There is just no way to describe the pride and joy that I felt as I watched the Powerpoint presentation. Of course, I have always loved my daughter. But now here was a moment I felt we had transcended space and time, melding minds on some ethereal plane.
My wife and I had been summoned to a presentation in the study. It was led off by a promotional video for Disney World, and then the Powerpoint came up.
I once tried to chew my leg off to get out of a Powerpoint, but now I was riveted to the screen.
It ran through our planned itinerary — no, a master strategy! — for not just arriving at the Magic Kingdom when the park opened, but actually making it there half an hour early to ensure we beat the usual 90-minute wait for the Seven Dwarfs Mine Train.
How audacious! Tears flowed down my face as the slides detailed specific times to wake up, how to eat breakfast while running at full sprint and where to drive cross country through a swamp in order to shave 3 minutes off the Google maps route.
“This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” I told her. “A truly bold and epic quest, rivaled only by “The Odyssey” … or that time we got the free club-level room upgrade in D.C.”
She beamed.
It was a weekend getaway. A quick trip to Orlando and a day at the park. Some see theme parks as fun times to ride rollercoasters and experience magic. For me, they are great mountains to be climbed. Puzzles and riddles to be cracked. Accomplishments to be hung upon the wall. You don’t “do” a park … you “conquer” it!!!
And now my daughter — my wonderful, beautiful 12-year-old daughter — had dared to dream what even I thought was impossible.
“I told you she was a keeper,” I said to my wife.
“Wait a minute … what time do we need to get up?!?” she replied.
For me, it would be 5 a.m. I was to sleep in my clothes. With my toothbrush already in my mouth. Get to Panera Bread by 6 a.m. to pickup bagels. Stopping for red lights or cops was discouraged.
The alarm clock made me jump. I ran out of the hotel so fast, I heard someone ask if there was a fire. I pulled up to the restaurant and pulled hard on the door. It made a horrific “Clang!” Huh? The opening time read: “6:30 a.m.”
Oh no! It had all gone bust. We had failed before we even began.
I texted back to headquarters: “Major snafu. Not open yet. Please advise. I’M FREAKING OUT!!!”
The reply came back: “Forget food. We’ll eat berries when we cut through swamp. GET BACK HERE!!!”
Command decisions. I like it!
I drove like a man on fire. Possessed. Paint literally peeled off the car. But we got there. Early! I had never been inside the park before opening time. Didn’t even know you could do that. Mickey Mouse ceremonially “opens the lands” with a barrage of fireworks.
“You accomplished what I only dreamed possible,” I told her. “I shall record this in an epic poem.”