Tales from the Vacation. Part 5 of Too Many

Only badass Mofos get pulled over in Disney World

by the Juice

If you’re keepin’ track at home, we are now in Day 3 of our vacation. Check out part 1, part 2, the first half of part 3, the second half of part 3, and don’t forgot about part 4 . I hope this series doesn’t go much longer. This is seriously gettin' out of hand.

I don’t consider myself anal or obsessive. Other’s might, but I don’t. The Juice is a many thing. Weird, unusual, unpredictable, yes. Anal? Obsessive? Not really. Except, except, except when it comes to being on time. I’m not sure why, either. Perhaps it was the way my Grandpappy beat into me that it ain’t proper to be late. Dang, did he beat that into me. As well as other things. There’s a bit of foreshadowin’ for ya. The time thing. Not the other thing. The other things he beat into me is a topic for another show.


the entrance of Animal Kingdom.

So, months prior to our vacation, the missus made “priority seatin’” reservations for 9:30 am at Donald’s Fuckasauras All You Can Binge character breakfast. Again, this is another instance of DON’T LET AN AMATUER DO YOUR PLANNIN'. When the missus was makin’ “priority seatin’” reservations, I told her to make breakfast later in the mornin’. I had 2 reasons for this (not that i got to explain it to you). One, if we managed to get our tired asses out of bed early enough, we could go to a park, ride some rides (get all good and nauseous) and then go eat breakfast. Or, if we couldn’t get our tired asses out of bed (which was more the likelihood), we wouldn’t be under so much pressure to get to where ever we we’re goin'. This is a fuckin’vacation, right? When does the Juice get to relax? So what does the missus do? She actually listens to me. Ha! That a fucking joke! Listen to the Juice? That'll be the day. No. She made seating for 9:30 in the morning. Which doesn't seem early. Until you're at Disney World. Trust me, it's early.



So after two previous days of non-stop walkin’, everyone was a bit bushed. So much so that even the early risers of my crue (Crazy Pixie and Jethro we’re talkin’ about here. Day in and day out those kids get up before the rooster) manage to sleep until 9. Yes, 9 o’clock. When I got up myself (the only dang reason that I got up was cause those little turds were dancin’ on my head shoutin' Disney World! Disney World!), I figured fuck it! So what if we missed our priority seatin’. We can just get breakfast somewhere else. When I suggest that to the gang you’d think I told them that ol’ Mickey crapped in their mouths. Miss a character breakfast? How dare I suggest such a thin’. I told the missus there was no way on the Christ’s blue planet that we were goin’ to make breakfast in time. Even if by some miracle we managed to get ready in record time, it was still about 20 minutes between our cabin and us sitting at the restaurant. And it now being 9:10, there was just no way we were making our 9:30 reservation.





I've got to give her credit. The missus took matters into her own hands. She called the reservation system and got us a reservation for 10 at the same restaurant. Still, I knew in the back of my mind we weren’t makin’ it in time. How did I know? It ain’t like I’m surrounded by the most time observant fuckers. The kids were dancin' around still singin' there Disney World song. The missus was casually puttin' on another layer of make-up. C'mon. Hurry the fuck up!!! Needless to say, I was gettin' a bit frustrated. Valuable ride time was screamin' by us. I was still pushin' the "fuck breakfast" approach, but no one was buyin' Fine! At some point even the Juice has to say fuck it. Anyway, I could use a laugh (and at that point, i really could've used a laugh). By the time everyone got ready and out the door, it was 10 of 10. Ok. I could be wrong. We might not be on time, but we wouldn’t be that late.

So we pile on into the minivan and we're off! We cruised along on one of the 15 lane major thoroughfares that cut thru Walt Disney World (don’t ask me the name. i love the place and all, but i can’t even remember my kids names half the time)at a good clip. We were making good time as we approached the off ramp to Animal Kingdom. However, 2 rather slow moving buses we’re in front of me. Losing what little patience I had left by the second, I take matters into my own hands. I floor it. After about 10 minutes, the van notices I've floored it and finally powers up enough for us to go around the buses. As I was movin’ back into the middle lanes, I noticed a police car flashin’ it’s lights. They've got police in Disney? Who knew?

Now there weren’t many cars around me, so I wondered who was the dumb bastard they were after. I moved another lane over cause the off ramp was quickly approachin'. As I moved into the far right lane to get off the highway, I watched in the rear view as the patrol car followed me. He couldn’t be after me, right? I was in a mini-van. I was dang near untouchable! Figurin’ I was just in his way of goin’ to some horrible drug bust that went bad over at Epcot, I moved onto the shoulder of the road. So did the cop. What?!? He was after me! WTF!


just like that fuckin’ elephant. Don’t ask. You know we did. Several times

As it’s dawnin’ on me that I’m the stupid fuck bein’ pulled over, it’s also dawnin’ on me what’s goin’ on in the van. My girls are smokin’ crack and drinkin' Vodka. My older boy, Jethro, is runnin’ some sort of illegal cock fight in the back (c'mon. i'm just usin' some dramatic license here. don't send emails. my kids weren't smokin' crack or drinkin'. i'm just funnin' i'm just sayin' they weren't bein' very good. that's all). I calmly turn to them and ask them to get buckled and to lower their voices. And by that I really mean I screamed my fuckin’ head off that they had better shut their pie holes and get buckled this instant or there will be some serious hell to pay. They just laugh and went back to the cock fight.

Just like on TV, the officer makes us sweat it out a few minutes, As he’s takin’ his good ol’ time, I’m tryin' to pull my story together. I know. I know. What story? I don’t even know how fast I was goin’. All’s I know is that I’ve got a car full of ungrateful humans that I’m just tryin’ to get to the trough before it closes. If I can keep my sanity intact durin’ the process, that would be swell! Eventually, the officer makes his way to the van. However, he walked over to the missus side, not my side. I thought this was a bit unusual. But this is Florida, who the fuck knows what they do down there. The last time I got pulled over, back at home, it involved several officers with their weapons drawn. So you can see where I’m coming from.



The officer offers some pleasantries. I’m very respectful of the law. I ain’t pokin’ fun here. Besides, I’m not quite sure how the conversation (if you want to call it that) went, but he was very polite. The officer went on about obeyin' the speed limits. And so on. He said that he would give us a ticket, but there would be no fine. I guess he recognized me. He went on that this was only a courtesy. And the next time, it would be Bubba’s poker, not his baton, up my ass. What probably happened is that the officer took one look in the van, saw all those kids and showed mercy. The mercy he should’ve showed me was takin’ me to jail. Or shootin' me in the head.

After handin’ the ticket to the missus, the officer heads back to the patrol car. I don’t even wait for him to get into the car, before I take off like the great Duke boys. No, I’m just funnin’ again. Believe you me, the rest of the vacation, I had the speed limit imprinted on my brain.

As we make our way to…wait. I’m runnin’ a bit long here. I’m gonna pick up the rest of the story next time. And make sure you come back, cause I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet. Well, that’s a lie. There really is no best part. But come back anyway. It’s not like you’re gonna be entertained like this on that whiney ass blog next to mine…