Summer Holidays...
Aug 25, 2014, 2:18 pm
#76
Moderator, Trip Reports
Original Poster
Join Date: Jul 2009
Location: Denver, CO
Programs: UA GS-2MM, Marriott Ambassador
Posts: 3,712
I don’t know if your family is like mine. Actually, scratch that. No family is like mine. Why would I even bother to ask?
Anyway.
When we go on holidays it always turns out the same, no matter where we are. I have a personal view that sleep is overrated. My side of the family are all the same. My mother sleeps with one eye open (in case she misses something) and my sister is completely nocturnal
So when we are on vacation, and as my German friends like to say, I always “stand up early”. I’ve always done it. And always will.
But the kids and my wife. They are another matter entirely. And now that my son is a teenager, you’d struggle to wake him up with a defibrillator connected to a three-phase power source. His sister is even worse. It’s like poking an angry rodent with a sharp stick. Typically ends in a lot of yelling and screaming, and projectiles moving at an alarming rate of speed towards the head, especially if it is her brother doing the poking bit.
Incidentally, why is it that women are deadly accurate when they are outraged, but can't throw a thing to save their lives when they are calm and happy. One of lifes' mysteries if you ask me.
While we were at Camp Hyatt, I would always head to breakfast solo. Sometimes my wife would tag along. But the kids were nary to be seen. Towards the end of the trip, they used to send us text messages asking us to bring something back for them.
Stupidly we would agree and my wife and I would have to load up plates full of food and then be forced to create a diversion, and slink away under the cover of darkness.
“Lets pretend to have an argument”, I suggested. “We need to create a diversion”
“Why pretend” my wife would say. “I have 15-years of material to get wound up about”.
I decided to ditch this idea and simply walk out the door. That’s the good thing with big hotels like these. They have probably seen it all before, especially when it comes to severely beaten husbands and their families.
Which brings me neatly to the next episode.
The kids, tiring of the continental breakfast at the hotel, suggested that we go to the local iHop down the road. It was within skipping distance. Seemed like a good idea at the time so we all piled into the minivan and headed towards The International House of Pancakes.
How hard could it be, right.
Now, I have eaten at many of these and always found them to be perfectly adequate. In America, it’s hard to ruin breakfast. Filtered coffee, eggs, hash browns and pancakes are a staple. The country runs on this stuff.
When we walked in, something was amiss. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. The place was screaming busy. But that was nothing to write home about. It was summer vacation after all and the restaurant was full to the bream with families and their slightly rotund offspring.
Then I saw it. Okay, now call me OCD when I tell you this – but what I noticed was all the ac ducts in the roof. They were filthy and completely clogged with dust. Not a light coating. More akin to volcanic ash. Every vent was the same. Putrid.
I pointed these to the kids and She Who Must Be Obeyed
“Please don’t create a scene”, my wife pleaded
“But they’re disgusting. It’s unhygienic. I’m going to take photos” I said bravely
“You’re not serious?”
“Yes, I am”
“No you’re not”
“Yes I am”, and before she could grab me to apply the standard full nelson, I sprang from the booth, armed with my iPhone. Camera mode at the ready.
The 2 girls started to crawl under the table out of sheer embarrassment but this whole thing was like water off a ducks back to my son, who was motoring away through a stack of pancakes and what looked like a dozen eggs. He barely lifted his eyes.
I walked around the restaurant taking photos of each and every ceiling vent. I was shocked.
At first, no one really cared. In Florida, no one starts to worry unless they hear semi automatic gun-fire. Or Billy Graham. But slowly and surely, people started to point and look at me.
I was snapping away like an intoxicated Japanese tourist. I was so consumed with the mission that I didn’t see the manager come towards me.
“Excuse me Sir”
“Hello”, I beamed
“Can I ask what you are doing?”
“Yes, taking photos”
“Of what exactly”
“Of the ac vents. They are revolting. It’s unhygienic. You can’t expect people to work here let alone eat here.” I then told the nice man that the Florida Department of Health and iHop HQ should know about this appalling state of decay.
I glanced over to where our table was. Except the majority of the family had fled. The girls had decided to go deep undercover and were now sitting with a Mexican family and happily speaking Spanish, much to their new, adopted mothers’ bewilderment. My wife had run and locked herself in the bathroom. And my son was ordering something more to eat, not even realizing that we had all left.
The manager then proceeded to become quite agitated at this whole consumer driven attempt at journalism and demanded that I delete the photos.
I said no.
He started to wave his arms and called for back up. I was thinking, seriously, you’re waving your arms at me.
He then insisted that I leave his fine dining establishment and he would comp the check if I split. As in vamoose. I suggested that this may not be a good idea until he calculated just how much my son had eaten but thought better of it.
So we left. Well, ok, we were kicked out. Semantics.
As we drove out of the parking lot, I said to the kids,
“Wasn’t that exciting?”
The girls were now hiding under the rear cargo tray, just in case someone saw them
“No, it was so embarrassing” they both yelled in unison
“I thought it was cool Dad”, said my son
“But I’m still hungry. I hadn’t finished”
My wife then erupted in a fit of rage and said I had brought shame and disgrace to the family name. I said to her “look, honey people have a right to know if the restaurant they want to eat at is actually a squalor. That place should be condemned. Even if it is in Florida.”
After a few days of sucking up, she eventually got over it. But not before making thinly veiled threats of ordering something from Tiffany’s. And instructing the kids to "knock themselves out with room service and meals by the pool"
I was probably ok with that, given that she didn’t yet realize she was on Southwest with the girls for their return flight to Denver. And my son and I were going to reverse our journey and head back to Miami, in another one of Hertz’ finest.
The last few days we all just hung out. Kids by the pool. Wife at the massage place. And me at the bar.
You know you have a problem at a hotel when the finance department start pinging your credit card every 48 hours, to clear off the tab that your family seem to be running up with gay abandon. When it came time to check out, the machine ran out of paper.
Ok, I kid. It wasn’t that bad. Not that my wife would know.
Florida was good to us. It is good for families. In fact, the place is built for them. Ok, so I wouldn’t hurry back and while we are technically banned from eating pancakes in the Sunny state, there are other options. Apparently.
Now lets talk about Japan. That was much more fun. Let me gather my thoughts for a moment.
Anyway.
When we go on holidays it always turns out the same, no matter where we are. I have a personal view that sleep is overrated. My side of the family are all the same. My mother sleeps with one eye open (in case she misses something) and my sister is completely nocturnal
So when we are on vacation, and as my German friends like to say, I always “stand up early”. I’ve always done it. And always will.
But the kids and my wife. They are another matter entirely. And now that my son is a teenager, you’d struggle to wake him up with a defibrillator connected to a three-phase power source. His sister is even worse. It’s like poking an angry rodent with a sharp stick. Typically ends in a lot of yelling and screaming, and projectiles moving at an alarming rate of speed towards the head, especially if it is her brother doing the poking bit.
Incidentally, why is it that women are deadly accurate when they are outraged, but can't throw a thing to save their lives when they are calm and happy. One of lifes' mysteries if you ask me.
While we were at Camp Hyatt, I would always head to breakfast solo. Sometimes my wife would tag along. But the kids were nary to be seen. Towards the end of the trip, they used to send us text messages asking us to bring something back for them.
Stupidly we would agree and my wife and I would have to load up plates full of food and then be forced to create a diversion, and slink away under the cover of darkness.
“Lets pretend to have an argument”, I suggested. “We need to create a diversion”
“Why pretend” my wife would say. “I have 15-years of material to get wound up about”.
I decided to ditch this idea and simply walk out the door. That’s the good thing with big hotels like these. They have probably seen it all before, especially when it comes to severely beaten husbands and their families.
Which brings me neatly to the next episode.
The kids, tiring of the continental breakfast at the hotel, suggested that we go to the local iHop down the road. It was within skipping distance. Seemed like a good idea at the time so we all piled into the minivan and headed towards The International House of Pancakes.
How hard could it be, right.
Now, I have eaten at many of these and always found them to be perfectly adequate. In America, it’s hard to ruin breakfast. Filtered coffee, eggs, hash browns and pancakes are a staple. The country runs on this stuff.
When we walked in, something was amiss. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. The place was screaming busy. But that was nothing to write home about. It was summer vacation after all and the restaurant was full to the bream with families and their slightly rotund offspring.
Then I saw it. Okay, now call me OCD when I tell you this – but what I noticed was all the ac ducts in the roof. They were filthy and completely clogged with dust. Not a light coating. More akin to volcanic ash. Every vent was the same. Putrid.
I pointed these to the kids and She Who Must Be Obeyed
“Please don’t create a scene”, my wife pleaded
“But they’re disgusting. It’s unhygienic. I’m going to take photos” I said bravely
“You’re not serious?”
“Yes, I am”
“No you’re not”
“Yes I am”, and before she could grab me to apply the standard full nelson, I sprang from the booth, armed with my iPhone. Camera mode at the ready.
The 2 girls started to crawl under the table out of sheer embarrassment but this whole thing was like water off a ducks back to my son, who was motoring away through a stack of pancakes and what looked like a dozen eggs. He barely lifted his eyes.
I walked around the restaurant taking photos of each and every ceiling vent. I was shocked.
At first, no one really cared. In Florida, no one starts to worry unless they hear semi automatic gun-fire. Or Billy Graham. But slowly and surely, people started to point and look at me.
I was snapping away like an intoxicated Japanese tourist. I was so consumed with the mission that I didn’t see the manager come towards me.
“Excuse me Sir”
“Hello”, I beamed
“Can I ask what you are doing?”
“Yes, taking photos”
“Of what exactly”
“Of the ac vents. They are revolting. It’s unhygienic. You can’t expect people to work here let alone eat here.” I then told the nice man that the Florida Department of Health and iHop HQ should know about this appalling state of decay.
I glanced over to where our table was. Except the majority of the family had fled. The girls had decided to go deep undercover and were now sitting with a Mexican family and happily speaking Spanish, much to their new, adopted mothers’ bewilderment. My wife had run and locked herself in the bathroom. And my son was ordering something more to eat, not even realizing that we had all left.
The manager then proceeded to become quite agitated at this whole consumer driven attempt at journalism and demanded that I delete the photos.
I said no.
He started to wave his arms and called for back up. I was thinking, seriously, you’re waving your arms at me.
He then insisted that I leave his fine dining establishment and he would comp the check if I split. As in vamoose. I suggested that this may not be a good idea until he calculated just how much my son had eaten but thought better of it.
So we left. Well, ok, we were kicked out. Semantics.
As we drove out of the parking lot, I said to the kids,
“Wasn’t that exciting?”
The girls were now hiding under the rear cargo tray, just in case someone saw them
“No, it was so embarrassing” they both yelled in unison
“I thought it was cool Dad”, said my son
“But I’m still hungry. I hadn’t finished”
My wife then erupted in a fit of rage and said I had brought shame and disgrace to the family name. I said to her “look, honey people have a right to know if the restaurant they want to eat at is actually a squalor. That place should be condemned. Even if it is in Florida.”
After a few days of sucking up, she eventually got over it. But not before making thinly veiled threats of ordering something from Tiffany’s. And instructing the kids to "knock themselves out with room service and meals by the pool"
I was probably ok with that, given that she didn’t yet realize she was on Southwest with the girls for their return flight to Denver. And my son and I were going to reverse our journey and head back to Miami, in another one of Hertz’ finest.
The last few days we all just hung out. Kids by the pool. Wife at the massage place. And me at the bar.
You know you have a problem at a hotel when the finance department start pinging your credit card every 48 hours, to clear off the tab that your family seem to be running up with gay abandon. When it came time to check out, the machine ran out of paper.
Ok, I kid. It wasn’t that bad. Not that my wife would know.
Florida was good to us. It is good for families. In fact, the place is built for them. Ok, so I wouldn’t hurry back and while we are technically banned from eating pancakes in the Sunny state, there are other options. Apparently.
Now lets talk about Japan. That was much more fun. Let me gather my thoughts for a moment.
Aug 25, 2014, 2:45 pm
#77
Join Date: Sep 2008
Location: BWI
Posts: 1,782
Fantastic start to the TR.
Why did you fly into MIA and not MCO? I see that you're a member of the Green Club. It also helps getting cookies sent to the room in the evening. Also helps getting bags checked in MIA.
Can't wait to see the future installments.
Why did you fly into MIA and not MCO? I see that you're a member of the Green Club. It also helps getting cookies sent to the room in the evening. Also helps getting bags checked in MIA.
Can't wait to see the future installments.
Aug 25, 2014, 5:15 pm
#79
Moderator: American AAdvantage
Join Date: May 2000
Location: NorCal - SMF area
Programs: AA LT Plat; HH LT Diamond, Maître-plongeur des Muccis
Posts: 62,948
Trust me, I understand.
My wife gets up early - 5 in the morning. She has been retired nearly twenty years. I retired the beginning of this year and will generally not budge for an hour.
Yes, that's right. My wife beats me up every morning. I feel your pain.
My wife gets up early - 5 in the morning. She has been retired nearly twenty years. I retired the beginning of this year and will generally not budge for an hour.
Yes, that's right. My wife beats me up every morning. I feel your pain.
Aug 26, 2014, 5:44 am
#80
Join Date: Nov 2006
Location: Aberdeenshire
Programs: BA
Posts: 1,007
I toddled over here to the TR Forum to follow c-w-s's not-a-TR and found this...awesome stuff eightblack ^. It's up there with PUCCI GALORE's TFTG
Aug 26, 2014, 9:38 pm
#81
Moderator, Trip Reports
Original Poster
Join Date: Jul 2009
Location: Denver, CO
Programs: UA GS-2MM, Marriott Ambassador
Posts: 3,712
I’m not sure how we’re going to make the jump to warp together – in terms of how we transition from Orlando to Tokyo, but why don’t we give it a good ole fashioned college try. Lets punch it as they say in the movie.
The family vacation ended in the same manner as it started. With a lot of yelling and screaming, and with suitcases and wheelies still unpacked 3-days after we got home.
As soon as we got home, I had to evac quickly to Germany for work, which my wife thought all too convenient.
For those non-Americans, summer holidays last an absolute eternity. Our kids school end sometime in May and they only went back last week. For the first week, you think its quite nice having the kids at home. But then it gets seriously old. After what feels like the 52nd week, you’re enrolling them into some non-lethal drug testing program run by a weird sounding pharmaceutical company in South Dakota.
Anything to get them out of the house. I can hear all the parents sighing in unison with me.
The holidays drag on. And on. And on. The kids end up going stir crazy. You end up going stir crazy.
Both my wife and work from home, so this makes it even worse. According to her, I have the attention span of a small, neurotic insect. She says that our son is afflicted with the same condition.
So when I called from Europe to check on things, I was met with:
“You had better do something with that son of yours, because I am going to strangle him” she barks down the phone
“Why, what’s been going on?” I ask rather innocently
Apparently, this wasn’t what the head of the house wanted to hear.
Turns out, I was having a crappy week and was looking for any excuse to do something else.
The geriatric hamster that powers the wheel inside my head started to turn. Albeit slowly. I jumped online and thought about Europe. Nope, didn’t want to have to hoof it all the way home and back again.
Then it hit me like one of my wifes’ shoes on our anniversary.
“Eureka!” I exclaimed to myself. Japan. That was it.
Now you might think this all a trifle extravagant. But it isn’t. Not for the tribe we belong to. Award availability was populating UA’s website like a horny teenage rabbit. It was abundant. Up the wazoo in fact.
And I have a great corporate rate at the Hyatt Regency in Shinjuku. In reality it was probably going to be cheaper staying there than feeding the child back home on US soil.
So that’s how we ended up in Tokyo. Told number one son to pack his wheelie again and that to prepare for some adventure training. Wife and I agreed that we wouldn’t tell him where he was going.
I started to receive text messages, which I had to put through Google Translate. And the use the Dummies Guide To Teenagers.
“Where are we going?” he blurted
“Not telling”
“Why not?”
“Because its adventure training”
“And make sure you pack some clean clothes” I continued
“I haven’t unpacked from Orlando yet”
“Do you not think it might be a good idea?” I quizzed
“Dunno”
“Tell Mom to put the contents of your bag in the wash and use bleach. A lot”
I managed to snag 2 business class seats on ANA out of Chicago. And then I pulled 2 UA seats for the return from Narita to Houston, and then back to Denver. Took all of 5-minutes. And yes, a bundle of miles.
But you know what, to me at least, that’s what this whole hobby is about. The face value of the tickets was stupidly expensive if you had have used real money. Especially 4-5 days out. I think the taxes was less than the cost of a hamburger. A fancy one.
So off we went. To the land of the rising sun. I simply love Japan. One of my favorite places on earth. And as it turns out, is now one of my sons all time favorites too.
Sorry for the short post, but as I write this the kids are well and truly back at school and there is homework to be done. Much arm waving at present.
Promise to tell you all about Tokyo tomorrow.
The family vacation ended in the same manner as it started. With a lot of yelling and screaming, and with suitcases and wheelies still unpacked 3-days after we got home.
As soon as we got home, I had to evac quickly to Germany for work, which my wife thought all too convenient.
For those non-Americans, summer holidays last an absolute eternity. Our kids school end sometime in May and they only went back last week. For the first week, you think its quite nice having the kids at home. But then it gets seriously old. After what feels like the 52nd week, you’re enrolling them into some non-lethal drug testing program run by a weird sounding pharmaceutical company in South Dakota.
Anything to get them out of the house. I can hear all the parents sighing in unison with me.
The holidays drag on. And on. And on. The kids end up going stir crazy. You end up going stir crazy.
Both my wife and work from home, so this makes it even worse. According to her, I have the attention span of a small, neurotic insect. She says that our son is afflicted with the same condition.
So when I called from Europe to check on things, I was met with:
“You had better do something with that son of yours, because I am going to strangle him” she barks down the phone
“Why, what’s been going on?” I ask rather innocently
Apparently, this wasn’t what the head of the house wanted to hear.
Turns out, I was having a crappy week and was looking for any excuse to do something else.
The geriatric hamster that powers the wheel inside my head started to turn. Albeit slowly. I jumped online and thought about Europe. Nope, didn’t want to have to hoof it all the way home and back again.
Then it hit me like one of my wifes’ shoes on our anniversary.
“Eureka!” I exclaimed to myself. Japan. That was it.
Now you might think this all a trifle extravagant. But it isn’t. Not for the tribe we belong to. Award availability was populating UA’s website like a horny teenage rabbit. It was abundant. Up the wazoo in fact.
And I have a great corporate rate at the Hyatt Regency in Shinjuku. In reality it was probably going to be cheaper staying there than feeding the child back home on US soil.
So that’s how we ended up in Tokyo. Told number one son to pack his wheelie again and that to prepare for some adventure training. Wife and I agreed that we wouldn’t tell him where he was going.
I started to receive text messages, which I had to put through Google Translate. And the use the Dummies Guide To Teenagers.
“Where are we going?” he blurted
“Not telling”
“Why not?”
“Because its adventure training”
“And make sure you pack some clean clothes” I continued
“I haven’t unpacked from Orlando yet”
“Do you not think it might be a good idea?” I quizzed
“Dunno”
“Tell Mom to put the contents of your bag in the wash and use bleach. A lot”
I managed to snag 2 business class seats on ANA out of Chicago. And then I pulled 2 UA seats for the return from Narita to Houston, and then back to Denver. Took all of 5-minutes. And yes, a bundle of miles.
But you know what, to me at least, that’s what this whole hobby is about. The face value of the tickets was stupidly expensive if you had have used real money. Especially 4-5 days out. I think the taxes was less than the cost of a hamburger. A fancy one.
So off we went. To the land of the rising sun. I simply love Japan. One of my favorite places on earth. And as it turns out, is now one of my sons all time favorites too.
Sorry for the short post, but as I write this the kids are well and truly back at school and there is homework to be done. Much arm waving at present.
Promise to tell you all about Tokyo tomorrow.
Aug 30, 2014, 1:44 pm
#87
Join Date: Mar 2014
Location: EWR
Posts: 2,112
Aug 30, 2014, 5:39 pm
#90
Join Date: Sep 2011
Location: Brisbane
Programs: QF gold, HH Diamond, VA plat, Aegean Gold
Posts: 681