It’s Difficult to Sit Still for Leisure Time

Recently I came to the conclusion that I was in need of some leisure time.

True, a few co-workers, family members and several complete strangers had pointed this out to me--something to the effect that I looked a little on edge, sunken eyed and possibly delusional--but let’s just say that I was too busy to pay these Chicken Littles much heed.

Then my sister called, parroting the same line. She said that I could “use a break,” preferably in the company of those I love. She said that she just happened to be attending a convention in Orlando and “naturally” figured that she’d take along her 5-year-old son.

So I asked the obvious question, “Why would you figure that ?”

But let’s just say that I was weakened, hounded by images of a faraway Disney empire, live alligator wrestling and the possibility of my nephew holding this missed opportunity over my daughter’s head for the rest of her life.

So we went to Orlando, my 5-year-old and I, to met up with my nephew, my sister and . . . Our Mother.

I remember we were all pretty excited about the trip. Especially my husband.

For weeks, he had been taking his job as official airport transporter very seriously. He was predicting rain on the morning of our departure, coupled with a few jackknifed big rigs on the 405 and scattered emergency road work.

This is pretty standard for my husband, who is big on “being prepared.” He deposited us at the Orange County airport at 7:30 a.m for a flight scheduled to leave at 8:35 a.m. This allowed for a margin of error.

Of 7 1/2 hours.

That’s how long it was until we actually left the Orange County airport after American Airlines canceled our flight.

But, hey, all those peppy little messages from our captain and his lovely flight crew during our three-hour wait on the tarmac made for a sense of community among us passengers. I figured this is what leisure is all about, really taking the time to know your neighbors, enjoying the simpler things.

Hell, if not for the fact that all the flora decorating the Orange County airport is actually conveniently artificial for our aesthetic enjoyment, I would have taken a few moments to smell some roses.

Then we arrived in Dallas. There was no flora. But there was my mother.

What with our little delay getting out of Orange County, this allowed for even more leisure time to be spent in the company of yet another extremely close family member, on the very same flight and with a little juggling, in the very seat next to my own.

I was especially eager to share with my mother the joy of traveling with a 5-year-old big on the concept of When Do We Get There, Mom?

And luck was with us. We were only three hours late getting out of Dallas.

(My daughter did have a tough time understanding how it was that we in steerage didn’t get so much as a bag of peanuts during the two-hour flight, whereas the upper-class passengers were served a full meal.

(But being rather new to this type of leisure concept myself, I was ready to let it pass. “No sense in spoiling the vacation!” is what I said.)

Seeing as how by the time we finally arrived at our hotel in Orlando, it was 3 a.m., I’m a little fuzzy on the details of the rest of the trip. As I recall, it went something like this.

The next morning: Disney World. Dig out credit card. Decide to keep credit card handy. Admonish children that greed is not becoming. Consider getting into fanny packs as a sideline, perhaps as a promotional tie-in with Southern California’s myriad tourist attractions. Figure to make millions fast.

Wonder why I am in Orlando, as am feeling a strange sense of deja vu . Daughter says, repeatedly, “That’s Disney land , Mommy, not Disney World ! Admonish children that it doesn’t matter who gets what! Close eyes for a couple hours.

The following morning: Epcot Center. Wonder about significance of giant golf ball, but find cannot hold many complex thoughts. Wander into something on video called, “Oh Canada!” and notice abundance of moose.

Discover that absence of stimulating gift opportunities makes children a bit listless. Leave Epcot for trip to store called Bargain World. Children fight over more appropriately priced items. Sleep, a little.

The next day: MGM Studios. Initial impression: cute. Lose sister and nephew after separating over artistic differences. Our faction rules out “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.” Sister accuses mother of being unfair for not partaking in her share of “boy (expletive).” Miraculously reunited with sister and nephew and letting bygones by bygones, all agree to quickly return to the hotel for Happy Hour. Do not recall much sleep.

The last day: Realizing that leisure time about to expire, make quick trip to River Country, a “rustic” water park. Mother stays at hotel for long bath, which does not require donning bathing suit in public.

Drop sister and nephew at airport, figuring to spend even more leisure time with mother and daughter until flight leaves that evening. Possibly due to lack of sleep, however, give in to temptation offered by suspiciously chipper airline ticket agent to go “standby” on earlier flight. Chances are said to be “good.”

Attempt to drop mother at Amtrak station, where she will begin “non-themed” vacation with grown-ups. Attempt fails, however, as Amtrak impossible to find within 45 minutes when guided by Disney-type map that does not include “wrong” side of tracks.

Mother then dumped at gas station with luggage to await taxi. Try to avoid imagining mother’s thoughts as pull away.

Drive at considerable speed toward airport. After unsuccessful attempts to locate car rental agency, miss standby flight. Lounge about airport with daughter. Arrive in Orange County much later that night, or is it early morning? Unclear at this point.

I do remember, however, that I left my favorite jacket in the rental car. I call the agency in Orlando. They find it and agree to send it to me.

So now I figure I can relax.