We had a good week in Florida with my parents. My boys didn’t fight too much, nor did my parents. All four troublemakers were relatively well behaved which enabled me to relax and enjoy my sandwich generations interacting.
We rented a condo in Orlando so we could hit Universal Studios and Adventure Island primarily to do the new Harry Potter area. We spent two days in theme park hell, but made the best of it by getting along well and taking advantage of an unexpected secret weapon.
The lines were really long. Sixty to ninety minutes for everything good. Our plan was to beeline over to the new Harry Potter stuff at Universal and do the ride first thing. My dad is nearly 87 and doesn’t move very well unless there is a maple glazed donut involved so instead of putting one on a stick and holding it in front of him, we rented the old man a wheelchair.
It was kind of fun to aggressively push my dad around all day. I wrote that on purpose. It pleases me to read it out of context. So yeah pushing him around in the wheelchair you sicko! Anytime there was a slight decline I’d shove him off on a ghost ride and the kids and I would run along side laughing our respective asses off. My dad would wave his cane around and threaten to smack us if someone didn’t get back behind the chair.
Sometimes my dad would want to stretch his legs and use the wheelchair as his walker. At which point Drew, Will and I would race to sit in the chair making my dad have to work a bit harder and my mom, well she was just shit out of luck. She’s a spry 82!
Nope, we had to backtrack against traffic though the maze and found out quickly that oncoming people really don’t give a shit about an old lady walking, two young kids and a handsome man pushing an old man in a wheelchair right at them. It was a game of chicken and they won. They were all honey badgers. I wanted to take the lead and just start plowing them over with my dad using his cane like a lance to joust their asses out of the maze. But I’m a lover, not a fighter so we worked our way out of theme park line purgatory cautiously and finally got to the entrance of the ride again. The kids were disappointed, my mom looked exhausted and my dad was making Zorro sword slashes with his cane from the comfort of his wheelchair.
I stopped my posse to regroup and a young Harry Potter worker ran up to our family meeting and asked if we got to go on the ride. I said, “Are you fucking kidding me? That goddamn line was scarier than Lord Voldemort (a crowd around us recoiled) in the Walmart line on Black Friday!” Or maybe I said, “No we did not;” I can’t remember and I hadn’t even had any butter beer yet (Oh my god, Drew loves butter beer. He was licking the insides of our cups after we were done with them. I’m still having nightmares of his thick pulsing tongue swirling around the plastic rims and sides of all our cups like a slobbering St. Bernard after a long run in the Mojave).
The nice Harry Potter worker said, “Come with me.” So I u-turned Sir Lancelot and my mom and offspring followed as the woman took us to the Xpress line and told us to tell the next two workers Keisha sent us. It was magical. We got all the way to the ride boarding area in five minutes. My dilapidated dad was from there on deemed Fast Pass Grandpa. We had so much fun (the ride is great, by the way).
For the rest of the day and the next day too, anytime we got close to a ride, my dad would take on a sad decrepit look and I’d wheel him to the guard of the Fast Pass Lane and with big stressed eyes I’d ask if I’d be able to wheel my old dying poor father from the nursing home all the way to the ride area. The answer was always yes because they make all the rides handicapped friendly and if there are stairs, there are alternative routes to elevators that also act as major line skippers. Then we’d look longingly at the Fast Pass line with the chain pulled taut blocking the entrance and then look at the guard and then at the chain and then at the guard and then at the chain and then at the guard and my dad would moan a little bit and I’d make my left eye swell up and fill with the beginning of tears and the guard would say, “Here, go through the express lane. Tell them I sent you.”
It worked every time but once and that was only because the regular line was really short. Fast Pass Grandpa was a godsend. I don’t even know what a Fast Pass costs for five people for two days, but I think its over eleventeen bajillion golden galleons. I told Grandpa he is a human goldmine and that he should rent himself out to weary travelers with big families.
There is a lot more to write about the week, such as spending quality time with loved ones, being thankful for all that we have and other such nonsense when compared to taking advantage of the elderly disabled. But I’ll save that for another story. Today, its all about Fast Pass Grandpa.
Thank you Fast Pass Grandpa for getting us through all the lines in record time and then having to actually go on the rides, some of which jostled me around so much I was fearing for his life instead of enjoying the whole ride, but hey, my kids had a blast.
Read all the tips and advice you want on attending theme parks. But you are really wasting your time. All you need to know is to get a wheelchair and shove a grandpa in it; any grandpa will do; and enjoy your day.