Tales from the Vacation. Part 5.5 of Too Many

by the Juice

Here’s what you’ve missed. And man have you missed a lot…part 1, part 2, the first half of part 3, the second half of part 3, part 4 , and the first part of this nightmare.

So, after our run in with the terrifyin’ Orlando Police, we finally pull up to Animal Kingdom. And it’s well after ten o’ clock. At this point, I’m fairly angry. We’re late. And I hate being late. To anything! Not only are we late for our current reservation, but we totally missed our first reservation at 9:30. Now, we’re late for this second reservation. It’s close to 10:30 and I haven’t been on ride one yet. We fight out way through the crowds through the park to get to Donald’s All You Can Stuff in Your Face Restaurant and check-in. I guess ‘cause we were so late, the folks at Disney decided to punish us. We didn’t get into the restaurant until almost eleven. I like to say that it was as simple as that. You know, an uneventful wait. But, it wasn’t. Remember from 7th grade science, nothin’ happens in a vacuum. Ain’t anything like 4 kids bitchin’ at ya how hungry they are. And ‘cause they’re pissed they haven’t eaten, the kids are makin’ each other lives (and mine for that matter) miserable. There was a lot of:

“Dad! She’s lookin’ at me!” or
“Dad! I’m hungry.” Or
“Dad! Why aren’t we eatin’ yet!” or
“Dad! He’s touchin’ me.” Or
“Dad! I’m hungry.” Or
“Waaa. Waaaa” Or
“Dad! I wonder who your super fine ex-girlfriend is doin’ right now. Either that or she’s probably makin’ another zillion dollars. And your stuck in this forsaken hell hole with the 5 of us!” Or
“Dad! I’m hungry.”



When we finally get into the restaurant there were only 2 other families eatin’. And, AND, they were closin’ down the buffet! I quick found the proprietor of the place Donald Duck. I grabbed him by his oversized head and told him “There was no way they were closin’ down anything before I got my fill! Comprende, you glorified pigeon?” That last part didn’t really happened. Only ‘cause I couldn’t find Donald. But, if I had you can bet I’d have my foot holdin’ back of his head down in a pan of grits ‘til I got what I wanted.



The obviously exhausted servers took us to our table. Which was the furthest point from the buffet. Why? Why not just put 6 dang chairs by the buffet? At this point, you may dispense with the pleasantries. I don’t need a table. For that matter, I don’t need a plate or a fork. Just show me the way to the food.



I get situated at the table in the middle of Tatooine, as the missus takes the three big kids up to the buffet. Keep in mind, that I ain’t in the greatest of moods here still. In fact, I would say that I’m one mis-said word away from rippin’ someone’s liver out. While on I’m waitin’ for the rest of the crew, Lucifer is keepin’ me company by screamin’ his little head off. I’m just doin’ my best to maintain containment. Eventually, the missus and kids come back with their food. I bee line it to the trough. When I get back, Donald and Goofy are finally makin’ their way over to our table. Good! ‘Cause I need some bloody entertainment! What took them so long anyway? Wasn’t like the place was full of patrons.



You can tell by the lack of zip in their step that Donald and Goofy are long overdue for a break. I guess the Disney taskmasters don’t let the poor bastards out until every last guest has their shit-eatin’ grin affixed to their faces. Donald and Goofy do their thing with the kids, which was pretty dang pathetic. They barely moved their arms. I get the camera out as the kids gathered round them for the obligatory picture. I’m pretty sure I heard Donald say, when I told him to smile, to go fuck yourself.



As I’m ready to snap yet another grand memory into the entirety of picturehood, nothing happens. The friggin camera isn’t working all of the sudden. I swear I hear Donald say “what a fucking idiot”. I threw that camera so hard at the Duck, it embedded into his head. I then lunged over the 12 foot long table and tackled that bastard to the ground. Okay. That last part didn’t really happen again. But, I can tell you this. It was a great vision in my head. You should’ve seen the way I pounded Donald’s oversized head into the faux wood floor. He got a good couple of shots in, only cause the sorry excuse for a dog, Goofy, grabbed me. Don’t worry, I taught that fuck a fine lesson in bitch slappin’. But, I digress.




I scramble for the video camera and record some movie of the kids with Goofy and Donald. Great! Nothin’ like posed pictures with a video camera! Eventually, the characters have enough, and their handlers lead them to the back, probably for the ice down and the Vicodin shots. To get them ready for the next 7 hours of being in those costumes in the temperate Florida weather.



Now that we’ve got the pain in the ass picture takin’done, it’s time to dig in. After about 30 seconds of eatin’, Jethro tells me he’s done. What? Done? We just started! I look over at his plate. HE HADN’T TOUCHED A GOD DANG THING!!! And that was his first plate. It wasn’t like the kid had 4 plates of food and decided to call it quits. I still would’ve been pissed, though. Anything less than 5 plates at an all you can jam down your gullet buffet is unacceptable. I look at Pixie’s plate. It’s the same, untouched.
Apparently my kids forgot about all the complainin’ they’ve been doin’ for the last 2 hours about how hungry they were. I said it before, and I’ll say it again. Kids are all about mind fuckin’. It’s why god created them. Not to propagate the species. It’s to show you, after the fact, that you should’ve left your hog in your pants, when that sweet piece of ass was tellin’ you how hot she was for you. Next life? I’m jerkin’ off. Fucketh thateth.



I instruct the kids on the finer points of the All You Can Eat. I explain to them, it’s a buffet. Go, eat. Fill your plate up with food. And eat. And eat. And your not gonna stop until I say it. So finish that fucking plate of food, before I get seriously pissed. And you better smile while your eatin’! This is a fucking vacation. Don’t quote me on any of that. I’m pretty sure I was bangin’ my head on the table for each dollar those kids wasted.

As I’m sure you’re aware, the other thing kids are good at doin’ is not listenin’. ‘Cause after all my scream…er, lecturin’ they still left their plates uneaten. I’m pretty sure I heard all four of them (includin’ my soon to be 2 year old) say in unison, “Go fuck yourself.”

Next: Epcot, Diarrhea (cha cha cha), and the pissed off baby.