagne that was perfect; not too sweet, and complemented all of the cheese and light meats in the meal. Yum.

After a few-too-many trips to the buffet (we skipped entrees; there was too much good stuff on the tables), including some German dish that featured a marble-swirled bread, strawberry jam and whipped cream (again, greater than the sum of its parts), it's time for the dessert table. True to form, we take roughly one of everything. Highlights included a chocolate crème brule, and something in a slender glass with amaretto and/or rum in it. Excellent.

Alright enough about the food, somebody whistle for the Oompa-Loompas, because this kid is getting rolled home like Violet. We take a few laps around the deck just to get a look-see at the ocean around us, then it was back to the room to change into swimsuits for suntanning.

Thanks to online research, we learned about the secret sunning area on deck 7 aft, so that was our next destination. On the way, I saw several festively decorated doors (yes, you people are insane). Notable ones: “Two Cool Grandma's live here,” (complete with superfluous apostrophe); and of course, the “Welcome Home” magnet for the suckers who threw their money awa...er, DVC members (our Castaway Club magnet was the only way I could remember which room was ours).

So we shoot back to the super-secret sun deck, and the first thing I notice (other than the wind..wow, gale-force) is...what's that sound? Oh yeah, quiet. No screaming children. No ridiculous Caribbean music (it has its place, I'll grant). Nothing but the soft chopping of the ship in the wake, and the warm wind across my face. Yeah, I could live like this for a few years. Only disadvantage: you can't hear the announcements on the PA system...probably just as well, though; I didn't need any more Ch-r-r-r-istian in my life.

After a solid 30-40 minutes of peace and quiet, it was time to change and head to Diversions for the NFC Championship game.

I got there about 15 minutes before kickoff, and couple of FMs had saved excellent seats for the other members of the grunting class. First off, the Brewmaster on this cruise was great; very laid back, normal-looking guy, who handed out “bad call balls” (ping pong balls with “bad call” written on them in Magic Marker), and patrons were encouraged to throw them at the projection screen after the zebras showed a lack in judgment. I forgot his name, but he was a definite improvement over the juiced-up 'roid monkey who called himself Brewmaster on the 4-night Wonder.

That time, I had the audacity to mention that Michael Vick was, well, a pretty bad quarterback, and promptly received an earful on the matter. I can understand the confusion: apparently, I watch football, and he, uh, doesn't.

Anyway, the guy on this cruise was great; he was prompt to send the waiters over to take our orders, and mostly left us alone. We grabbed some great seats in the front, and settled in for some gridiron (Rich Pupura, the magician from the night before, sat in our row and made good conversation...even if he was a Bears fan). Halfway through the first quarter, I ordered two glasses of Johnny Walker Blue for me and P2, and we sipped our liquid silk while watching the football follies. Quality male bonding.

I can't remember when we threw our bad call balls – either the Colston non-fumble (his knee was down) or the Brees non-interception (tuck rule, anyone?). Both calls were pretty horrible; all I remember is I waited for the ref's face to be on the screen before it was bombs away. The quarter ended on whichever play, and we filed out at the whistle to wedge into our penguin suits.

Tonight was formal night at Parrot Cay, and we were dressed to impress...call it the prom we never had together. Anyway, the food was wonderful, and even Glendine and Mikey were dressed to the nines. After dinner (either lamb or filet, I can't remember which), we got some great pictures of the two of us, as well as one with me, She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and my immediate family. This was important, as the formal night picture from the 4-night was slightly disappointing; the photographer thought it'd be a good idea to allow the moon on the backdrop to line up juuust right, such that it looks like I'm wearing a yarmulke in the photo. Thanks, man.

We have enough time to take a casual stroll around Deck 4 (my favorite thing to do on the boat, other than the Rainforest, I've decided), lounge on the padded chaises for a bit, then change into casual clothes for the Golden Mickeys. I had already seen the production on the 4-night, so while I wasn't ecstatic about the prospect, I knew what I was getting into.

Golden Mickeys Review:

I don't really have much to report about it, except that I remember two moments of clarity during and immediately after the show:

First, you know the short clip where the actor with the conveniently androgynous name interacts with the video-taped image of Roy E. Disney? Well, what happens when Roy E. kicks the bucket? Do they scrap the show entirely? Do they re-film it with Iger or Eisner instead? Or do they morbidly keep it going, pretending he's still alive like they do with Kim Il Sung in North Korea? And, honestly, would you know the difference if they did?

Speaking of Roy E., how come he gets to be famous for something his dad and uncle did? I know, I know, he's “head of animation,” or whatever. But what makes you think he'd automatically learn the talent from his relative? Hasn't the Eli Manning Experiment shown us that talent and ability are in no way genetic? Is Roy E. Disney the Paris Hilton of my parents' generation (without the home videos and illegal drug use)? To borrow George Carlin: Thoughts like these kept me out of the really good schools.

Second thought: They have the Golden Mickey statues for sale in the higher-end shop (Treasure Ketch...how cheesily funny) But seriously, I have to ask: Who'd buy a Golden Mickey Statue? For $30.00? Really? Can I interest you in, say, the Rainforest 7-day pass for $15 more? I promise you'll get more out of it, and you'll get fewer surprised stares from the woman at the checkout counter. You see, it's nice and all, but that 30 bucks could feed her entire village in Romania for a week, and you're blowing it on a pretty lame statue from an even more lame stage production on a cruise boat...I'm just sayin'.

Ok, so the Golden Mickeys are a wrap, and most parents are carting their bleary-eyed kids off to bed. Good, I'm pumped and full of energy after our relaxing afternoon and morning massage, so She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and I saunter down toward Rockin' Bar D for the Golden Mickeys After-Party with Rich Pupura (the magician from the first night). We figured we had some time to kill, could duck in for the end of the AFC Championship game, and even if it was full, we could drink another Drink-of-the-Day and watch the pre-show. Well, therein, as the Bard will tell us, lies the rub.

The band NTWINE was the opening show, as they would be for the rest of the cruise...a 6-person band featuring one male and two female singers, a drummer, a guitarist, and a keyboardist. They would become the insufferable, festering boil in my vacation; remember that scene in Terminator, when the robot has its legs blown off, and still it keeps coming? Yeah, that's NTWINE. P2 surmised that he'd seen a similar band on Hill 55 back in Vietnam...in fact, says he, it's probably the same band. Really, they're just a classic example of people who try too hard. Both female singers were talented enough (the guy made William Hung look like Liberace), but the volume...oh, the horror. Apparently, the key to masking a band's obvious lack of talent is to TURN UP THE VOLUME ALL THE WAY. Apparently, this makes your band better...at least, that was NTWINE's theory.

They couldn't get off the stage fast enough, and here comes Rich Pupura. Two words to describe his act: freakin' hilarious. He pokes fun at the audience members, performs some pretty entertaining magic tricks (the animal crackers bit was classic), and introduces me to, really the oft-repeated funniest line on the cruise: “Oh, please, if I was any good I'd be on land.” Almost all of the comedians said it, and it never stopped being hilarious.

After this show, we hit the midnight buffet just outside Rockin' Bar D (as if we hadn't already eaten enough so far), and it's off to bed. I plan to get up in the morning to hit the gym, since at this point I'm averaging 2.5 desserts per meal, and really need to maintain my girlish figure. This time we get a towelgami in the shape of a peacock (or turkey, depending on whom you ask), made of the towel and blanket. For the third time, I'm out as soon as the lights are. Gnight.

Next up: Day 3 (At Sea 2); won't be nearly as long as this entry.

Day 1 (All Aboard!)

After too-few hours, it's rise-and-shine time, as I'm ripped unceremoniously into the re-birth of waking from a deep slumber via wake-up call: Cold, bright, loud and otherwise undesirable. I forgot to mention in the last entry that we had a message waiting for us on the hotel phone from the Cruiseline representative upon our arrival. It mentioned that we should assemble no later than 12:00pm, and that our bags, with luggage tags, should be packed and by the door no later than 9am (for pickup between 9 and 11). We comply, rising early, packing, and dressing; then it's back to OPR for breakfast from the food court (an ok selection; Disney food courts don't try to be anything they aren't, so it's easy satisfaction), plus any last-minute items from the gift shops and Pirates of the Caribbean display stand (more on this later).

We had some time to kill, so after breakfast everyone assembles outside at the main swimming pool for a group photo. So after organizing all 15 people on the Caribbean fort facade over the pool, and bribing some random sucker to take the same picture with 5 digital cameras (because we couldn't just, I don't know, take one picture and then post it to ophoto, no that'd be too easy...), we say “cheese” and head over to Shutters to wait for the bus.

Again, the only communication we've had from the Cruise Line since arrival is to meet at the entrance to Shutters at 10-until-noon. Fine, no problem. So we're milling around outside the OPR building, thinking “this is Disney...they wouldn't screw this up.” WRONG.

After standing outside the back entrance with 100 or so of our closest cruising friends, all of whom are nervously glancing at their watches and casting the aforementioned “luggage look” for about 20 minutes, someone with actual assertion walks up to the DCL rep at the Shutters host desk and asks what's what. Only AFTER this has occurred do the various employees assembled there say “oooh...yeah.” So we are all called back inside Shutters, and asked, not to line up in a logical manner, but rather in a long, curving line, without a whole lot of direction, so we can be handed a laminated card and asked to sign a waiver assuring we don't currently have the flu. Only after this uncontrolled chaos (if we hadn't been the first in line, we would've waited at least 30 minutes more) were we led, rather haphazardly, out the door to the bus. All told, we (that is, all CBR occupants going on this particular cruise) spent upwards of an hour milling around, waiting to be told where to go, with no one seeming to know the answer (I probably didn't relay this part of the story very well, but I tired of writing about it...more important and fun things to address!).

This is probably my biggest complaint of the trip. I am a pretty low-maintenance guy, and the same is doubly true of She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and the rest of our party, for that matter. But even I found this a bit unacceptable and very un-Disney. Walt himself came up with the turnstile-to-turnstile “complete experience,” and EVP Jay Rasulo has done as good a job as any in fostering this even more. Say what you will about Eisner: he never forgot the bread-and-butter of Disney was and is the parks (well, and DVD sales)...for a really great (and clear-eyed) view of Eisner's business theories (and foibles) and their consequences, read Disney War by James B. Stewart. If you're ready to see past the magic and veneer to understand HOW and WHY the Disney company has and continues to operate the way it does, I can't advocate this book enough.

That being said, this was a bush-league operation, and my entire party made this known via the comment cards at the end of the cruise. Nevertheless, those same Cruise Line reps had bongo drums and a limbo pole in front of the doors leading to the bus; as I passed underneath, my life was once again zen. Because, honestly, if this was the most disorganized I felt on this trip, I'd be ahead of the game (it was).

By 1pm, we're on the bus. The ride to the port from CBR was long, but enjoyable. The on-board video describing the cruise amenities was short and sweet, and most members of our party were DCL vets anyway, so I mostly ignored it and looked out the window at the clear skies. The bus driver was a central Florida native, and went out of his way to point out sights along the way, such as the northern tip of the Everglades and the Kennedy Space Center (there wasn't a shuttle on the pad).

But enough foreplay: we crest the last bridge, and...there it is! Those beautiful red smoke stacks, that sweeping, early 20^th century livery, we're finally here! Goofy painting the stern was a neat touch, and varied from Donald on the Wonder (though I missed Huey, Duey and Luey cutting the rope).

So after a pretty cheesy welcome to the terminal by a Cast Member, we shuffled off the bus and into the terminal. Through security and up the Happiest Escalator On Earth to the check in line.

Check in note number...whichever: Being a Castaway Club member has great perks. Not only were the two of us and the rest of the FMs from the last cruise able to skip the long line and walk right up the counter, but they let the other 10 non-Castaway Club members walk up with us! Note to those traveling similarly: Just tell the person manning the queue that your group is thusly separated, and they'll happily let your whole group check in at once, using the same counter. Saves time, let me tell you.

Being the studious travelers we are, She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and I checked in online before leaving the nation's capital. All we had to do was present our passports and signed contracts, and receive our Key to the World (KTTW) cards. Speaking of these: They might actually complete the “escape” of the Disney cruise. Not only are you treated like royalty for a comparatively low price; not only are you shown the glossy-tourist veneer of tropical paradises; no, no, now we're going to convince you to spend many hundreds of dollars you'd never spend normally, just by waving your card, telling us your room number and signing a piece of paper. Maybe there IS a reason they shuffle you off so fast after giving you your bill...hmm.

Ok, so we're checked in; P2 is busy signing up the kidlets for their activities (glad this was moved into the terminal; it takes away the mad house on the 4^th floor, or wherever the Oceaneer's Lab is, that builds while people are still a.) trying to take in the grandeur of the atrium and Lumiere's, and b.) trying to find my freakin' room, so get outta the way!), so She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and I make our way down the gangplank with a promise to meet the rest of our party at dinner (we decided to skip the welcome-aboard picture). We have the early seating, so that will give us enough time to sign up for our spa treatments, collect our bags, and otherwise settle in.

Being the vets that we are, we know why we paid to get into this joint: we make a beeline for the Spa on the 9^th floor, anxious to schedule our couple's massage (we didn't sign up for it earlier, as it was a decision made on the bus). We'd had the couple's massage before, and enjoyed it, so why not? But first on the list was acquiring a 7-day pass for the Rainforest.

Now, let me tell you a bit about this little yellow sticker of heaven: for about $15/day ($75/person for the entire cruise), you get full rights to the tropical rainforest: 3 saunas, a scented shower, 2 “rainforest” showers (with jets on the sides), and heated tile recliners. Talk about being more than the sum of your parts! I'm no metrosexual, but this thing is great. I can't decide if it's because it's one of the few places where you can just get away from all the screaming children and adults who smoke, or just the general relaxation it affords, but the two of us definitely made good use of what the Rainforest had to offer. At the very least, it is nice to get all the saltwater off your body, and sweat out the rest, after a long day of excursion-ing. I give it my strongest recommendation for on-board activities.

Ok, so we sign up for that, schedule our massage for the only remaining time slot, the next morning at 8am (oh well, it'll set a nice tone for the trip), then pretend to pay attention to the “tour” of the rest of the Vista Spa. First thing I noticed was the expanded workout room. Very nice touch, and I especially appreciate the added cardio machines. I remember being rather disappointed by the workout facilities on the 4-night (not that I had anywhere near the time or energy to use it), and was glad to see this as part of the retrofitting that took place in 05. Second item of note was the addition of the Villas. VERY nice. From what I recall in the sell, er, I mean “tour,” you (The couple) spend up to 2 hours being treated in this villa. It includes a couples' massage table, jacuzzi, and heavily padded chaise lounges. Yeah, we're definitely signing up for this on the 08 cruise.

Ok, Spa treatments scheduled, it's time to check out our stateroom. A word on the staterooms: I've been on...another cruise line, and I still have claustrophobic nightmares of 3 people crammed into an area roughly the size of the interior of a 1980's Crown Victoria, so to say I was impressed with the size on the 4-night would be an understatement.

Now that the “wow” factor had been buffed a bit, I knew what to expect: WRONG. We had one of only a handful of horizontal interior staterooms. Let me say: if you're planning on scheduling an interior stateroom anyway, I can't recommend the horizontal (only on deck 6, I believe) enough. Instead of having to shuffle awkwardly past the bathroom and closet to get to the living area, the door opens at around the middle of the room, with the bed and steamer trunk to the right, the couch and coffee table in front, and the bathroom and closet to the left. Much more logical layout, and much, much easier to get around. Really makes the room more inviting and “feel” bigger. You bet your a** we got this for 2008.

As we start to settle in, our stateroom hostess, Sarah, arrives with the first of the bags. The 4-night was so high-octane and whirlwind that I never even met our hostess, so it was nice to have the time to say hello. P1, P2, and most of the rest of the FMs were in rooms directly across from us, so we all had the pleasure of Sarah's hospitality. She even took the time to drop off my tux for formal night, and stick around to make sure all the pieces were there. First thing was first, though: I immediately unpacked all of my formal clothes (suit, blazer, dress shirts, slacks, even one of my nicer Hawaiian types) off to be pressed; needed the blazer especially for Palo brunch the next morning, so I had that, a pair of slacks, and one of the dress shirts for “express” (3 hrs), and the rest for the regular schedule (next-day by 5 pm). Even with the Express service on the 3 pieces, the whole bill was under $20. Some might balk at that rate, but it's about (or even less) than what you'll fork out in any major US city, and totally worth looking good each night for a week.

By this time, we're within 10 minutes of the lifeboat drill, so we head over to our staging area for that. I'll spare you, loyal readers, the details of this boring but necessary exercise, except to say this:

Look, I know we're all on vacation. I know you brought all 15 of your ugly children with you, and they're difficult to wrangle. I know you want to see all of the ship, because this is the first time you've been on it, and oooh it's so amazing. I get all of that, really, I do. But when 18 different staff members, 3 public-address announcements in advance, a really loud freakin' horn, and 2 friendly reminders afterward, tell you when and where you need to be before we can conclude the drill, maybe, just maybe, could you MOVE YOUR BUTT TO THE DAMN RALLY POINT? I mean, seriously. It's not rocket science, and it's really the only time the entire week where you'll be “required” to do anything. Moreover, you'll have about 7 whole days to take everything in, and I promise the décor won't go anywhere. Also, I'm going to let you in on a little secret: If your family is “the family” being paged over the loudspeaker after everyone has been shuffling around uncomfortably in their decidedly un-Louis Vitton lifejackets for 40 minutes, YOU HAVE FAILED AS A HUMAN BEING AND A PARENT, and should probably be thrown overboard for good measure. This concludes our public service announcement, much like how our lifeboat drill ended.

So after unpacking, hanging up, packing clothes away in drawers, putting all 53 gallons of lotion, shower gel, hair products and makeup (and whatever the hell else she brought in that checked bag o' liquids...seriously, did cavewomen need 5 different types of sunscreen and 13 types of moisturizer?), we put on our first “cruise casual” clothes of the trip, and head up on deck for the sail-away party. We'd missed it last time, because we'd been 30 minutes into our couple's massage (again, great way to start a long vacation), and were anxious to see (and hear) the departure. Needless to say, a beautiful sunset while sipping the drink of the day (Rum Runner, I think...after the first one or two, does the name really matter?), and hearing “When You Wish Upon A Star” was a great way to start my vacation. We even snapped some good “couple” pictures with our hair blowing in the wind. Nice.

Also a side note about the whistle: In St. Thomas, we were told that ever time the Disney ships blow the whistle in a US port, the company is fined $10,000. Apparently, Coast Guard regulations insist on the 3 long blasts only. Talk about a great investment; that $10,000 is quickly recouped, when “Hey mom, how come our Carnival boat doesn't have a cool whistle like that?” Guess where your family is going next summer...?

As I mentioned, we had the early seating, so it's just about time for the first dinner at Animator's Palate (APL seating order is the only way to fly). We were seated, and introduced to that starlet of the 7^th Sea, that incorrigible flirt, Glendine from Trinidad and Tobago. She, and her assistant Mikey from the Philippines, would be the enablers of our gluttony for the next 7 nights; it would be a tough row to hoe, but they seemed up to the task.

A side note: Mikey quickly became my best friend on the cruise (sorry, honey!); he usually had my Sapphire and tonic waiting for me when I sat down, and was always ready to suggest just the right wine to go with whatever recently-mooing animal would soon comprise my dinner. If I could get this guy to sit with me in my cubicle, he'd sure help the work week fly.

After getting properly acquainted with our servers, we unleashed the floodgates of caloric delight. Ok, before I get too carried away, let me straighten something out (after having been on both of the “main attraction” cruises DCL has to offer): The food is good. It's not bad, by any means, and it's certainly better quality than most of us mortals eat during the regular work-week, but it is about on-par with an average dinner in a major metropolitan restaurant. On at least 3 occasions, my filet or steak was over-done, for example. Also, we peeked into the window of one of the kitchens during a late-night walk, and saw the assembly line of menu items waiting to go out like the slaves into the jaws of Moloch. Again, before I get sent any hate-mail, the food is good, and is probably better than that of most other cruise lines (and beats the pants of off the average Disneyland/World meal), but let's not make it any more than it is.

Also a note about Animator's: The changing of the room is VERY impressive the first time you see it (if not surprising, because all of the literature tells you about it beforehand), but after that, it's sort of, well...cheesy. Like after you ride Space Mountain or the Matterhorn that 3,000^th time, and notice, hey, isn't that a hydraulic actuator underneath the abominable Snowman's knee? And...heeey, wait one minute, we couldn't POSSIBLY have gone all the way to Mars in only 3 minutes (a bit of a throwback for you older Disneyland patrons). Anyway, the newbies were impressed, so I can't complain.

That being said, I believe I had some manner of steak (it's all a gluttonous, hedonistic food blur at this point), and it was indeed delicious. The notable point of this meal, though, was dessert. After toasting the presence of so many family members in one place for one joyous occasion (yadda yadda), it's time for the sweet stuff. The only problem was deciding which we wanted...so being the health-conscious, restrained eaters we are, She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and I ordered...all of them. No, seriously, we did this every night. Now, we didn't eat every bite of every dish (which is why I'm still alive to write this), but we simply had to try them all, and offer our reviews for posterity. Of course, we don't remember all the dishes, but there you have it. Every night, Glendine would know she'd be placing 4 plates in front of us for the dessert course; kept life simple that way.

First overall reaction to the early seating (we had the later one on the 4-night): Definitely preferable for those who want to partake in the later activities on the boat. I'd been warned that our screaming-children exposure level (something I try to reduce or eliminate in my life) would be appreciably higher with the earlier seating, but I didn't notice. The benefit, though, is that you can go straight from dinner to the show (We're slow, talkative eaters), you don't have the 4 o'clock hungries (because dinner is only an hour away), and you are hungry again when the midnight buffet lines up, so it's actually worth doing. Overall, the early seating is preferable to the later, in my view.

Speaking of shows: tonight was the All Aboard show. I wasn't sure what to expect, really; we had inconsistent experience on the 4-night. We absolutely loved the Hercules show, an excellent blend of grown-up humor, with enough silliness for the tykes (the guy playing Hades and the girls playing Pain and Panic collectively stole the show). It's exactly what I expected from the entertainment company that made billions of your and my money at the box office in the last 10 years by balancing the fine line of entertaining all ages. The other shows, though, were a little sub-par. The Golden Mickeys were cheesy but fun; but I was pretty disappointed in Disney Dreams (even She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed thought it was lame). The farewell show was ok, but overall we were not totally impressed with the Walt Disney Theater entertainment. Nevertheless, we gave the 7-night the benefit of the doubt, and are glad we did.

Review of the All Aboard Show (I'll break this and the excursions out so you can flip right to them):

This is really divided into two parts: the pre-staged sketch with the “kid” who wants to be captain, joined by his stereotypical Middle-American family, and is taught never to give up on his dreams, blah blah, yeah this is great, bring me another Jack and Coke.

The second portion is a preview of the live entertainment for the rest of the time at sea (they change out once you hit St. Maarten): This was great. First, we were introduced to our Cruise Director, Christian. Ok, buddy: You...try...too...hard. I get that his job is to keep everyone excited, especially the kids. I understand that, and he did a good job at exactly that. However, the next time that I have to hear it's a “B-e-e-e-utiful day,” all I'll think of is that P-u-u-u-utz Christian.

Soon enough, though, he introduced the first act, magician Rich Pupura. He's great, makes plenty of self-deprecating jokes (my favorite kind) about his weight, does a neat trick using some pint-sized volunteers from the audience (though the kids mess it up and blow the secret at the end), and otherwise impresses. I made a mental note to see his late-night adults' show the next evening.

Next up was Jimmy Tamley, the British ventriloquist. Very entertaining guy, though the bit with his “granddad” ran a bit long. Decided then that I'd go see his late-night show, as well. I'm under the impression that both he and Pupura did family shows earlier in the day, each day, but I didn't care enough to pay attention.

So that was about all of the show: a good overview of what to expect during the two days at sea.

Overall rating: 8 out of 10.

By this time, everyone in our party is pretty tired. I don't even think the crew planned any meaningful late-night activities, but either way it was off to bed for me and She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed; we had our massage at 8am, and Palo brunch at 11 for the entire over-18 contingent of our party.

We arrive in the room, to see that Sarah the Bedmaking Ninja has turned down our sheets, left the appropriate chocolates and placard reminding us to turn our clocks forward 1 hour (and 3 messages on our phone from Palo, Vista Spa, and Ch-r-r-r-r-istian, respectively), and adorned our bed with a towelgami creature in the shape of a dog. She's even placed She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed's Minnie Ears headband and my sunglasses on to round it out. All together now: Awwww...

Yeah, that's great. Reset the alarm clock we brought with the 5-inch numbers (a MUST for any interior stateroom), brush all the crap off the bed unceremoniously, dial in the wake-up call, and once again I'm asleep when my head hits the pillow.

So ends Day 1. I'll try to post Day 2 (At Sea) tomorrow evening...

Let's begin at the beginning...

The cast of characters (I'm withholding names, because this is being written without the permission of anyone):

Your hero – The Author, Me! An urban professional in his mid-20s, currently residing in the nation's capital.

She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed - My girlfriend of nearly 2 years, who joined me on the 4-night Bahamian cruise, and who, until just over a year ago, could not stand anything Disney-related (if you don't get the reference, ask a British friend, or anyone who watches PBS). Also an urban professional in her mid-20s.

P-1 and P-2 – My parents, who were also on the 4-night.

Various FMs – Family members, young and old. Again, identities will remain obscure.

Our entire party was 15-strong, ages ranging from 10 to 82, with a mix of older teens, young adults, middle-aged parents, and retirees. So take that for whatever it's worth (this site is free...so, it's worth nothing).

Travel Day

The wait was over, it finally came! After weeks of planning, scheduling, budgeting, and planning some more, it was time to just up and go. She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and I packed, ate a quiet dinner at home, and went to bed early the night before (that classic commercial with the kid saying “I'm too excited to sleep!”? Yeah, that was me).

The rest of our contingent was coming in from the West Coast, so She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and I were able to avoid an early flight, ate a nice breakfast at home, and grabbed a cab for the short ride to the airport.

We did make use of the DCL-provided luggage tags, checking 4 at the check-in counter, and carrying on another. Before anyone assails the gluttony of 2 people needing 4 large suitcases, 1 roll-aboard carry-on, a backpack and a shoulder bag, understand two things: 1.) She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and I have our own diving and snorkeling gear, which we brought and took up an entire large case; and 2.) I over-pack worse than the most intolerable woman any of you may have ever known (and I'm a tragically fashion-blind guy of a decidedly unhip upbringing...do with that what you will).

At any rate, checking the bags through worked great for us; we were going to spend that night in the Caribbean Beach Resort with the rest of our large party, and since we would be arriving in Orlando around 2pm, figured (correctly) that we wouldn't need our bags until much later. It also simply removed a lot of unnecessary hassle. Others in our group did not check their bags, but all were received at MCO without a problem. Again, it worked well for us, and we liked being able to not worry about them until bed time.

The flight from Reagan to Orlando was quick and predictable; we went from a chilly 30 degrees with clear skies, to a pleasant and partly-cloudy 75 (F) in just about 2 hours gate-to-gate. Gotta love the US Airways East Coast market domination, and Non-stop is the only way to fly on vacation.

Embarrassing incident of the flight: there was a large-ish family of what appeared to be Pacific Islanders in our row, one of whom, a teen-aged boy, was sitting next to me in the aisle. Upon landing, the pilot announces the current time and temperature, after which this kid turns to me and asks, innocently, “what would that be in Celsius?” Um, er, uh...*mumble mumble*...c'mon, think back to freshman year Chemistry...oh yeah, got a C in that...yeah, um....”Er, 25?”...”Wow, that cold, huh?”...”Um, more like....low 30s? (gulp)” Not exactly a ringing endorsement of the American public University system. Oh well.

A bit about MCO (Orlando Int'l Airport): I've flown into and out of more airports than I can conceivably list here, both for work and leisure, and I'd have to say MCO is built to be exactly what it is: the 12th busiest airport in the United States. The architecture lends itself to getting you away from the gates, and toward the main terminal area (where, it is hoped, you'll stop to buy food, clothing, and other items...more about these amenities later). For those flying into the airport for the first time: Don't Panic. Its design is probably the most logic-driven you'll find. Even the out-dated tram system connecting the terminals runs better than the one at Tampa Int'l, only a few hours away, and built around the same time. Again, just a job well-done.

Ok, so we grab our carry-ons, shuffle off the plane, and across the tram. The first thing I noticed after sliding past the security area was what I'd (almost) looked forward to the most: Smiling old ladies in blue single-breasted flight attendant suits, waving white Mickey gloves! Where was my welcoming committee? I don't ask much, just to feel like I'm a rock star whenever I show up to shower a large portion of my post-tax income on the Magical Cruise Company, and its subsidiary Disney Cruise Line (whom, if you'll read your contract carefully enough, explicitly does NOT vouch for the seaworthiness of the ship...great, now a swath of you hypochondriacs out there are going to cancel your reservations...at least it'll open up some spots on the repositioning cruises in 08...).

Anyway, no little old ladies with Mickey hands and clipboards telling me how to get to the Magical Express makes MCO a dull airport. So I drag She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and my rollaway down the 2 flights of escalators, and finally see the object of my anticipation, sans Mickey glove! She's just smiling and hugging a clipboard to her chest, and only when asked, directs us down one more escalator to the queue. Oh well, like Mr. Jimmy said: You can't always get what you want...but you're going on a 7-day cruise while it is sleeting and snowing at home; suck it up. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's what he told Jagger all those years ago...

I was told later that the local sedan, limo and taxi companies filed a complaint and/or lawsuit against MCO, saying that Mears and/or the Magical Express people were diverting potential business away in an unfair fashion, so the deal brokered was that ME could continue to operate, but could no longer use the ladies with the Mickey hands (insert free-market rant about the idiot limo and taxi drivers being able to wait in the terminal like everyone else).

As I mentioned before, we used our luggage tags back at our departing airport, so no waiting around at the luggage carousel for hours...I've never checked my bags through to MCO otherwise, so I can't speak to how long it would take to get them normally, but it can't be pretty...it's a huge airport.

Also, a side note: is there nothing more innocently awkward than standing around a luggage carousel? Everyone sort of shuffles around aimlessly, silently mouthing “is this the right one?” to that one weird-looking guy you happen to recognize from your flight...precisely because he's the weird-looking guy you didn't want to leave your kids sitting across from when you went to the bathroom. Then you try to look cool in front of the wife and kids, wrestling an asymmetrical 400lbs object over a 3 ft-high metal wall, while it's moving at roughly 35 mph in the opposite direction until...whoops, this one isn't ours. They could broadcast it on ESPN2; tell me you wouldn't watch.

Ok, so we whip around the corner, right up to the Magical Express line. Note for first-timers: Yes, the line is long, but won't stop moving. I promise. Especially the day before a cruise leaves, but certainly on Fridays when they will be operating at peak, every kiosk will be manned. So despite the longish line, we never stopped moving until we were checked in, and whisked to our cue for the bus to Caribbean Beach Resort (CBR).

We didn't stand in that cue for more than 5 minutes, until we were herded onto the bus, alongside others going to the DVC resorts (I remember Yacht Club and one other...maybe Beach Club or something; I'll start caring/paying attention after I fork over 20 grand for a piece of paper that expires before I reach retirement age...yeah, you can see where I stand on this issue...). It only took a few minutes for the bus to fill up, and then we were on our way to the hotel. The driver was friendly, if hardly intelligible, and he timed the onboard movie (about checking bags at the hotels, getting into the parks, etc) to finish exactly as we pulled up to the resort. Anyway, it was pretty classy, and earned a few extra in his tip from me (I'm easily entertained...).

There was no line at all to get to the check-in counter, and we were able to check in immediately for our room. First nit of the trip worth picking (other than the Mickey hand thing): The DCL check-in desk closes at 2pm every day, so the rep can courier over all of the information by 5pm. D'oh! So we weren't able to do any of our check-in stuff, nor could we get a straight answer out of the front desk on what, exactly we were supposed to do the next morning. But no need to panic, says I, Disney is Disney, and they've got this covered. If they can have the foresight to put towel receptacles at the exit point of every excursion in Nassau (negating a need to go back to the ship to drop them off...probably the marquee “this is Disney” moment of my life), they'll have this covered. So off we go to the intra-hotel shuttle (another great piece by the resort planners: get people checked in and away as smoothly and quickly as possible-the last thing you need is more people wandering through the lobby for no good reason).

So after 2 stops, the nearly-empty bus drops us off right in front of our room in Trinidad South, and we collapse; FINALLY HERE!

Total time for us from wheels-down to walking into our room: 1 hour, 40 minutes. As Borat might say, the others...not so much. We'll get back to them in a moment.

After dropping our bags at our room, the missus and I made our way to Old Port Royale area, to check out the pool and otherwise stretch our legs. Remember our checked-all-the-way-through bags? Well, upon our return to the room, we found one, two....out of four...hmmm. Nowhere near panicked, but certainly mildly...concerned, I phoned over to the bell hop to see what was what. “Well,” says he, in a very patient, people-are-starving-in-Africa-and-you're-calling-me-because-your-bags
-aren't-there-after-2-hrs school marm voice, “they can take up to 4 hours to get you your bags, and they won't necessarily arrive at the same time.” Fair enough, I think, “but when should I begin to worry?” This is met with a sincerely entertained chuckle, “Well, sir, you should never worry, you're on vacation!” Touche. Lesson learned: Checking bags using the DCL tags works just fine for a short-distance non-stop. Also, I'm told you can use the bag check for the Hyatt at MCO, so if you're staying there, you can use the luggage tags thusly.

My impression of the CBR was pretty good. We (the fam and I) had stayed at the Coronado Springs in '05 during a trip to Disney World, and CBR is pretty clearly a copy of the same design. I did like the “local” swimming pools as in Coronado Springs, as well as the central food-and-kitsch area. Made for good congregating and people-watching, the impromptu sugar-sand beaches added a nice touch, and we had some great pictures of ourselves hanging out in the hammocks. She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and I grabbed a couple of “frosty drinks” from the bar next to the pool (appropriately enough, playing Cheeseburger in Paradise, in preparation for our adventure, and where I was carded not once, not twice, but all 3 times I tried to buy a drink there...I understand being thorough, but I was just here 20 minutes ago lady, and I'm the only customer you've had in that time...sheesh), and an order of good ol' fashioned Chicken Strips with French Fries.

So, back to the others: All of the rest of our party came in from the West Coast; several suffered delays due to the airlines, and several were subjected to very long bus rides (they surmise the driver, who was new, got lost), and 30- to 40-minute lines to check into the CBR. I believe the average wheels-down to walking into room time was 3 hrs for the others. Not exactly a glowing endorsement of the system.

Needless to say, we're staying at the Hyatt within MCO for the 2008 cruise.

Those who arrived early enough concluded the evening with dinner at Shutters (good food, a tad overpriced...try the onion rings), and we were able to watch the fireworks at Epcot from our table. Not too shabby. Those who arrived later were subjected to dinner from the food court, and some went swimming in the evening, but the water was a little cold. Can't complain too much, though...it was January after all.

After a long (for some) day of travel we all drifted off to bed, but not before stopping on the walk back to take some great pictures of the bridge to the other half of the resort-some excellent nightime photos are to be had, if your camera is 5-7 Mpixels and it's a clear night.

Thus concludes our first day; despite plenty of excitement, everyone was pretty tuckered out. Time to hit the hay, and I'm asleep when my head hits the pillow.