Orlando part 2

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We stopped a few times for bathroom breaks and at a cluster of fast food restaurants somewhere south of Atlanta for lunch. Just before the Florida line James stopped to refuel at an older, run-down TA truck stop and I’d venture to say that it was the first time most of the kids had ever been in a truck stop bathroom. Even some of the boys came out wide-eyed and holding their noses. It takes a lot to make a teenage boy notice a nasty smell (more on that later).

The closer we got to Orlando, the more excited we all got. I was once again stressed over James’ apparent lack of understanding of Toll Booths. He never seemed to know which lane to get in, never had the right change, and once drove through without paying, saying simply “I’ve already paid enough.” I’ll be curious how the charter service feels about that when they get the ticket.

I had noticed that although he was using a GPS, he didn’t seem to understand it well. At one point, after pushing buttons and not finding the answer he wanted, he took it off its cradle and laid it in his lap. Occasionally I could hear the muffled sound of a female voice telling him what lane to be in or where to turn, so I assumed that both it and he knew where we were going.

The GPS informed us that we had reached our destination at the bottom of a ramp in downtown Orlando next to a lovely, landscaped pond with sparkling fountains and a nice walking track around its perimeter. I had been to Orlando enough to know that we were still miles from our hotel, but James kept looking around as if the entrance was going to rise out of the water and a doorman would step out to tell him to park on the grass.

Our choir director and her mother were sitting in the seats across from Connie and me. They too realized that we were apparently lost and made some quick phone calls, getting directions which took us down roads most tourists never see. Disney, it was not.

We arrived at the Florida Mall Hotel and Convention Center around 6:30pm. Oddly, in the way that most things in Florida seem kind of odd and different from the rest of the nation, the Hotel was actually a part of the mall. After dropping our bags off in our perfectly sufficient sleeping rooms, we met in the lobby to go to dinner. The back of the lobby opened up into the expansive mall and we followed our tour guide past department stores, specialty stores and jewelry kiosks through what seemed like two or three Tennessee sized malls, until we reached one of my favorite fun places to eat: Buca di Beppo.

I first visited a Buca in Washington DC, and felt like I’d walked into a Dean Martin movie or one of the lighter episodes of The Sopranos. Their garlic bread is addictive, and the meatballs are the size of baby heads. In fact, I’ve tried to use that as the description enough that I hope to someday change the language of their menu. I can see it now: Spaghetti with a side of a “baby head meatballs.”

Between the atmosphere and the great service, the exhaustion of the long ride drifted away. Laughter and conversation filled the room. The food at Buca is served “family style,” so they kept bringing out bowls of bread, delicious salad, pasta and Chicken Parmesan. For dessert we were served cheesecake, and by then we weren’t sure we could walk back to our rooms.

Curfew was announced as 11pm, which gave the kids about two hours after we returned from dinner. This allowed the kids to mingle, but with certain specific restrictions. No one could go anywhere without a “buddy.” They could not leave the hotel. Kids found outside of their rooms alone would be punished with immediate curfew. Boys were allowed in girl’s rooms and vice versa, but the outer doors must be completely open. Any infraction of this rule would result in immediate curfew for all involved (and possible flogging if my daughter were in the room).

Unlike my usual and frequent stays in hotels, I realized that I could not simply come into my room and relax. I couldn’t kick off my shoes and lounge on the bed. As a chaperone, I had to be available. We had to leave our door open. We had to check the halls and make sure the rules were being adhered to. This was actually like work!

We were very lucky, however, since our trip fell during March Madness. The boys congregated in their rooms, cheering their teams (but not too loudly). A few of the girls ventured in, but the doors stayed open and nothing inappropriate was occurring. Finally, eleven o’clock arrived and we did our final room check. Connie and I were assigned four rooms with four boys in each. They were incredibly respectful, calling us “Mr. Warford” and “Mrs. Warford.” It was very strange, and although I still didn’t trust them with my daughters, I was beginning to like them. A little bit.

Connie and I had taken one look at our room and decided that we would each have our own bed. We have grown spoiled with a larger bed, and these rooms provided only full sized beds. We had basically cuddled all day on the cramped bus, so we were ready for some space to kick around and stretch. As we lay in our separate beds, watching the strangers on the Orlando local news, I felt like Rob and Laura Petrie from The Dick Van Dyke Show.

It struck me too that in each of the four rooms around us, there were two sets of high school boys trying to comfortably sleep in these small beds. I could only imagine how awkward that must have been. God forbid you wake up spooning. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself as I stretched out and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.



…to be continued