August
4th
West…
With
beach acceptable weather, a rare awakening of just after Stupid O’clock was
used for a trip down to the other end of New Jersey. As usual, we had selected far too many
supplies, and squeezing them all into a Korean hatchback required multiple
iterations and more than a bit of profanity to hold it all in place.
Anabelle
took up the navigator spot, partially to allow Rosa to stretch her leg out and
rest her recently broken toes, but mostly to provide travelling entertainment
by Pigeon, the dancing red river hog.
There were a few odd side glances along the way, but amazingly no
accidents down the performance strip of the Garden State Parkway.
We
had an early lunch at the first of the "large enough to be useful" sized rest
stops and reached the Tropicana well before they would allow us to check
in. They naturally made us wait on a
long line of people before telling us this, instead of posting a sign or
something. Nice.
Having
played this game before, we left everything in the car, and went back up to
grab the beach stuff after practicing for Disney lines. On the beach, as
always, Rosa tanned, Anabelle played Chopped,
and I read while trying to keep every square inch of myself out of the
sun.
This
was aided by the canopied beach chair Rosa bought right before the trip.
This
was hindered by us not noticing the missing screw in the canopy of the beach chair right before
the trip.
The
canopy fell on my head several times, reducing me to dizziness and previously used methods of hiding under
a shirt, a hat, and a towel with twenty-three gallons of sun screen spread on me. We sampled the wares of Joe, one of many
beach wandering, cooler rolling ice cream and frozen fruit salesman before the rest of my family entered the waves.
I
was too invested in my anti solar cocoon to go, and besides someone had to watch the
stuff on our non-room based beach day.
After
a while, we dusted off as much as we could (translation- a small fraction) of
the beach sand stuck to us, and went back inside to check in. Once the room was
assigned, we could grab everything else from the car and haul it into the
Havana Tower. Its location right next to the parking garage reducing the amount
of haulage needed rendered all the “which tower do we really like to stay in?”
discussions as we came in from the beach invalid.
They
cleaned the ocean debris off of themselves while I read some comic books. With only the early (and rest stop level, fast food inadequate) lunch in our systems, a decent sized dinner was required. Casa Taco met our needs once more, as I was
plied for more Disney World trivia to meet another of Anabelle’s needs. This had
become a near constant state as the trip approached.
Rosa
only ate sides, being the single member of the family who can maintain mental and
physical function on the “single meal a day” philosophy. Therefore she planned on having a funnel cake
during the post dinner Boardwalk excursion.
Expecting
to steal part of that usually mammoth fried dough offering, I passed when
Anabelle got some macarons (yay, Ladybug!) and Rosa ordered her standard, seaside flavored, roasted almonds on the way out.
The
almonds weren’t seaside flavored. They
were flavored at the seaside…
Although they were really salty, maybe they were seaside flavored?
Although they were really salty, maybe they were seaside flavored?
The
main reason for our walk, obvious to anyone who’s ever met my daughter, was a
stop at the B-Iconic “giant ring store” in the mall. (The store is small, the rings are giant.) Once again, we forgot it closes early, or
possibly doesn’t open since we’ve never been there early, on
Sundays. Since it was the summer, the
stage across from the Convention Center was occupied. Since it wasn’t late into the evening, the
occupant was not an inebriated, vulgar, disposable flatware hurling,racist. The band was quite good, and
fronted by an extremely enthusiastic and shiny woman.
Good
entertainment continued on the way back to the Tropicana. Outside one bar was a
group covering Quiet Riot. These days, you could probably get Quiet Riot for
the same price, but I guess they wanted a variety of songs.
Inside
the Trop, the casino edge bar “Tangos” continued their streak of excellent live
performances. The woman belting out a Joplin song was top notch, and waiting
for the “lottery” pull we’d inevitably lose was made easier by her
performance. What also made it easier
was me deciding -since Rosa changed her mind against the funnel cake that I
skipped dessert to sample- I was allowed to use the daily Mrs. Field’s coupon
for a chocolate chip cookie.
Me
LOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE cookies!
The
evidence that the multiple anti-sun layers I employed were as effective as ever
could be easily seen since I was wearing shorts. Anabelle helped as we went back
towards our room by serenading us with her rendition of “Strawberry Legs
Forever.”
Luckily
we were all tired; as the wall mounted TV added in the renovation prevented us from using the portable
DVD player we’d brought in the past. Viewing selections reached unprecedented levels of
dullness, as we switched back and forth between the lady with trained rats on
“America’s Run Out of People with Real Talent,” and Professional Baseball.
Baseball
is far more entertaining with my wife and daughter as they are totally
unfamiliar with it and answering their questions easily transitioned into a Bob
Newhart routine.
Anabelle
played hotel a little, since old habits die hard, but the sun and long drive of
the day meant we conked out pretty spectacularly.
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