Tomorrow’s goal: Visit Disney’s Hollywood Studios park in such a way as to maximize our chances that Jeff will still be semi-functioning at 6:00pm. This is because at 6 they turn the lights on for some sort of epic holiday kilowatt spectacular. Thing is, I’m here in the season, which will probably never happen again. Hence, I want to see it, despite my confidence that I can continue to live happily without it.
To this end, I have booked a very early dinner (3:55pm, to be precise,) at the Disney version of the Hollywood Brown Derby, on the theory that dinner will be enjoyable regardless, and surely we can find a bench to sit quietly on for an hour (give or take) afterward.
It will not work to use the plan with which I approached both today and yesterday. That is, enter the park at rope-drop, do the one “thrilling” thing I’ve selected as appropriate, and try to just relax, walk, and look at things after that. I know this will not work because, despite my efforts to keep the pace relaxed and allow for snacks and sitting, Jeff turns into a lurching zombie by mid-afternoon, and must be returned to our hotel where he basically does not recover except in that I can lead him around and point to food I place in front of him.
So...that plan: out. Possibly we will go early, walk around a bit, come back and attempt a nap. Naps don’t work with neurodegenerated people quite the same way they work with toddlers, is the problem. The most effective strategy would be to impose a sudden and drastic version of Daylight Savings Time on Florida, advancing the clock approximately 5 hours. That probably won’t get enough votes from everyone else currently occupying the state though.
Which means, I guess, that it’s Plan A. Mid-day rest. Effectiveness: iffy. Something funny happened just before I obtained our boarding passes at BWI airport on Sunday. A member of the luggage lugging crew asked me, in a thick Central American accent which took me two tries to comprehend, whether I wanted a wheelchair. I guess that’s not actually funny, but it was novel because it’s the first time I’m aware of that someone perceived Jeff as wheelchair-worthy. For tomorrow’s agenda, that might just work. Too bad he’d never go for it.
(Interestingly, I'm having all kinds of people notice his condition and strive to help this trip. From airline attendants, to people manning the ticket turnstiles at Disney Parks. You stick your pass into a slot, THEN place your finger on a print-reading device, then retrieve your ticket from the other side. They pick up on Jeff right away and say "I'll take care of it," then just move him through without the rigmarole. Also, a lady held the tram door open this afternoon when it was obvious I couldn't help Jeff step and hold it myself. Nice people.)
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