Sunday, July 05, 2009

Finishing with Goofy

Once we all at last have food, I mention my shortness of breath to my mom.

Besides being my mom, she’s also the medical authority in our family. A retired physical therapist who still keeps her certification current, she can’t officially diagnose things, but she’s pretty adept at pinpoint what some symptoms “sound like.” Obviously my core problem is asthma, but she throws out a term I hadn’t heard before: exertion asthma, which is where a flare in underlying asthma is caused by prolonged exercise.

I’ve certainly had that the past few days, so I guess it’s not a big surprise that my asthma is acting up worse than it ever has. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

My mom volunteers to stop by our room later and “work on me” a bit to loosen the congestion. I’m all for it. If I live that long.

Hey, here comes another awkward princess meeting! It’s Aurora, a/k/a Sleeping Beauty. She’s fully in character, of course, and is asking us where we come from and to tell her about “the kingdom of Dallas.” Heh. And once again, we prod our boys into getting up and getting their picture with the pretty (and royal) girl.

In the course of the meal I ask my parents how they wound up in Disneyland. The initial mistake was theirs, thinking that the Anaheim Resort Transit trolley would take them to the Disneyland Hotel, which it doesn’t. I had mentioned that to them earlier this week, but in fairness, I’ve spouted a flood of information this week, and it’s understandable that something would get missed.

From there, though, they say they spoke with cast members who either didn’t understand where they needed to be or gave directions without really knowing what they were talking about. They were told to enter Disneyland park! Somehow they wound up in New Orleans Square, totally lost, and were asking yet another CM – sometime right after my first phone call to them – when a nice lady, a guest, overheard their question and knew exactly what they needed to do. And better yet, she was headed the same way herself, so she rode with them on the train and directed them to the monorail.

Who knows how long they would have taken if she hadn’t come along.

Now Goofy is coming! Chef Goofy, that is. He’s his usual lovable self, and when we tell him what a good cook he is, he has a very humble “Aw shucks” reaction.

The food is good and plentiful, the atmosphere noisy and fun, but we’re ready to get back into the parks. Apart from my lack of breath, I’m really looking forward to this. We’ve wanted to get my parents with us on one of our Disney trips for years, and it’ll be fun going through the parks with them.

We gather our belongings and wind back out through the restaurant to the entrance. I still haven’t found my Passporter. I figure I’ll try the desk here again, and then go inquire at the front desk of the hotel. Hopefully someone has turned it in.

I get the attention of one of the cashiers and start describing the brown leather binder. She immediately turns to a cabinet behind her and pulls my Passporter out. Whew! I am so relieved to have this back in my hands. Again, there’s not much of monetary value in it, but I’d hate to lose out of all my recorded memories of the last few days with the Vocal Majority (even if we did come in second!).

The cashier receives my very, very sincere thanks, and I head out the door.

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