Notes from...Florida
Thinking of taking the kids to Disney? Here's my take.
These notes were written each day during a two-week holiday to Florida in October 2022. Our kids were young teens. My wife and I, blissfully happy, a year away from getting married, only a year into created a blended family. If you’re going to do Florida and Disney, here’s one way…
Day 1
Making dreams come true is potent. So getting the kids out of bed, packed and ready for this Florida adventure has had me grinning from ear to ear these past few days.
It’s official: there’s little better for pre-flight prep than an airport fry-up. Onboard our somewhat delayed (something about the left falange) jet, we’re ushered towards Row 50, past the selfie-taking champagne chuggers in business and a strong gaggle of over excited toddlers at the rear. As our three nestle in for the 9 hour Atlantic hop, behind them Em and I enjoy Branagh’s update on Death on the Nile (me more so than Em) and overindulge on sucky sweets (me more so than Em). While Em sleeps I heartily tuck into David Reynolds’ America, Empire of Liberty.
Day Ones are always long, this one more so than most. After picking up our blue whale-sized minivan and making the 23 minute journey to the Hard Rock Universal we’re now 24 hours in. Chaotic scenes at check-in summon my inner Griswold, furious that the hotelier has sold our room from underneath us, positing us in an apparently-upgraded hospitality suite for the night that consists of just one double bed for the five of us.
We finally close our eyes at 1.30am. Tomorrow, Universal Studios Orlando awaits
Day 2
Keen to put the hotel room debacle firmly behind us and throw ourselves into the day, we load up at the now-complimentary buffet breakfast and make our way to the Universal park, a stone’s throw/water taxi away.
Childless adults (not grown ups) dominate here, harking back to a simpler VHS era of Jaws, ET, Star Wars, Back to the Future. Their pithy-slogan t-shirt designs are attractions in their own right. I join in with my Walley World top, later to be acknowledged by a fellow Vacation fan.
We begin our tour with the terribly named but spectacularly executed Bourne Stuntacular, which remained a real highlight of the day. Coming into daylight, we’re suddenly in Springfield, drinking a Duff beer in Moe’s Tavern, the grumpy barman getting into the role of Moe a little too spiritedly.
Next, to the incredibly-recreated Diagon Alley, where Duds proudly enjoyed his first rollercoastery experience in the shape of Escape from Gringotts, encouraged by the promise of the world’s most expensive ice cream afterwards.
It’s hard not to be impressed by the creative engineering involved in reimagining the likes of London’s King’s Cross and downtown San Francisco. The attention to detail is incredible.
The park almost exhausted, there was still time for some fear-facing with the girls who giggled their way through the Rip Ride Rockit coaster, hands aloft, while I shouted, screamed and introduced Orlando to some new expletives.
With the park closing early to make way for hoards of scare seekers taking advantage of Universal’s Halloween Specials, we took to the hotel pool for a much needed dip and Sam Adams/Prosecco/Diet Coke. After dinner at the beach bar, punctuated by a noisy big-screen showing of Goosebumps, we raced ourselves to sleep.
Day 3
Universal Studios Orlando. Completed it, mate.
Navigating theme parks is a dark art. It demands Wincey Willis-like time-keeping (with five ‘lands’ to explore, one cannot spend four hours pouring over the intricately detailed replica Hogsmeade, AND spend 150 minutes queuing to experience the Hagrid-motorbike-themed roller coaster).
It requires Brown-like budgeting (when the cost of five Cokes equals the price of an average lunch, refillable water bottles are the order of the day).
It demands Shackleton-like map reading (the judders, tilts, spins and whizzes of the rides is enough to disorientate and confuse the most experienced orienteer-er).
Miraculously, we managed to fit everything in.
Highlights included: the bile-inducing The Hulk rollercoaster (Em), the aggressive (and lousily monikered) Velocicoaster (Tills), the mad and brilliantly realised Dr Seuss Cat in the Hat ride (Duds), the aforementioned Hogsmeade (which became a hunting ground for out of work actors in the evening, posing as Death Eaters) (Pheebs) and the stupidly quick, funny and worth-the-wait Hagrid’s Motorbike Adventure (me).
Day 4
Our fourth day was something of a hotpotch, punctuated by various meltdowns by actors in the Idle-Barsdell company. It turns out that minimal sleep is not conducive to enforced theme park fun. We’re learning, and end our night by agreeing to a compulsory lie in before taking on Mickey and Co in earnest.
After nipping back into Universal to mop up any as yet un-experienced experiences (up to fly around Hogwarts Castle and into the studio lot for an amusing take down of horror-film make-up) we rocked out of Hard Rock and made tracks for I-40 heading south towards our villa near Kissimmee.
En route, we make for Walmart, an unexpected highlight for the kids keen to stock up on candy they’ve seen on Tik Tok. Em’s meltdown coinciding with the supermarket sweep meant we were left to our own devices, filling the trolley with little substance and protein, and too many biscuits, sweets and beer.
At Champions Gate, we tumble into a Truman Show-esque housing development where all the dwellings look the same. Same whitewash frontage, same double drive and garage. Same mesh fenced-in swimming pool. Same lizards making hay in the grass. After the busyness of Hard Rock, I’m happy for the quiet.
That quiet was soon pierced as we ventured to Magic Kingdom for an evening of over-priced buffet at the Liberty Tree Tavern, and watching the Main Street fireworks, the sight of which made Em cry. That was rather lovely. My eyes were still watering from the food bill.
Day 5
Our self enforced lie in worked. Somewhat revived by a lazy morning and a dip in the pool, we make our way to Hollywood Studios for lunchtime. Much smaller than Magic Kingdom (with a much more sensible walking time from car to entrance), this place is a heady, Art Deco infused affair, drawing an older crowd with the promise of Star Wars lands.
First, we slot in to the watch the slightly tired Indiana Jones stunt show and then the even more tired (yet made better by Waldorf and Stadtler - love those guys) Muppets 3D Show.
The previous night, as we exhausted the smart Guest Services guy with questions about how to use the stupidly complicated Genie+ app, we were told the Star Wars: Rise of the Resistance ride was the “best ever”. We were excited. The 90 minute wait, however, meant we’d save it for another day. Instead, we got our kicks on Star Tours and the Millennium Falcon Smugglers Run.
I hadn’t really considered just how great it is to immersively step into some of cinema’s greatest scenes. Penk and I must have watched A New Hope a thousand times growing up. And here I am, sat on board the Falcon, jumping the light speed. Similarly, after watching plenty of Potter with the kids these past few years, it was absolutely thrilling to whizz around Hogwarts and take part in a game of quidditch. I hadn’t expected to enjoy these parks as much as I have.
After a tear jerking (Em, again) performance of Beauty and the Beast, and a photo opp with Mickey and Minnie (the dullest of Disney characters, who can’t even be bothered to wander the parks anymore; you have to queue up to ‘meet’ them), we headed home.
As I went to bed, I could feel something brewing. My throat was closing up. I’m struggling to swallow. I think I might have Covid. Again. Oh joy.
Day 6
My worst fears confirmed, I wake to a mouth full of phlegm and a golf ball stuck down by where my tonsils should be (they were removed in 2012). At least that’s what it felt like.
While the kids slept, I went in search of a walk-in clinic. The Buena Vista Health Care Clinic is happy to have me for £250. It’s a 20 minute wait to see the doc, so I take my seat in the smart and shiny foyer. As I fill in the 65 forms asking for Covid jab info, health history, and signatures to keep the lawyers at bay, in walks a young Latino chap. He’s shaking, and holding his palm to his cheek.
“Excuse me ma’am,” he says to the receptionist, “but I’ve been bitten by a dog and I think I’m going to pass out.”
Without looking up at him from her computer screen, she replies, “Okay. You got any ID?” He confirms he has, indeed, got ID and I invite him to take my chair. I sit next to him, rub his back and tell him to breathe. And keep breathing. If you keep breathing, you won’t pass out, I tell him. The lack of compassion from anybody in the clinic sends me into Florence Nightingale mode and I keep rubbing his back. He thanks me and within a couple of minutes he’s ushered through to the docs to be patched up. I wonder if he has insurance. And if not, what his chance K9 encounter will set him back.
Thank fuck for the NHS, I think.
My name is called and I’m in a back room waiting for Dr Chinos to arrive. Encanto plays loudly on the corner TV screen to remind me that we’re a spit away from Disney World. Dr Chinos comes in, I sit on the bed, he tells me my throat is angry and that I have strep throat. Another $70 is extracted from my account and I walk out with steroids and antibiotics.
I meet up with the gang at Typhoon Lagoon where they attack the giant wave machine and all I can cope with is the lazy river. I feel drunk. My skin is lively and sensitive to the slightest touch. This infection’s got me good.
I feel bad that I’m not on top form for Em’s birthday, but hopefully the evenings antics will make up for my lack of vigour. We head for a surprise visit to Disney Springs, and buzz through the crowds to the giant Planet Hollywood. Over dinner we present Em with her final present: tickets to Cirque du Soleil’s Drawn to Life, a truly brilliant circus performance centred around the story of a young girl desperate to be an animator. Loved it.
We head to bed. I pop more pills and pray that I’ll feel better tomorrow as our Disney adventure continues.
Day 7
The drugs really work. I wake after Em (a rarity), swallow to test my current status. No pain. I sit up and feel like a brand new man. I skip downstairs to tell the world and find Em and Duds in the pool. I jump in and smile and hug them both. These drugs are really good.
Pheebs arrives, still reeling from her catastrophic fall while doing running races back to the car with Duds the previous evening. Scabs are about to form on her knees and hands, bless her. Uber delivers us a McDonalds breakfast by the pool and we plot our day, back at Magic Kingdom. I keep swallowing to check I’m still alright.
We arrive just in time for the crowds to swell to their lunchtime peak and work out how to optimise our time. I’m thankful to be eased into the day with some rides for little people: Pirates of the Caribbean and It’s a Small World. We speed things up somewhat at Space Mountain and then I’m transported back to 1987 at Thunder Mountain, one of very few memories from when I came here as a kid.
The Monsters Inc Laugh Factory had us in stitches, the spectacular night time fireworks had Em (and Pheebs, this time) in buckets of tears, and the Cephalexin and Prednisone have kept me upright and smiling all day. God bless America and its stupidly powerful medication.
One of a few highlights of the day happens as we exit by the gift shop on heading home. After searching high and low for Robin Hood merch, finally…a pin badge. It might not be much, but it’s proof that Disney did in fact make Robin Hood (it’s best movie to date) despite the corporation’s best efforts to erase it from existence at these parks.
Tomorrow, Animal Kingdom awaits.
Day 8
Today continuously tricked the mind. Animal Kingdom is a giant zoo. But it’s a Disney zoo. So you’re never quite sure whether what you’re looking at is real, super imposed, animatronic, 3-D gadgetry, or something else.
A highlight of the Gorilla Falls experience was the chance to see hippos up close, the window showcasing both above and below water views to get a glimpse of these magnificent beasts. As one floated past, I couldn’t quite process what I was seeing, my brain having been triggered by such realistic fakeness these past seven days. Love a hippo, though.
It was the same on the African Safari. Zebras, lions, elephants, antelope, cheetah, rhino all gave us the eye: a result of Walt’s impressive breeding and conservation programme or just another magic trick, who knows?
The very fast and funny Everest Expedition coaster gave my mind some welcome relief (never thought I’d say that).
But on entering Pandora, the world made famous by James Cameron’s Avatar, the mind frazzled once more. Floating rock formations dominate the sky here. Impossible-to-identify plant species have taken root. Everything looks slightly squiffy. Normal, and yet not normal at all. It’s remarkable. The Flight of Passage ride, where you ride on the shoulders of a living, breathing banshee, certainly lived up to the hype. And the gentle Na’avi River Journey immersed ourselves further into Pandora, prompting a note-to-self to rewatch the film again ahead of the new one coming out soon.
Exiting through the gift shop saw the kids buy their very own Avatar dolls (based on their own image - very cool) and banshees. For dinner, the Rainforest Cafe sated our big appetites (if not a need for some reality).
To confuse my brain further, Em decided to pin a giant birthday badge on her dress. She’d picked it up earlier in the day at one of the shops. No idea why. Her birthday was two days ago. But there she sat, bold as brass, as our waitress dished her up with a free dessert, candle flickering, while six of her fellow waiters sang a birthday song. She should have been ashamed of herself, but no she just lapped up the ‘magic’ of it all. I think we’ve been here too long.
Day 9
Today was something of an interlude. A chance to catch a breath, be relieved of the magic and step out of the kingdoms of dreams.
We headed east to Merritt Island and stumbled into a giant discount bookstore called Books-A-Million, lumped on to the edge of a mall. I once said to the kids that no matter what the cost or frequency, I will buy them whatever books they fancy. Always. It’s the best deal I ever struck so infrequently do they stick their nose in a book. But here they were, all searching for something suitable. They sat quietly reading their books throughout the rest of the 12 minute journey to Kennedy Space Centre, which was a real highlight.
The Kennedy Space Centre drew its dissenters throughout the day from various family members. Em was the most vocal of these, seemingly uneasy about the lack of stardust in the air and Disney theme tunes pouring into our ears.
I kept reminding her that this was a place of huge historical significance, not just for Americans but for the whole world. Thousands of space missions have launched from this very spot. It’s the home of the historic Atlantis, a first of its kind space shuttle whose ginormous carcass hangs high over us in one of the massive hangars. It’s not a theme park but a museum. A really good museum. But no. The ‘rides’ were not slick enough. The simulators not realistic enough. Armstrong and co would be turning in their graves. At least Em didn’t pretend it was her birthday.
On the drive back, the Chrysler got caught speeding. The policeman, a slightly tougher-looking Rich Taylor, gave me a ticking off for driving too quickly and spouted some nonsense about being arrested on arrival at Heathrow had I been unfortunate enough to have been stopped by somebody more horrible than he.
With the evening still young, once home we hopped in trunks and headed to the local Oasis pool and club round the corner. Thankfully, the hallowe’en celebrations were waning as we arrived, so all that was left to do was tuck into the local brew and burgers before a nightcap at our own place.
Day 10
Despite the fairly short evenings here (the sun sets by 6.30pm), the days go on long. We’re cramming so much in, and it becomes harder to take stock, remembering what we’ve seen and heard, the rides we’ve been on, the people we’ve met, the experiences we’ve had. That’s what social media helps with, I guess.
Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow, or Epcot, is a much quieter and sedate experience than we’ve been used to. One of the smiley photographers we ask to capture our image in front of the giant ball made famous by this place tells us that the week between Halloween and Thanksgiving is the most quiet of the year. “It’s blissful,” she says.
Guardians of the Galaxy is the latest franchise to create a ride extension. Cosmic Rewind is a lively affair, a coaster than turns and skids somehow while riding through the stars. It’s fun; an update on Space Mountain, and certainly a hit with the girls who take the time to re-do it later in the day.
Next, we’re thrust into a space launch simulator, called Mission: SPACE. Tightly fitted into a capsule with a computer screen inches from our noses, I don’t really know what happened to me on this one. Somehow, they gave us a G-force feeling, our cheeks distorted and my chest about to burst. I came out feeling sick as a dog, a feeling that maintained for the rest of the day.
Elsewhere, we soared around the world, saw a real life Nemo and Dory at the huge aquarium, had lunch 220 miles up in the air at Space 220, learned more about Walt’s conservation efforts (while drinking from plastic straws) and began a global tour at World Showcase.
Then, just like that, we ran out of time. Dark descended, the fireworks started, I drank a warm beer, the kids supped on seriously expensive Coke, and then we headed home, exhausted once more.
Day 11
Today, I got my kicks by showing Disney Cast Members (staff) my Robin Hood badge and asking whether they could name the film.
Not one of them could.
“But you work for Disney, don’t you?” I said, my smugness getting the better of me. “Yes sir, but I just can’t place it right now!” Tut, tut.
We were back in Hollywood Studios, stylised to take us back to the 1950s and the golden age of cinema. The Tower of Terror taps into this ideal perfectly, immersively conjuring up a tale of horror inside the once-glamorous building before plunging us into the darkness of a lift shaft. We recovered with Lightning McQueen and the gang, then the girls jumped onto Aerosmith’s Rock n’ Roller Coaster, an homage to the band.
After a Frozen sing-a-long (what a film that is!) we lunch at the Sci-Fi Dine-In Theatre, a brilliantly recreated drive-in complete with open-top Cadillacs; the kids portions here are more than enough for me.
Then, we’re in the world of Woody and Buzz, and enjoy Mickey and Minnie’s Runaway Train. Still haven’t worked out what Mickey is all about. As Disney’s poster boy, surely he should have an ounce of personality. He’s not smart, funny, charming, witty. He’s just Mickey. And everybody loves him. Why?
Galaxy’s Edge is the park’s Star Wars land. And it is so incredibly imagined that you are actually in Star Wars. The buildings, the walls, the floor, the stalls selling soft drinks, the spaceships, the droids; everywhere you look is out of this world. Literally.
The star of the show is the not-quite-ride, not-quite-anything-I’ve-experienced before Rise of the Resistance attraction. Over a three-act narrative arc, it’s part simulator, part live action experience, part walk-through, part, well, something else. I’m not even going to try to describe it here as I won’t do it justice. I’m not easily impressed, but the chance to actually be involved in scenes from Star Wars in a totally authentic way had me buzzing.
To top off another great day, the kids took up the chance to create their very own droids. What could have been a bit naff turned out to be a wonderful experience as the three of them chose their own parts, screwed them all together, and gave life to their little R2 and BB units. The cost was eye-watering, and as I watched hundreds of fans, young and old, stream out of the Droid Depot carrying their little creations, I couldn’t help but be impressed with Disney’s commercial nous. It’s something else.
Day 12
A day of two halves, this one.
The late morning was welcome and by the time we arrived in Norway for the Epcot-shaped Frozen boat trip through Arendelle we had already tucked into our cheese and ham packed lunch sarnies.
Em and I would have had fun drinking our way around the world here like many others (another time, perhaps). Instead, we shopped for a bit (stumbling across a $400 oil painting of Prince John and Sir Hiss) before making our way through Japan, Germany and France, and on to the UK.
The staff within Epcot’s countries are, in fact, natives of each. We gave a wry chuckle on passing the chatty northerner working in the store selling QEII mementoes and little else, located opposite the rather authentic Rose and Crown pub. It’s a strange place, but I like it.
Before exiting there’s time to head into space again on the 40-year-old Spaceship Earth ride that takes you into the giant golf ball. There’s plenty to admire, not least evidence of Walt’s original, well intentioned mission for his parks to educate the masses a bit. And then sell them shit loads of toys, of course.
***
A five minute drive and we’re back in Magic Kingdom, home to the castle that makes Em cry, every time she looks at it. We mop up what hasn’t yet been experienced, Splash Mountain, and the Seven Dwarves Mine Coaster included.
We then toyed with the idea of following through on a silly-expensive Disney dinner booking at the Beauty and the Beast castle. We head in and wonder whether Duds and Tills can pass for under 10s, so we only have to pay for three adult meals. We can’t. Or at least, we can’t bear the embarrassment of being told we can’t, or the wallet busting £85 per head bill at the end of it all.
“Em, I think we could only really justify the cost if we had two little girls, aged, say 6 or 7, all dressed up like princesses, and it was their absolute dream to be like Belle. Don’t you think?”
Em looks back at me, giving me the eyes. In her head, she is that princess. And I’ve just shat all over her dreams. Sensible heads ruled and we dance out of the castle, grab a pizza, and catch the end of the fireworks. Em cries. Again.
It’s been another terrific day. Not ‘parked out’ whatsoever. Tomorrow we head back north along International Drive for some water park fun at Volcano Bay.
Day 13
We have another 40 hours here in Orlando, yet our meal at Reggiano’s - nestled in the heart of Celebration, a film set-like town built by the Disney Corporation back in the 90s - feels like the last supper. We’re all a bit tanned. Our hearts are full, as are our minds with memories, our bellies with lovely Italian fayre, our faces with stupids grins. We like it here.
We’d had a day at Volcano Bay, the water park attached to Universal. We were last here about a month ago (at least that’s what it feels like). It is crowdless, so the kids skip between the flumes as Em and I try to catch some rays in between the clouds; haven’t seen many of them these past two weeks. The aftertaste of my lunchtime Bud Light remains, my new book remains shut, and we join the kids for a spin through the rapids before closing.
In plotting out our remaining time here, there are a few requests. As well as last minute purchases for school mates (and crushes), there is an ask to find some cans of Prime (no idea) and a new suitcase (to transport home the many droids, dolls, books, jumpers, t-shirts bought thus far). Oh, and Em must see the castle again so she can cry some more.
Tomorrow is our last full day.
Day 14
Our final full day here saw us in search of new luggage at Target, a US version of The Range where Thanksgiving decorations vie for space with Hersey’s Kisses and copies of the National Enquirer. I’m tempted by a copy of Bono’s Surrender but decide against it given our suitcase weights are at their limit.
We lunch at McDonald’s on the side of the freeway and remember a time when being on the other side of the Atlantic meant things looked and tasted slightly different. Not anymore. The double quarter pounder with cheese is the same as it ever was in Maidstone.
Back in Hollywood Studios we mooch between stores and patiently await the evening’s showing of Fantasmic, a Mickey dominated music and fireworks extravaganza at the 7,000-seat amphitheatre in the ‘Hollywood Hills’. The half hour show had us singing, oohing and aaahing. Still no idea why Mickey is so popular. Still no sign of Robin Hood. Or Bedknobs and Broomsticks. At least Mary Poppins put in an appearance.
We gained access to Oga’s Cantina for a night cap. The Star Wars themed bar - you know, the one where Luke meets Han and Chewie for the first time - didn’t have much to say, but Em enjoyed the well-named cocktails. My bourbon ‘Jet Juice’ hit the spot too.
Tomorrow we fly home.
Final note
All good things must end.
While the girls mope about heading home, Duds and I are upbeat. I always feel the same at the end of a break, keen to reset back into routine and familiarity, full of new energy and appetite to work well and enjoy the simple things. I feel the same now.
This holiday has been very special. I had low expectations for spending two weeks at Disney. I knew Em and the kids would love it, but I wasn’t sure whether I’d be theme-parked to death. As it turned out, I loved the parks. And I loved every minute of everything we ended up doing here.
On reflection, little of this happiness had to do with Walt’s parks, and everything to do with the company; our little tribe, the gang, the Idle-Barsdells, my family.
It’s been a real privilege spending such an intense time with our three little people, especially at this time in their lives, as they continue to grow up, find their way in the world, learn about themselves and others.
Thanks to Tills for bringing the ridiculous, random and questions, questions, questions.
Thanks to Pheebs for bringing the fun, funny and being constantly upbeat (well, for the most part).
Thanks to Dudley, my best mate, for bringing the sarcasm, wit and sanity.
Thanks to Em for bringing your relentless energy, love and positivity. You’ve cried a lot these past two weeks, but in the best possible way.
You are all gorgeous and I am so very lucky to have you in my life.
Thank you x