We're Baaaaaack....
From Florida!!!
We arrived back this morning, to dreary weather in England. The Tall Guy and I are currently suffering from Post-Holiday Depression. Sigh. We are reviewing plans to move to Florida... permanently.
I really hate post-holiday ramblings, but hopefully, this encapsulates our experiences for you. I must warn you though, it’s a long old snooze fest, so you need to make sure you have plenty of caffeine.
Karen and Paul’s Bogus Journey To Florida
Karen and Paul landed at Florida International Airport in the afternoon, and went through stomach clenching security checks that took the better part of 1.5hrs. May all terrorists burn in hell you mother-f*ckers.
Went to the shuttle counter as per their First Choice Holidays instructions, and asked for the transfer to their allocated hotel.
Shuttle company didn’t know anything about them, so they had to pay. Fucking First Choice Holidays. Sigh.
Their coach driver was a wonderful big black woman named Tammy, who was just lovely. (So worth the $10 tip)
Arrived at the Hotel drenched in sweat. It was a shit-hole. It looked nothing like the brochure. Fucking First Choice Holidays. Sigh.
There was a dead fly on the ceiling, (hello?) the carpet looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned since the early 70’s, and the bathroom also had a microwave oven in it. Fucking First Choice Holidays. Sigh.
Karen told Paul that she was not going to spend the next two weeks in low quality accommodation, and that if he wanted any sex this holiday, something would have to be done about it.
Paul immediately took Karen hotel-shopping for alternative accommodation in the less touristy part of International Drive.
At one point, they were so desperate, they were almost willing to book one of the rooms at the Embassy Suites, at the rate of $150 per night, which would have meant that they would end up spending an additional $2000 on a holiday that they’d already paid for.
Karen came to her senses after her hypnotic visons of sleeping in the comfortable, clean, fly-free rooms, and they both continued with their search for somewhere to stay.
They happened upon the Radisson on I-Drive, and promptly fell in love with the business suites there. They specifically asked not to be put in a tourist shithole room (of which there were many).
Search over.
Karen and Paul went back to the rat-infested, shit-hole, and gingerly crawled into bed, looking out for any unwelcome bed-mates.
Karen woke up at 4.30am, due to her fucked-up body clock, woke Paul up, and insisted that he call Fucking First Choice Holidays.
Paul duly called them, blasted them about the hotel, and told them that they needed to organise the accommodation at the Radisson, and that they would be willing to pay the upgrade costs.
The F*ck-wit on the other end of the line, apologised profusely, and tried shifting the blame onto Virgin Holidays.
Karen and Paul transferred from the Shit-Hole Hotel to the wonderful Radisson.
Their holiday could now begin in earnest.
THE HOLIDAY
They took lots of pictures.
Spent shitloads of money on crap,
Avoided other British tourists where possible.
Paul picked up a transatlantic accent, for which, Karen dutifully took the piss out of him.
Ate lots of junk food. Denny’s was a particular breakfast favourite.
Avoided scummy touristy restaurants such as Sizzlers and Ponderosa due to the fact that all the Brits had taken up permanent residence there, with their pale skins and ugly tattoos.
Paid $96 for a steak from Charlie’s Steak House. According to Russell (the waiter), they were “Number one in Florida, number two in the US” I didn’t ask him how they could possibly know that, but any restaurant that blithely charged $96 for steak, obviously knew a thing or two about (ripping people off) self-promotion.
The steak was nice though.
Paul took Karen to the gangster-ridden Citrus Bowl football stadium. They later found out that a cop had been shot there, the week before. Good to know.
Karen and Paul wanted to go to Miami, but Hurricane Rita was too near there, so they decided not to.
They spent a day at the beach in Clearwater which was heavenly. Being stupid Brits, they had planned a day at the beach, but somehow had not thought to take any bathing stuff with them, thus ended up spending a further $70 on bathing suits. Arseholes. Sigh.
Paul took Karen to the Raymond James Stadium, home to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers (Grrrr to Malcolm Glazier, and no, we don’t want Sven Goran-Eriksson to replace Sir Alex Ferguson). Karen thought it was ummm… interesting. Paul loved it.
A Security guard at the stadium informed them that they were trespassing, and that the pictures they had taken had to be destroyed (along with the other holiday pics).
Karen gasped out loud, and was about to launch into a tirade at the security guard when she noticed that he was winking. He was just joking. Bastard.
Karen and Paul did all the main theme parks.
Seaworld and Busch Gardens were firm favourites.
Karen especially loved the Shamu Killer Whale show, and the Dolphins (gush, gush)
Karen and Paul went on a rollercoaster called Sheikra (Busch Gardens) which had a 90o drop, and Karen nearly threw up on Paul. She loved it so much, she let Paul talk her into riding it a further three times. Sigh.
Disney World was an expensive let-down, but they loved the Reflections of Earth Fireworks and Soarin’ at Epcot.
The Kennedy Space Centre was really interesting. Paul took 96 photographs at that one attraction. Can we say, over-kill? Spotted a Floridian Bald Eagle whilst they were there. Happy sigh.
Wet and Wild was… well… wet and wild.
Paul and Karen evilly took great pleasure in making fun of some of the American dialects. See examples below:
Texan Lady at Sea World : “Which way to Shamoh?” She was asking directions to the Shamu show. Karen and Paul repeated this line till the end of the holiday, collapsing hysterically into laughter, each and every time it was said. Yes, they were ridiculously childish. No offense to any Texans out there (g).
Red-neck lady/man, (wasn’t sure what it was) at toll booth on the 528 highway. “Seeeeveeenty-farve!” When asked how much the toll was. She/he had teeth missing too. Perfect.
Annoying Latin Disney promotions lady on the TV “It was all up in my blurd” whilst talking about salsa dancing in Downtown Disney.
We Would Like To Thank...
All in all they had a fantastically wicked time, and would like to send out their thanx to the following people:
The Lady who told them not to bother with the Earthquake attraction at Universal Studios because it wasn’t worth the 45 wait. Oh how right you were….
Tammy, the coach driver who was sweating more than they were, but still managed top help them with their luggage, and make their journey enjoyable.
The Breakfast Servers at all three Denny’s on International Drive. You were all bloody wonderful.
Vick at the Radisson on I-Drive. If Karen wasn’t married…
To the Texan Woman, who asked them for directions to the Shamu the Killer Whale show, for providing them with no-end of hilarity for the duration of the holiday.
Steve and Barry’s collegiate clothes shop, for not stocking any item of clothing costing over $10. Our families will reap the rewards for the next three birthdays and Christmases.
To the girl at the Borders book shop on Sand Lake Road who recommended Lisa Valdez's Passion. You rocked, even if the book proves to be a snooze-fest.
We arrived back this morning, to dreary weather in England. The Tall Guy and I are currently suffering from Post-Holiday Depression. Sigh. We are reviewing plans to move to Florida... permanently.
I really hate post-holiday ramblings, but hopefully, this encapsulates our experiences for you. I must warn you though, it’s a long old snooze fest, so you need to make sure you have plenty of caffeine.
Karen and Paul’s Bogus Journey To Florida
Karen and Paul landed at Florida International Airport in the afternoon, and went through stomach clenching security checks that took the better part of 1.5hrs. May all terrorists burn in hell you mother-f*ckers.
Went to the shuttle counter as per their First Choice Holidays instructions, and asked for the transfer to their allocated hotel.
Shuttle company didn’t know anything about them, so they had to pay. Fucking First Choice Holidays. Sigh.
Their coach driver was a wonderful big black woman named Tammy, who was just lovely. (So worth the $10 tip)
Arrived at the Hotel drenched in sweat. It was a shit-hole. It looked nothing like the brochure. Fucking First Choice Holidays. Sigh.
There was a dead fly on the ceiling, (hello?) the carpet looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned since the early 70’s, and the bathroom also had a microwave oven in it. Fucking First Choice Holidays. Sigh.
Karen told Paul that she was not going to spend the next two weeks in low quality accommodation, and that if he wanted any sex this holiday, something would have to be done about it.
Paul immediately took Karen hotel-shopping for alternative accommodation in the less touristy part of International Drive.
At one point, they were so desperate, they were almost willing to book one of the rooms at the Embassy Suites, at the rate of $150 per night, which would have meant that they would end up spending an additional $2000 on a holiday that they’d already paid for.
Karen came to her senses after her hypnotic visons of sleeping in the comfortable, clean, fly-free rooms, and they both continued with their search for somewhere to stay.
They happened upon the Radisson on I-Drive, and promptly fell in love with the business suites there. They specifically asked not to be put in a tourist shithole room (of which there were many).
Search over.
Karen and Paul went back to the rat-infested, shit-hole, and gingerly crawled into bed, looking out for any unwelcome bed-mates.
Karen woke up at 4.30am, due to her fucked-up body clock, woke Paul up, and insisted that he call Fucking First Choice Holidays.
Paul duly called them, blasted them about the hotel, and told them that they needed to organise the accommodation at the Radisson, and that they would be willing to pay the upgrade costs.
The F*ck-wit on the other end of the line, apologised profusely, and tried shifting the blame onto Virgin Holidays.
Karen and Paul transferred from the Shit-Hole Hotel to the wonderful Radisson.
Their holiday could now begin in earnest.
THE HOLIDAY
They took lots of pictures.
Spent shitloads of money on crap,
Avoided other British tourists where possible.
Paul picked up a transatlantic accent, for which, Karen dutifully took the piss out of him.
Ate lots of junk food. Denny’s was a particular breakfast favourite.
Avoided scummy touristy restaurants such as Sizzlers and Ponderosa due to the fact that all the Brits had taken up permanent residence there, with their pale skins and ugly tattoos.
Paid $96 for a steak from Charlie’s Steak House. According to Russell (the waiter), they were “Number one in Florida, number two in the US” I didn’t ask him how they could possibly know that, but any restaurant that blithely charged $96 for steak, obviously knew a thing or two about (ripping people off) self-promotion.
The steak was nice though.
Paul took Karen to the gangster-ridden Citrus Bowl football stadium. They later found out that a cop had been shot there, the week before. Good to know.
Karen and Paul wanted to go to Miami, but Hurricane Rita was too near there, so they decided not to.
They spent a day at the beach in Clearwater which was heavenly. Being stupid Brits, they had planned a day at the beach, but somehow had not thought to take any bathing stuff with them, thus ended up spending a further $70 on bathing suits. Arseholes. Sigh.
Paul took Karen to the Raymond James Stadium, home to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers (Grrrr to Malcolm Glazier, and no, we don’t want Sven Goran-Eriksson to replace Sir Alex Ferguson). Karen thought it was ummm… interesting. Paul loved it.
A Security guard at the stadium informed them that they were trespassing, and that the pictures they had taken had to be destroyed (along with the other holiday pics).
Karen gasped out loud, and was about to launch into a tirade at the security guard when she noticed that he was winking. He was just joking. Bastard.
Karen and Paul did all the main theme parks.
Seaworld and Busch Gardens were firm favourites.
Karen especially loved the Shamu Killer Whale show, and the Dolphins (gush, gush)
Karen and Paul went on a rollercoaster called Sheikra (Busch Gardens) which had a 90o drop, and Karen nearly threw up on Paul. She loved it so much, she let Paul talk her into riding it a further three times. Sigh.
Disney World was an expensive let-down, but they loved the Reflections of Earth Fireworks and Soarin’ at Epcot.
The Kennedy Space Centre was really interesting. Paul took 96 photographs at that one attraction. Can we say, over-kill? Spotted a Floridian Bald Eagle whilst they were there. Happy sigh.
Wet and Wild was… well… wet and wild.
Paul and Karen evilly took great pleasure in making fun of some of the American dialects. See examples below:
Texan Lady at Sea World : “Which way to Shamoh?” She was asking directions to the Shamu show. Karen and Paul repeated this line till the end of the holiday, collapsing hysterically into laughter, each and every time it was said. Yes, they were ridiculously childish. No offense to any Texans out there (g).
Red-neck lady/man, (wasn’t sure what it was) at toll booth on the 528 highway. “Seeeeveeenty-farve!” When asked how much the toll was. She/he had teeth missing too. Perfect.
Annoying Latin Disney promotions lady on the TV “It was all up in my blurd” whilst talking about salsa dancing in Downtown Disney.
We Would Like To Thank...
All in all they had a fantastically wicked time, and would like to send out their thanx to the following people:
The Lady who told them not to bother with the Earthquake attraction at Universal Studios because it wasn’t worth the 45 wait. Oh how right you were….
Tammy, the coach driver who was sweating more than they were, but still managed top help them with their luggage, and make their journey enjoyable.
The Breakfast Servers at all three Denny’s on International Drive. You were all bloody wonderful.
Vick at the Radisson on I-Drive. If Karen wasn’t married…
To the Texan Woman, who asked them for directions to the Shamu the Killer Whale show, for providing them with no-end of hilarity for the duration of the holiday.
Steve and Barry’s collegiate clothes shop, for not stocking any item of clothing costing over $10. Our families will reap the rewards for the next three birthdays and Christmases.
To the girl at the Borders book shop on Sand Lake Road who recommended Lisa Valdez's Passion. You rocked, even if the book proves to be a snooze-fest.
To the woman at the Barnes and Noble Book shop on Orange Blossom Trail who visibly shuddered when Karen asked her if they stocked Elloras Cave Books. Karen really appreciated your professionalism. Not.
To the girl at Saks Fifth Avenue, who complimented Karen on her attire with no ulterior selling motives. She’s so vain, that you made her day.
The Guy at Dollar Car Rentals, who told them that they could turn right when the traffic signals were at red. Thank you, thank you!
Their waitress at Dan Marino’s Tavern at Pointe Orlando. She was terrifically good fun.
The coaches for the Tallahassee high school swim team, and Bob (who was ‘just a parent’) who stayed at the Radisson on Friday evening. Thanks for the muffins, Gatorade, and the George Bush conversation.
The automatic Cherokee Jeep, that took them everywhere, and didn’t take more than $40 to fill up. Karen insists that Paul should now buy an automatic vehicle. Manual cars are the pits.
And finally, to Fiona and Rob (honeymooners) who they met standing in line, whilst waiting to be checked in at the Virgin Atlantic desk. You made the 1.5 hour wait, seem shorter than it was. Thanx guys.
Well, that’s it folks, I will issue photographs once we are better organised…. So, did y’all miss me? Any scandals that I should know about?
posted by Karen Scott at
7:47 pm
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