Disney, Griswold Style

My wife, kids, and I have been unabashed Disney World nuts for quite a few years now. We’ve gone on at least one Disney trip each year for the past 5 years—usually in December when the crowds are down and the decorations are up. 2010 was no exception. We made our plans in the summer and spent the entire fall saving and paying on the trip. It was to be a special one because we were going with my wife’s parents and her sister’s daughter. We had gone with my in-laws before and had a really wonderful time…until everyone got food poisoning. We all were looking forward to this trip because my kids adore their cousin and my wife and I were hoping for some chances to do a few things on our own.

When all was said and done the trip was one of our worst Disney experiences. We came home swearing we would never go again; we would spend our money to do something else entirely next year. Now, June 2011 my kids are begging me to go back to Disney and I am finally ready to consider the idea again. My wife, however, will be a tougher nut to crack.

It started off badly. We left our house around 6am, just as planned and everyone (except me) fell asleep. A few hours into the drive, I received a call from the pet resort that was helping us foster our cats. Our cats had been in transition for quite a while—we’d been fostering and boarding them because our son developed an allergy to them and we moved into a no cat house. We had finally arranged for permanent homes for them and were planning to take them there after the trip. That morning, on the drive to Disney, I learned that our 13-year old cat Chloe had died. Now Chloe was our first cat and was my wife’s cat. Before we had kids, she used to have birthday parties for this cat. I knew everyone would be upset by her passing…so I didn’t tell anyone.

Not long after we met up with the grandparents and niece, the family tension started. Now taking a Disney trip is really no vacation. Unless you have two weeks to spend, there simply is too much to do and not enough time to do it. So, you end up cramming the days very full. It is tiring and sometimes stressful. The Disney parks are at this very moment crammed with exhausted children crying and good-hearted parents (whose only desire is to give their kids a good Disney trip) screaming wildly at their families. Really, go and check it out. Disney trips create a certain amount of mental and physical duress that can drive even the most patient, loving parent to the very brink of sanity. Under those circumstances, some family tension should be expected. We got it in spades and it flared up periodically throughout the trip.

The trip wasn’t all stress and difficulty, though. While at EPCOT we got to ride Soarin’ and Test Track a couple of times and my kids loved showing their cousin the Nemo ride. We had a great meal at the Italian pavilion at Tutto Italia and our niece got to see and get photos with a bunch of the key characters. The kids and my wife went to a princess breakfast at Cinderella Castle and had a great time. My son got a sword, my daughter and niece got a wand, my wife got a nice breakfast and plenty of pictures…and I got to do Space Mountain and the Haunted Mansion on my own! The in-laws weren’t well and missed most of that day. We went to Hollywood Studios and did Toy Story Mania a couple of times. I got to do the Tower of Terror, which no one else wanted to do, and everyone else did Rockin’ Rollercoaster. The kids got their picture taken with Lots-o-Huggin’ bear (I personally wanted to punch him in the nose because he’s a bad guy). We ate at the SciFi Diner, which is a restaurant with a drive-in movie theme. The tables are shaped like cars and there is a giant movie screen showing B-movie clips. We got to walk down the Streets of New York with (fake) snow falling and everything lit up by the Osborne Lights while Christmas music blasted. We logged two days at the Magic Kingdom and got in most of what we all wanted do to there, also. Several passes through the Peter Pan ride, Snow White’s Scary Adventure, the Pooh ride, and Dumbo. I grabbed a quick trip through Pirates of the Caribbean while on a mission to get fast passes. Now that I think about it, we really did pretty well in getting to do the stuff we wanted to do.

The circumstances of that fun made it more challenging…remember this trip was in early December. The weather wasn’t great the entire time we were there. The first day it got into the low 70s, and the kids did some swimming. I did, too. Notwithstanding the pirate-themed swimming pool, it was a bit too cold for my taste. The next day it rained and turned colder and the last couple of days it was downright cold, getting into the 30s at night. Disney hosed me $50 for some ponchos purchased at Hollywood Studios and the kids collectively lost a pair of mittens and a hat. It is hard to have a magical time when you are cold and wet and feeling slightly abused.

Besides the weather and the tension, two other occurrences epitomize this particular trip and will forever be part of my collective Disney memories.

One of these involved a retainer and Pizza Planet. While eating at a very crowded Pizza Planet on a rainy and cold day, I accidentally threw my niece’s retainer in the trash. I was just trying to be a good guy and bus the trash off the table so we could rejoin our forced march of fun. (No good deed ever goes unpunished.) Now normally throwing something in the trash isn’t a huge deal—you just go and get it out. In this case, we were in a packed Disney restaurant that produced tons of trash per minute. It only took a couple of minutes to realize what I had done, but in that time the trash can I had used filled up. I had to go dumpster diving in a hurry as the family collectively freaked out over the retainer. Feverishly I pawed through half eaten pizza, spilled sodas, and salad remnants looking for the retainer. The people who sat next to the trash can seemed to take great interest and delight in my quest. They made lots of suggestions and even seemed prepared to roll up their sleeves and dive in with me. (Something my father-in-law did.) Happily I found the retainer wrapped in a napkin before I reached the bottom of the can.

As I said, everyone freaked out over this incident. The niece was scared. After all, losing retainers and breaking glasses are two of the most feared events in a kid’s life. The grandparents freaked because they were responsible for the niece and her retainer. My wife and kids freaked because everyone else was wigging out. After my triumphant return from the trash with the retainer I was hotly scolded for throwing it away, sent straight to the restroom to wash my hands and the retainer, and then coated liberally with hand sanitizer when I returned. I never did bus the table again on that trip. The bright side is that I can now add excavating at Pizza Planet to my professional resume.

The other event, the one that really captures the spirit of the trip and my personal experience, happened on the last night, in our last hour at a Disney park. We were at the Magic Kingdom hurrying to get in the last rides and souvenir shopping before the Christmas party we didn’t have tickets for was to start. It was freezing cold and we all were tired. Now, my son seems to have a small bladder. He has to pee a lot and the need rarely arises when a bathroom is conveniently nearby. We carry a pee bottle with us for these situations. Luckily he’s a boy, so his equipment works well with pee bottles. Earlier that day, we had used the pee bottle and I hadn’t taken the time to empty it—I just stuck it on the back of the stroller. You can see where this is going. My father-in-law and I had just dashed back to fetch the strollers as everyone else pushed onward with the fun. As I got to our stroller I grabbed a bottle of water and took a big slug…only it wasn’t water. The first gulp went down, the second one—after I realized what I had done—got spit out. The crazy thing is that I was so tired, so stressed, so focused on completing the mission that it didn’t faze me at all. Without missing a step, I spit out the pee I hadn’t swallowed, took a drink of real water, and pushed the stroller on through Fantasy Land. Magical!

The next day the in-laws and niece left and we spent time riding the monorail, visiting hotel lobbies with big Christmas trees and shopping at Downtown Disney. It was a good to wind down with just our family negotiating it all. As we usually do, we stayed until 8:30PM and got home at about 4AM. When we got home we discovered that the landlord’s painters—who were fixing some peeling paint in the bathroom—had covered our bedroom in a fine dust from the sanding. So at 4AM, after a long Disney trip, we changed bed clothes, dusted surfaces, and mopped the floors.

We had had so much f***ing  fun that, as Clark W. Griswold famously said, we were whistling Dixie out our…well, you remember the line.

Oh yeah, and the next day I had to tell everyone about Chloe…is it any wonder that we didn’t want to go back?

The Things I Learned from My Students This Semester

I talked a lot during my Anthropology 101 class this semester and with so many students it was hard to get to hear from them. Fortunately my exams give them a chance to share with me. Below are some things that I learned from my students about the history of humanity. I couldn’t be more proud!

On the Pleistocene…

The Pleistocene was a time when global temperatures rose and the polar ice caps melted.

Now wait. How come we are talking like global warming will melt the polar ice caps as if it is something new that we’ve never seen before? It happened during the Pleistocene! With all that heat going on, why do they call it the Ice Age?

On the Benefits of Fire…

One of the benefits of fire was that it protected Homos from predators.

I am not sure where to go with this one. So…if fire hadn’t been tamed, there’d be no Homos?

On evidence of hunting practices as seen in Neanderthal skeletons…

“They had chimpanzee-like big toes that were good for climbing”.

First of all, their toes weren’t like chimpanzees’. Second, what were they climbing like chimpanzees in Ice Age Europe? And finally, what were they hunting while climbing trees like chimpanzees in Ice Age Europe?

On how Neanderthals differ physically from modern humans…

Neanderthals are stalkier.

Now to me stalks are usually tougher and chewier, so I suppose that means Neanderthals were tougher and chewier. Those data must have come from the Journal of Gastropaleoanthropology. I’ve let my subscription lapse.

On evidence of compassion among Neanderthals…

“Skeletons found that were brutally beaten showing that there were fights”

“One example of Neanderthal compassion is that they would make bracelets and necklaces for their loved ones. And they would make belts for the men in the family.”

…because nothing says compassion like a good thrashing and giving a dude a belt.

“They were known to climb trees a lot b/c they had chimp-like toes.“

Again with the chimp-like toes and the tree climbing…and there is no more compassionate act than climbing a tree, chimp-like toes notwithstanding.

“When the Neanderthal interbreeded with humans. DNA evidence shows that humans have up to 4% Neanderthal DNA.”

Yes, intra-subspecies sex does smack of great compassion.

“Boys skeleton found in grave with evidence of a crushing blow to the head and eyesocket. Also had broken arms”

Man, if that is compassion I would hate to see what happened when they were pissed.

On the domestication of plants and animals…

Rice was domesticated first in the Middle East

I guess there was more water there in the Middle East back in the day.

Horses and buffalo were domesticated in the New World.

Native Americans of the Great Plains will be surprised by all of this. They spent a hell of a lot of time chasing those damned buffalo around on foot.

“Domestication is the way in which humans manipulate plants + animals to serve them.”

I never thought if it quite that way. I suppose indirectly this is a plea for universal rights for all living beings.

On monuments of early civilizations…

One of the monuments left behind by the Egyptian civilization was cave paintings.

Honestly, are there any caves in Egypt?

On ancient writing...

“In Egypt they wrote on papaya and in mud that was baked to maintain their record system.”

Now that is some advanced shit. Do you have any idea how hard it is to write on a papaya? It is really a pretty soft fruit. Also, I am pretty confident that the papaya is not native to Africa. This may be conclusive evidence that the leaders of Egyptian society were technologically advanced aliens. How else besides space ships do you get papayas to Egypt before the invention of refrigeration and the internal combustion engine?

With all this new stuff, it is time for me to update my PowerPoints. When the fall semester starts, I want to be on top of the latest information!

It was just a Dream

We celebrate the candy part of Easter every year, and my kids have been completely focused on getting their loot for days and days. As it has drawn closer, candy madness has built to a fevered pitch. While we were at the lake yesterday swimming, my daughter said a couple of times, “I can’t wait for tomorrow.” Last night we watched what I think is the best part of Easter—the airing of the 10 Commandments. So, with visions of candy-bearing bunnies dancing in my head I went to bed (after Joshua led the Hebrews across the River Jordan).

I woke this morning remembering a dream I had in slumber. I dreamt that I WAS the Easter bunny. I got up at 4am, while my kids slept, and filled the baskets. I dreamt that I stumbled, groggy and still half asleep, into my wife’s closet and pulled down multiple target bags of candy and fake grass. In this dream, I was terrified that I would be discovered posing as the EB because of those damn crinkly bags. I can see in myself nervously peeking out the bedroom door to make sure no kids were stirring. I had to open boxes of candy and bags of fake grass, making a horrific noise. In this dream, I quietly slunk from the bedroom, past the kid’s room, to the living room where the candy altar (dining table) was prepared to receive EB’s gifts.

After leaving the baskets on that altar, I dreamt I returned to the bedroom to perform another task. It seems that in the dream, my wife had bought all the candy (without my knowledge of what it was and for which kid, etc.). She had bought single boxes of gobstopper eggs and mini blow pops, plus a single huge bag of plastic eggs. As I remembered this dream, I saw myself becoming increasingly paranoid that a kid would wake—as one inevitably does to go to the bathroom—and discover me pouring candy eggs onto the bed and stuffing them into plastic eggs. At one point, I remember dumping a dozen egg-shaped gobstoppers from the bed to the floor. Again, the racket filled me, in my dream, with fear. After filling the eggs, I dreamt that I brought them all into the dining room and family room and hid them for the kids to find. 

In this Easter-inspired dream, I realized that I had to hide the boxes and bags that once held the treasure. In real life my daughter had asked me several times this week if I was the EB, so, in my dream, I knew she would search the entire house for evidence of my deception. I returned to the bedroom and stuffed all the boxes and bags into one target bag and crept to the kitchen. I stuffed the bag into the kitchen trash can, burying it under leftover food and coffee grounds. In my dream, I felt my daughter would notice the target bags on top of the trash if I didn’t hide them. I am still amazed at how real this dream seemed to me.

 

In my dream, I quietly retired after covering my bunny tracks. I don’t remember anything else until my son woke me at 6:45 this morning to ask if it was time to get up. I told him it was too early.  A short 30 minutes later he was back and I told him to wake his sister. We all trundled into the dining room to find two baskets filled with candy and plastic eggs hidden throughout the family room and dining room. Then, as predicted in my dream, my daughter began to inspect the house. She called me to the bedroom to point out an egg-shaped piece of candy lying on the floor, once hidden by the covers hanging to the floor. Then later she brought me another egg found in the covers of the bed. I was as puzzled and amazed as my kids. I didn’t really fill those baskets and spill candy on the floor…it was a dream, wasn’t it?

A Sign

Last year I worked really hard and did really well with getting my weight under control and getting into cycling shape. I took a break in the month of December and got a new bike. This year I’ve been pretty lame. I haven’t been riding much, I haven’t done any of the core workouts I intended to do, and my diet is creeping back to the bad old days.

Sure I can blame all this backsliding on my schedule. This semester has been exceptionally busy. I just can’t find the time to get on my bike more than one day a week. I had wanted to do a 100 mile ride—the Tour de Cure—here in SC in early May, but I just haven’t gotten the miles in yet to even start some kind of training program. Even if I could start training, I likely won’t be able to ride much in April because the family schedule will be really cranked. 

I’ve been hoping that the upcoming time change will allow me to ride in the early mornings before the crazy days start. I’ve been hoping that the time change will jump-start me. Yesterday, I got a sign—that I need to get my ass in gear before I undo all that I’ve been able to do so far.

I was in the front seat of my car. My son wanted his water bottle out of the back and it was on the floor. I turned around, draped my body over the front seat and reached for the bottle on the floor. At that point, all of my weight was balanced on the corner of my seat’s headrest and it was all focused on one rib. Then something went crunch. My rib has hurt ever since…like when you crack, break, separate a rib…it hurts when I laugh, breath, cough.

Literally, I hurt myself under the weight of my own body. That is both comical and pathetic. Here, then is my wake up call. Hey Fat Archaeologist, get off your ass and quit hiding behind your schedule.

Slow Night Valet Haikuage

It may not be good, but it has gotten me through some slow nights. And it really isn’t quite proper Haiku, even for English Haiku. I don’t always include a reference to the natural world or seasons (Japanese kigo). I am better at including a cut (kireji) that contrasts or compares two things.

Blazin, packin, drunk

Blind like good Lady Justice

I see only tips

Unwilling witness

Tree rooted in poison earth

Your anger eats me

Rare golden treasure

Idaho’s underground pearl

Precious tater tot

Ghostly glowing bowl

Gathering nighttime shadows

Floating white crescent

Attendant profile

Black reflection for the world

Light’s dark side of me

Slow spreading poison

Blooming light of dawn

Frustration rising

Marathon of meat

Beefy Tower of Babel

One epic burger

Just Like Me

My wife and I have a running joke about my son. You see, he looks nothing like me. My wife says you wouldn’t know he was my son. It is true…he’s got a round face, curly hair, and big brown eyes. He’s also got something I’ll never have—a sense of rhythm and control of his body. The boy can shake what his Momma gave him…and Elvis would be proud.

While I am certain I helped make him, it is important that I make the case once and for all that he comes from me. The evidence against me might seem compelling—especially the dancing stuff—but just yesterday he did something that proves unequivocally that he is my son. Before I reveal that, let’s review my general case. Here is a list of a few similarities:

He is charming and clever. Anybody who knows me well knows I can keep a party mesmerized with my personality for hours at a time. My son has that same kind of charisma. That isn’t something you learn…it is something you are born with.

He likes to ride bikes. I swear this is the case through no influence of my own. Also, before I had a chance to voice my opinion, he told me that Alberto Contador should be sanctioned for testing positive for clenbuterol at the Tour de France, regardless of how small the amount was. He told me that the tainted meat defense was at best weak because it didn’t prove he ingested the clenbuterol accidentally…only that he could have ingested it accidentally. He cogently argued that the Spanish Cycling Federation’s acceptance of this flawed logic showed blatant favoritism borne of national pride. He called for a wholly independent body to hear doping cases and hand out sanctions. Really…and I didn’t prompt him in the least…although I have to say that he makes a compelling case.

He loves mayonnaise. If that isn’t proof positive, I don’t know what is. I love my mayo…so creamy, so versatile, the perfect condiment. My wife and daughter hate the stuff. My son, he’ll eat a mayo and lettuce sandwich. Really, he asked me to make him one just yesterday…ate the whole thing.

He can fall asleep at the drop of a hat and wakes early. I have the exact same sleep habits. I can go to sleep just about anywhere when I am tired and no matter how late I go to bed I still wake up by 7:00. His mother and sister....not so much.

He will eat anything It doesn’t matter what it is…from a turkey and pickle sandwich to roasted duck to Tandoori Chicken. If I eat it, he will, too. My wife and daughter have more discriminating, more clearly defined palates.  Like me, he will eat anything. Come on, that’s got to be genetic.

As if all of that wasn’t enough, he did something yesterday that only my son would do, thereby proving that he has my brain. He and I and his sister were at the zoo. We took a lunch with us that included some potato chips. Using broken bits of potato chip bits he spelled his name. No one suggested it, no one talked about it. He just did it.

As a kid, I was known for…well…similar kinds of eccentricities. I once mowed my name in the lawn when I was supposed to be cutting the grass. When I was a kid I collected miniature beer bottles, had a tin foil ball I added to regularly, and made up words and used them in everyday speech. My son collects empty soda cans and sticks and makes up words for things he doesn’t know the word for and then uses them in everyday speech as if we all know what he is talking about. I am telling you, he is a mad genius…just like me.

Man Food

Today my son and I started down his path to manhood. Today I began teaching my son one of the most important skill sets any man could possess. Today we went out into the world, captured man food, and then cooked it and ate it. We started our day with a bowl of cereal for strength. Then we braved the mean streets of Shandon in our trusty Toyota Corolla and made our way to the hunting grounds—Publix. Once there, we quietly stalked our prey and finally cornered it on Aisle 2. It didn’t give up without a fight, but my son captured the corned beef hash and subdued it. Again braving the streets of Shandon, we made our way back home. We two, my son and I, cooked that corned beef hash with fried eggs (over easy) and heavily buttered toast. We feasted a manly feast of fatty foods with much cholesterol. My son’s response, “Mm, this is good!”

Indeed.