Orlando, Florida
Monday, January 9, 2006
I woke up about 3:30 Monday morning. I was able to get back to sleep, but when I woke up again at 5:45 I was ready to go. I quietly got dressed and left the room, hoping to find a cup of coffee somewhere. Nothing was open. I did a couple of walking laps around the Boardwalk resorts, noticing all the people out for an early morning run. I had no desire to join them. I wasn’t feeling all that poorly, a little mild suffering from all of Sunday’s celebration beers, but a run wasn’t on the schedule. Temps were finally a bit normal for an Orlando morning, comfortable with just a long sleeve shirt.
Finally, the bakery place opened and I got a big piece of fried sugary stuff and a cup of coffee and stood out on the boardwalk enjoying things. I was just quietly reliving my weekend accomplishment. Renate buzzed me and let me know that the rest of the crew was up and about, so I bought a paper and made it back to the room.
Since the beginning, I had added a third event to the Goofy Challenge. Something about my triathlon roots, I guess. I was going to run the half marathon on Saturday, run the full marathon on Sunday, and walk around the World Showcase at Epcot having a beer at each country on Monday. I called this third event the Epcot Shuffle. Any and all were welcome to come along. It was not to be a timed event. Until the before and the after got filled. Here comes the before part. The after will come in later.
The plan was to start in Canada at noon. Now, I’m the type of person that likes to have one item on each day’s to do list. If I have two, I’m overscheduled. Unfortunately, Renate and the others are not like that. So, we headed over to the Magic Kingdom because they all wanted to ride Space Mountain. We walked over to Epcot from the hotel to get the monorail to the Magic Kingdom. At least I got to see the big Christmas tree that I never saw when running around it. And poor old Morgan gets confused for the first, of many, times.
Morgan and I are bringing up the rear as the others are power walking to the monorail. One of the Disneyites, with a fairly thick accent, asks Morgan “what you do?” Morgan is totally and completely baffled. He’s drinking a can of Mt. Dew. The Disneyite asks again “what you do?” Morgan was thinking it was illegal to drink Mt. Dew in Disney (the old Pepsi vs. Coke battle, I guess). The third time the Disneyite says “what you do?” she points to Morgan’s chest. He’s wearing a shirt, from last year’s marathon, that says “I DID IT!” Ok. Mystery solved. Morgan says, “I ran the marathon yesterday.” The Disneyite is happy. Morgan finishes his Mt. Dew and we walk a bit faster to catch up with the crew.
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We get to the Magic Kingdom and Morgan is confused for the second time. His park hopper card, that worked fine in Epcot, won’t let him into the Magic Kingdom. Renate (who went into a separate line because of her backpack), Roger, Mary Ivy, Jeff, and I are all on the other side of the turnstiles while Morgan, good old Morgan, is holding up the line. I tell the others to watch Morgan (another Disneyite is trying to resolve the problem) while I go find Renate and tell her what’s going on. Eventually Morgan gets into the park and we all meet up.
Oops. I forgot breakfast. The reason we’re in such a hurry to get through Epcot and get on the monorail is because we have 9:30 am breakfast reservations at the Polynesian resort. Again, not on my to do list. Well, eating breakfast was. The bigger the better. But not having to rush someplace to get it. And then getting there and finding out that despite our reservation, which we were a few minutes late for, we’d still have to stand around for 15 minutes or so. |
 This is in the Magic Kingdom. If I look like I’d rather be someplace else, it’s because I do. |
And Roger got in trouble with Mary Ivy because he “sprinted” from Epcot over to the Polynesian on the walkway between the two while the rest of us took the monorail. Roger didn’t have his phone turned on like he was supposed to. Because he wasn’t at the restaurant when we got there, MI tried to call to tell him he didn’t have to hurry since we had a wait before being seated. Roger got in trouble . . . Roger got in trouble. (Note to Rachel and Ryan, it was the equivalent of a “STEVEN.”)
Ah, here’s another story. Morgan and I would have random $1 bets on the behaviors of our big brother Jeff. I was up $2 because Jeff didn’t put his spaghetti plate in the dishwasher after his Sunday lunch and he didn’t eat all his dinner at Raglan’s Pub Sunday night. For Monday breakfast, Jeff said he was going to order such and such. Morgan placed two $1 bets. He said Jeff would not order what he said he was going to and he would eat it all, whatever he ordered. Mind you, Jeff is sitting right next to Morgan while we’re betting on his breakfast. Well, I won the dollar because he did order what he said he was going to, but Morgan won the clean your plate dollar, so it was a wash.
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Now, back to the Magic Kingdom. Renate sends Roger and Mary Ivy over to Space Mountain to get FastPass and the rest of us head toward Pirates of the Caribbean. Roger and MI catch up and Dave and Jeanne join us. I don’t want to ride, not that I’m afraid of pirates or anything, so I sit outside and people-watch. I listen to someone on his cell phone trying to solve some problem back at the office. His wife and little kids seem to be used to that behavior. I drink a coke. There’s a smattering of medals out on display, more than a few Goofy’s.
(You know, I really thought this was going to be a relatively quick, down and dirty, type of story. But it’s going to have to pick up speed if that’s to happen. And, truth be told, I’m not so hopeful. You might want to refresh whatever it is you’re drinking.) From P of the C, we go over to Space Mountain. (I still don’t know how I went off course yesterday. There are no yellow cones today, so I can’t tell where I missed the turn.) Renate, Roger, Mary Ivy, and Dave go coastering. The rest of us hang around in the plaza where we’re entertained by the Space Mountain Marching Band, or whatever the group of ten or so musicians dressed in “futuristic” costumes called themselves. I was entertained, but it doesn’t take much. And then the Space Mountain riders return. At this point we decide to diverge, since we have different plans for the day. Renate, Jeff, Roger, and Mary Ivy are going to stay in the Magic Kingdom for a bit. The rest of us aren’t. |
 I guess there was a reason they wanted to keep Morgan out of the Magic Kingdom. |
It’s about 12:15 or so, Dave, Jeanne, Morgan, and I head off to catch the monorail to Epcot. It’s time to start shuffling. First stop, Canada, eh. By the time we get there, we’re roughly 30 minutes behind schedule. (Morgan, again, had a problem with his park hopper ticket. Jeanne got the Disney weenies to give Morgan a brand new card.) We belly up to the beer stop and peruse our selections. Not bad, Moosehead on tap and Labatt’s Blue in bottles. Morgan and I opt for the draft while Dave goes with the Labatt’s. He tries to tip the bartenderess, but she says they’re not allowed to accept. We toast to the shuffle. Dave flirts a bit with the Canadian chicks. Morgan and I give him some space. Little did we know about Dave and women.
We’re too early for entertainment, but the worker bees are starting to open up the bandstand. I wonder why the drum set is behind a big sheet of Plexiglas. Is he that bad that people throw things at him? Just the first of many questions that will arise out of our travels around the world.
Beer number one is safely consumed and now it’s on to the next stop, the United Kingdom. The outdoor beer stand isn’t open so we wander into the Rose & Crown Pub. Nice selection on tap: Guinness, Harp, Bass Ale. Morgan says he wants the lightest beer they have. He gets the Harp. Dave goes with the Bass. I only drink Bass once a year, at the Super Bowl gathering (whose house is it at this year?), and, besides, the DADTC is sponsored by Guinness (even if Guinness doesn’t know it), so I get a pint of the good stuff. Jeanne gets a pint of water with a slice of lemon and a slice of lime. (Her mission for today is to get a little flag at the gift stands of each country for her daughter Catie (known to me as Bug). About this time, our second beer, she’s beginning to realize that, yes indeed, we are going to slowly make our way around the World Showcase drinking beer. That’s our only activity. She’s starting to get a wee bit bored.)
While we’re standing in the Rose & Crown, I get a call on my cell from some strange number. It’s Rich, my best man in our wedding. He lives in Florida and we were trying to set up a get together. Too much of life was getting in the way for him, so he wasn’t going to be able to make it to Orlando. We had a nice chat and he was duly impressed that I finished 19th in the marathon. He kept asking if that was in my age group and I had to keep pointing out it was overall. I never got into a discussion about what I did on Saturday, that would have totally blown his mind. Besides, I had finished my pint and the next country was beckoning.
Which was France. One of the question marks going into the shuffle was, would every country have beer? We weren’t entirely sure about France, Morocco, and Italy. We get to the French alcohol stand and start reading the sign of selections. First three columns were all different grades of wine. Fourth, and final column, has a heading of “Sparkling Wines” and, finally, below that, “Beer.” Good old Kronenberg 1664. France was the first country with only a selection of one. Well, that takes any decision making out of the equation.
It was also the first country with any entertainment. A French acrobat was stacking chairs in a column and doing handstands on top. He got up there pretty high. Mildly entertaining, but we were pretty much at the end of the show. We drank our Kronenberg 1664’s and started moving on to Morocco.
And a little dilemma. We hadn’t finished our French beer and we weren’t entirely sure we could cross over the border into Morocco with it. We came to a line of pavers in the walkway, obviously the border between the two “countries” and stopped. Morgan walked across and nothing happened, no border police coming out yelling “what you do?” so Dave and I crossed over into Morocco, as well.
It was Dave’s turn to buy again. Three cups of Casa beer please. (Obviously, the powers that be won’t let you walk around Epcot with the bottles, so everything gets poured into the generic Disney plastic beer cups.) It’s called Casa because it has something to do with Casablanca. Dave again tries to tip the beer pourer, but it’s refused. Dave says “What if I happen to drop a $20 behind the bar?” The guys eyes light up. Dave puts his money in his pocket.
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It was in Morocco that we decided we’d try and learn to say “thank you” in the native tongue. So, our friend the bartender says something and we repeat it. Badly. He chuckles. Then he says, “But in my dialect we say . . .” which is infinitely more difficult. We sprain our tongues trying that one out. We say “thank you” in American and walk over to the lagoon.
While standing at the rail, I get a call from Renate. She and Jeff have just passed the United Kingdom and are on their way to France. “Where are you?” she asks. Morgan, Dave, and I take a vote and decide we’re still in Morocco. I look over at the bridge between the UK and France and see this guy wearing one of those Mickey the Sorcerer hats. I look more closely and see that it’s my big brother Jeff. Oh-kay. Entertainment is on the way, boys. I look a few steps ahead and there’s Renate. Jeanne materializes with her little Moroccan flag just as Jeff and Renate reach us. Jeanne seems to think that Dave is slurring his words since he can’t say “sushi” very well. We ask Jeanne to say it and it’s not any better. Irregardless, it’s decided that a snack in Japan is probably a good idea. I make it clear that I’m not eating any raw fish and they reassure me that we can also get some deep fried fish and meat. Ok. That’s better. |
 This is Jeff, first born son and heir to the Noone throne. (That’s the mysterious Christmas tree on Jeff’s left shoulder.) |
We start moseying over to Japan, ignoring the border crossing. There’s a spot of entertainment. Some Japanese drummers beating the heck out of some big drums. Again, we only catch the tail end of the show. It’s decided that, since the three shufflers still have some Moroccan beer, Renate and Jeanne would go into the restaurant in Japan and get a table and place an order. Jeff is still stuffed from breakfast and he’s going to walk around. (Jeff is known in the family as “LostOne.”) I get assurances from him that he will be back outside in Japan at the appointed time. He goes off, Dave, Morgan, and I go in. Morgan wants to race up the steep steps into the restaurant. I let him win since there was no money on it.
I guess it was a nice little interlude in Japan, drinking Kirin beer and eating deep fried somethings or other. But, it was time to resume shuffling. I don’t know at what point we were informed that there was a “deadline.” We were supposed to be back at the United Kingdom at 4:30 pm for dinner. It was an early dinner because something was tacked on to the back end of the shuffle. Renate wanted to go over to MGM Studios to watch some night time show. I had no interest in that, but I said we’d give it a shot to be at the UK at the appointed time. Dave, Morgan, and I left the girls to pay our bill and we headed out.
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And, Jeff was waiting where he was supposed to be. He said he had only made it back to France where he saw, probably, the same acrobat guy. But, from what Jeff described, he had a second act. This one involved spectators. Probably good that we weren’t there for that.
Now, it’s on to the US pavilion, officially called “The American Adventure.” Dave wants to go inside and watch the movie, he says it’s really great. I have to remind him of the mission, and that sitting inside a theater where they probably don’t serve beer is not part of it. He comes to his senses and we make it to the beer hut. Where we’re greeted with the All-American choice of Budweiser or Bud Light. Two Buds and a Bud Light, please. As usual, Dave is chatting up the bartenderess. He notices that she doesn’t have her hometown printed on her name tag like all the other Disneyites. She says it’s the new style. Dave asks her where she’s from. “Some little town in upstate New York,” she says. Morgan, who lives in upstate New York, asks where. And Morgan knew EXACTLY where it was. She was surprised. She also took the tip money I left. I guess she hadn’t gotten the memo. (Hey, Disney, in her defense I put it down and sprinted away before she had a chance to say no.) Somewhere around here Roger and Mary Ivy joined the party. I don’t think they had a beer in America, I think Roger bought the round in Italy which was the next country. I’m awaiting confirmation from Roger on this. I’d ask Morgan, but his recollections are as fuzzy as mine. Ok. I got a little note from Roger, so I can fill in some blanks. |
Here’s a race photo of Jeff that we saw after we got back from Disney.  Photo by Action Sports International |
So, we get to Italy and we have a selection of one. Peroni beer. Short for Pepperoni? Four of us go up to the beer counter and we ask for five beers. The bartenderess wants to see all five consumers so she can verify that we’re not contributing to the delinquencies of any minors. I probably fall down and stand back up because the bartender decides that we are indeed five. Either that or he’s seeing a bit double like I. So, Morgan hands over some money (not Roger) and tries to hand over some extra (which is refused) and we take our Peroni beers. Tastes fine. Of course, at this point, country #7, everything will taste fine. Jeff spends his time watching the Italian entertainment committee stage a production of “Romeo and Juliet” using participants from the audience. Probably a good thing that Dave, Morgan, and I weren’t aware of it.
I’m not sure if it was here (anybody noticing a pattern with my memory?) or back at the US, but Jeanne said she wasn’t going to buy Bug a US flag. She said it was a waste of $4. I give her a $20 and make her go buy an American flag. Criminy. If I can pay $4 for a Budweiser, she can buy my niece an American flag. The fact that she didn’t buy a French flag also came up at some point. She said she had picked one up earlier in the weekend. I let her slide. But just barely. After all, it wasn’t a flag buying shuffle.
“The lads are slowin’ down and some are gettin’ stuck.”
Next up is Germany. And finally a selection. This was country #8 and we hadn’t had to make a choice, not counting the Bud vs. Bud Light non-decision, since the United Kingdom way back in country #2. Dave picked a wheat beer. I don’t like wheats and I don’t like Belgians. I picked a nice dark German lager. I have no idea what Morgan picked. Given his druthers he’d of had the German version of Bud Light. Roger and MI get their second beers of the shuffle and Renate joins in with her first. I think Renate even picked up this tab.
