Sunday, January 5, 2014

Episode I

Well, I was supposed to fly out of Orlando today and reunite with my beloved Nebraska, but Florida just can't let me go. Florida ran to the airport after me and convinced the weather to be so bad that basically every airport in the Midwest is closed. Florida is trapping me here against my will. This does not bode well for our relationship. This will only lead to resentment and infidelity in the future.

So here I am, in a different rental house, watching the game (GO PACKERS). And I figured,I guess I should start the vacation story. So here it is.

EPISODE I of 'The Rosenau Family's Vacation'

So we flew out of Eppley airport in Omaha, NE on Monday, December 30, 2013. That was last year. I've been here for a year. Anyway, we had a connection in Chicago, but made it to Orlando that evening. The brothers and I had to sit next to each other on both flights and it was a miracle that we all came out alive with all of our limbs still attached to our bodies. We rented a house in Orlando and made our way there and prepared for the next day. New Year's Eve. Disney World. Chaos. Destruction. Terror.
Dad woke us up at 5:30 the next morning and we were in the car by 6:30, at the park by 7:45. And it was okay at first. We were lulled into a false sense of security. There wasn't a terrible number of people and we managed to get onto space mountain with only a half hour wait. But oh, how the horrifying the day was to become. As it turns out, New Year's Eve is Disney World's biggest day of the year. They reach capacity. Capacity is over 100,000. By noon it was madness. The streets were packed, the lines for rides were hours long. Above each ride was a little digital screen saying how long the wait would be and most of them were 90-185 minutes. AND PEOPLE WERE STILL GETTING IN LINE. AND WE WERE SOME OF THOSE PEOPLE. It came to the point where just walking down the street was like being in a line because it was so packed that we would move about a foot forward every minute. AND THE STROLLERS. They're like little fleets of military transportation. There are the smallest of them, only room enough for the child to sit in it. Those are the jeeps. Then are the ones with the little hoods over them and the storage underneath. Those are the armored trucks. There are the double long ones, with hoods and storage and kids sitting inside it like it's a bus. Those are the aircraft carriers. Then there are the "Stroller Destroyers". The double-wide, could hold four toddlers and enough snacks to make it through the apocalypse strollers. They will mow you down without a second thought. It was terrifying. Every moment was a fight for your life. It's hard to even think about. And the foreigners. There were so many! I barely heard any English. Lot's of Spanish. Half of Venezuela was there.
The original plan was to stay until midnight (which would have been 17 hours at the park) but by 6 we knew this was not going to happen. We were at our wits end. We were drowning in tourists. We made in until the first round of fireworks at 8:30 and then we were out of there. Speeding in the opposite direction as fast as humanly possible.
Dad later said that he didn't fully understand what "busiest day of the year" meant.


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