We have Florida resident season passes to Disney World. And that means that we can attend any time we wish, with the exception of the blocked out dates. Those dates include Christmas week, spring break, and basically summer.
Which is fine by us, because those are typically the busiest weeks imaginable at Disney World.
Our “block out” dates ended last week. And to celebrate, we hopped in the van and made the trek to Disney World. Forgetting that we live in Florida, and it was still August. And also that there are still a good number of families who are still on vacation.
I wore my jeans. Because I’m insane. And I cannot bring myself to done shorts. Unlike the First Lady, who is obviously the Free Spirit in her family, and has no problem wearing shorts when it’s 115 degrees in the shade.
We made our way to Epcot because we reasoned that there is just a lot more room. Plus there are considerably more attractions that are housed indoors. Where the sensible people hang out.
And I tell you, at one point when we were all the way over in World Showcase I truthfully thought that I was going to lay down on the pavement while everyone stepped over me, while I begged to be airlifted out.
Just to clarify, we made the journey all the way to the World Showcase, in the heat, along with 3000 other tourists, because that’s where Mexico is. Mexico = Frozen Margaritas and Churros.
I will brave the Velveeta Nachos for a Margarita and a Churro chaser.
However. Velveeta Nachos + Margarita + Churro + extreme heat + exhaustion = one middle aged woman praying for death to come swiftly.
But that’s not the point of this post. Wait. You mean there’s a point?
While standing in line to board Test Track, Fiddledaddy pointed out to me the teenager directly in front of us. She was obviously texting on her iPhone. But what drew my attention, was the speed in which she was texting. With just the use of two thumbs. I sidled up closer to her, and watched. She was composing something of a novel. I could not believe the speed at which she was typing.
And it was then that I noticed that many of the teenagers we passed at Disney World were busy looking down while texting. All you could see of them was the part in their hair. How much of life are they missing by looking down!
But I consoled myself with the thought that if I should in fact drop to the pavement, the teenagers would spot me since they are looking down anyway, and be able to step over me. Whereas the families with the double strollers would run me right over because they were constantly looking backwards to make certain they hadn’t lost any children.
This whole texting business perplexes me. It is a rare day that I feel the need to text. And if I must, I labor over those short texts. They are physically painful for me. First of all, I have no choice but to wear my rhinestone red reading glasses. The strong ones. And then I am only able to type using my right pointer finger. The same one that gets a good workout whenever I’m correcting the children.
Which from the use of it, you’d think I’d be much faster at forming words. But nay. One simple short sentence can cause me to sweat. And think of curse words. (Which yes, do count.)
So Fiddledaddy challenged me to begin phone typing with my thumbs. Like normal, non-technically challenged people. That idea was met with whining and foot stamping. I evidently possess deformed thumbs that curve outwardly, while my thumbnail curves over the thumb.
I think I prefer to keep my eyes focussed straight ahead. God went to a good deal of trouble to create all of the beautiful sights around me. I don’t want to miss a thing.