I was saddened to learn that Pleasure Island, Walt Disney World's hip and happenin' island of nightclubs, shopping, and food, is closing in September of this year.
Pleasure Island, or simply PI to its nighttime visitors, was the hot spot for students participating in the Walt Disney World College Program, which recruits college kids from around the world to work and keep the mouse world running. I participated the first semester of my junior year and liked it so much that I stayed for another semester doing an advanced internship.
Moving to Florida was a surprisingly easy decision. My first two years of college, while informative and sometimes fun, were a darker period in my life. I learned to analyze literature and literary criticism and complex characters but never learned how to apply my critical thinking skills to my own life. You're supposed to learn about who you are in college, but I spent my first two years losing myself. I knew and understood the characters in my books better than I understood myself. Escaping the life that I had been living was a dream come true.
I moved to Orlando without knowing anyone. At my job, I learned to overcome shyness by forcing myself to make eye contact and greet people that I passed en route to the break room (writing this now, it's hard to believe that I was ever that shy, but I was--and anyone who has fought an ever-present need to hide can understand). As weeks turned into months, I made friends with roommates and coworkers and developed a great social circle.
It was my second semester in the mouse house that I discovered the bacchanalian Pleasure Island. Most Thursdays and some Mondays (cast members got in free those nights), my roommate and I and our friends would giggle our way over in our tank tops and mascara, finding our place in the middle of the dancefloor under a cloud of humidity that the neon lights almost broke through. The most fun nights featured a dancefloor so crowded you couldn't move without bumping into everyone around you while still trying to maintain the groove that you and your girlfriends had going on.
Back then, 3 AM was a much more reasonable hour for being awake than it is now. Then again, staying up until 3 and then waking up for work at 8:30 AM was a lot easier than it would be now. Me at 21 was more resilient than me now.
I have a lot of happy memories of PI--sneaking into the valet lot every night after midnight to get rockstar parking, collecting the admission bracelets on my bathroom vanity, and being able to go sleeveless in the wintertime--but the real success came not from my memories but from learning to stretch my comfort boundaries and figuring out who I really was. The dancefloor of the Wildhorse is not solely responsible for the spirit, confidence, and independence that I learned during my ten-month tenure at Disney, but it was where I learned to dance like no one was watching, and that knowledge transferred to my life philosophy: Live your life the way you want.
So farewell, PI. I am sad for the countless college programmers who won't have the opportunity to experience the exuberance, debauchery, and magic of a Thursday night at PI, but as for me, I moved on after getting my groove back.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Monday, July 7, 2008
Vacation training
Yesterday we started training for our vacation.
Training for a vacation sounds silly to some. Some people vacation to relax and do nothing. I understand that philosophy, but two days of doing nothing drives me batty, and doing nothing for 2-3 weeks sounds like torture. I prefer getting out and seeing as much as I can (while still taking time to enjoy the sights), especially in Europe, which is pricey and difficult to visit.
European transportation, for tourists anyway, focuses primarily on trains and feet. You take trains between major cities, and you foot it the rest of the time. For our honeymoon, we walked between 6 and 8 miles per day, even though we were taking the Metro in Paris. And maybe some people are able to bounce into 2 straight weeks of intense walking (did I mention the stairs?), but I wasn't, so in the month and a half before our wedding, we walked. A lot. Maybe not 6-8 miles per day, but we regularly did 2-3 mile walks.
And we did great in France! We took breaks at cafes when we were tired, but not once did we wake up sore or achy. I did pull a muscle early in the trip (walking down the stairs of the Notre Dame tower--again, did I mention the stairs...), but I discovered that if you keep walking, such injuries go away in a few days.
Our strategy last year was so successful that we have decided to start another walking program. Last night we kicked it off with an hourlong trek through a nearby neighborhood. Oh, the hills--but great views.
In theory, you can train for a marathon in two months, so if we keep up with our evening walks, we can expect a painfree Italian vacation.
Training for a vacation sounds silly to some. Some people vacation to relax and do nothing. I understand that philosophy, but two days of doing nothing drives me batty, and doing nothing for 2-3 weeks sounds like torture. I prefer getting out and seeing as much as I can (while still taking time to enjoy the sights), especially in Europe, which is pricey and difficult to visit.
European transportation, for tourists anyway, focuses primarily on trains and feet. You take trains between major cities, and you foot it the rest of the time. For our honeymoon, we walked between 6 and 8 miles per day, even though we were taking the Metro in Paris. And maybe some people are able to bounce into 2 straight weeks of intense walking (did I mention the stairs?), but I wasn't, so in the month and a half before our wedding, we walked. A lot. Maybe not 6-8 miles per day, but we regularly did 2-3 mile walks.
And we did great in France! We took breaks at cafes when we were tired, but not once did we wake up sore or achy. I did pull a muscle early in the trip (walking down the stairs of the Notre Dame tower--again, did I mention the stairs...), but I discovered that if you keep walking, such injuries go away in a few days.
Our strategy last year was so successful that we have decided to start another walking program. Last night we kicked it off with an hourlong trek through a nearby neighborhood. Oh, the hills--but great views.
In theory, you can train for a marathon in two months, so if we keep up with our evening walks, we can expect a painfree Italian vacation.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
No dress regrets here
Have you ever tried on an article of clothing and wondered, "How have I lived so long without this?"
I had one of those moments this weekend at a little boutique store near my parents' house. I didn't go in to buy a new dress--I don't have any upcoming weddings this summer, and I already have a few outfits that are appropriate for summer events. But I saw a few spiffy-looking dresses and couldn't resist taking a closer look.
There were three dresses--one purple and two blue. The purple and one of the blues were a few sizes too large, so I figured there was no chance that the final dress would work. But it was my size! I had to try it on. And as soon as I tried it on, I knew I had to get it. Everyone lives with memories of the clothes or household items (Hemingway desks...) or whatever that they decided not to buy and have regretted it ever since, and I couldn't live with regret over my blue dress.
Here's the closest pic I could find--this is the same style, but my dress is a lighter blue, almost turquoise. And watch out, Italy, because this dress is coming with me.
I had one of those moments this weekend at a little boutique store near my parents' house. I didn't go in to buy a new dress--I don't have any upcoming weddings this summer, and I already have a few outfits that are appropriate for summer events. But I saw a few spiffy-looking dresses and couldn't resist taking a closer look.
There were three dresses--one purple and two blue. The purple and one of the blues were a few sizes too large, so I figured there was no chance that the final dress would work. But it was my size! I had to try it on. And as soon as I tried it on, I knew I had to get it. Everyone lives with memories of the clothes or household items (Hemingway desks...) or whatever that they decided not to buy and have regretted it ever since, and I couldn't live with regret over my blue dress.
Here's the closest pic I could find--this is the same style, but my dress is a lighter blue, almost turquoise. And watch out, Italy, because this dress is coming with me.
Books, books, books
Our book collection is good sized in comparison to our peers, though perhaps a little small considering our degrees. We have a mix of fiction (mostly mine) and non-fiction (mostly B's), a healthy collection of travel guidebooks, and now even a dictionary, which B liberated from his childhood bedroom a few weeks ago.
But you can never have too many books, at least not if you're planning to stay in one spot for a few years, and as long as all of your books are worthy of a reread. I don't see any point in owning a book so it takes up space on your shelf--if I won't reread it, I pass it along.
We stayed at my parents' house this weekend and I discovered an entire shelf of my college books. Oh, Fuentes, you are a great reminder of how badly my Spanish skills have deteriorated. And Godel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid--will you make any more sense ten years after my freshman writing class? Moby Dick--I had to give a report to the class on pages 100-200 or so, which meant that I never finished reading you. (Will I ever try again? Unlikely, but you never know.)
How have I been out of college for 6 years, and none of these books are in my possession? I don't even remember how they ended up in my parents' house. I moved directly from my senior-year apartment to my studio in the city, so in theory, they should have moved with me.
But they didn't--until now, that is. I kidnapped them and brought them home, so now all of my tech writing books can be together (what a happy little reunion that will be), and my literature can share space with my chick lit, and I can finally reread that fabulous Ocean City teenage-trash series that I so enjoyed back in junior high.
Unfortunately, this influx of pages and covers has put shelf space at a wicked premium, and the giant armload of books that we picked up at a book sale this weekend is only adding to the problem. I guess it's time to start cutting. I'm sorry, Mr. Melville, it's not personal, but I'm not sure if there's room on my shelves for your whale.
But you can never have too many books, at least not if you're planning to stay in one spot for a few years, and as long as all of your books are worthy of a reread. I don't see any point in owning a book so it takes up space on your shelf--if I won't reread it, I pass it along.
We stayed at my parents' house this weekend and I discovered an entire shelf of my college books. Oh, Fuentes, you are a great reminder of how badly my Spanish skills have deteriorated. And Godel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid--will you make any more sense ten years after my freshman writing class? Moby Dick--I had to give a report to the class on pages 100-200 or so, which meant that I never finished reading you. (Will I ever try again? Unlikely, but you never know.)
How have I been out of college for 6 years, and none of these books are in my possession? I don't even remember how they ended up in my parents' house. I moved directly from my senior-year apartment to my studio in the city, so in theory, they should have moved with me.
But they didn't--until now, that is. I kidnapped them and brought them home, so now all of my tech writing books can be together (what a happy little reunion that will be), and my literature can share space with my chick lit, and I can finally reread that fabulous Ocean City teenage-trash series that I so enjoyed back in junior high.
Unfortunately, this influx of pages and covers has put shelf space at a wicked premium, and the giant armload of books that we picked up at a book sale this weekend is only adding to the problem. I guess it's time to start cutting. I'm sorry, Mr. Melville, it's not personal, but I'm not sure if there's room on my shelves for your whale.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
How to avoid being served blackened squid while abroad
We had a couple of unpleasant culinary experiences on our honeymoon. For our first night in Nice, the restaurant served slightly blackened yet not-really-cooked squid to B and gnocchi with a gorgonzola cream sauce to me. B likened the squid to a Fear Factor gross-out challenge, and my gorgonzola sauce instilled a fear of French cheeses that will live forever.
We decided we could--and should--do better in Italy.
Asking the hotel concierge for help is a good start, but consulting a Michelin guide is better. If you only know Michelin as a tire company, then you're missing out. Their star ratings can make or break restaurants, and losing a Michelin star has undone many a French chef.
The only teeny weeny problem is that Michelin red guides (the red guides are for food and hotels) are published only in the language of the country that is rated. Between my Spanish and B's Latin, we could probably figure out some of the words, but who wants to work that hard? Not me, not on vacation, anyway.
But I discovered a Michelin red guide--in English!--for the main cities of Europe. Perfect, I thought. We'll be in Italy, Greece, Croatia, Germany, and Austria this year, and we can use the guide in all of those places. Two birds, one stone, and all of that.
Well, not so fast, Captain Awesome. Had I consulted the back cover before purchasing the book from Amazon, I would have learned that the guide doesn't cover all of the cities that we're going to. In fact, it doesn't cover either Venice or Florence, so there's almost no point in bringing it with us to Italy, unless we want to use it for our few hours in Athens (which is covered) or for our one-night layover in Frankfurt (also covered) at the end of the trip. Croatia doesn't even get a mention. For our December trip, Munich and Stuttgart are in it, but Salzburg is not.
So we're back to the original dilemma, only $20 poorer and no smarter. Ask concierge, wing it, or take our chances and buy the untranslated Italian red guide. Just no more cheese sauces, please...
We decided we could--and should--do better in Italy.
Asking the hotel concierge for help is a good start, but consulting a Michelin guide is better. If you only know Michelin as a tire company, then you're missing out. Their star ratings can make or break restaurants, and losing a Michelin star has undone many a French chef.
The only teeny weeny problem is that Michelin red guides (the red guides are for food and hotels) are published only in the language of the country that is rated. Between my Spanish and B's Latin, we could probably figure out some of the words, but who wants to work that hard? Not me, not on vacation, anyway.
But I discovered a Michelin red guide--in English!--for the main cities of Europe. Perfect, I thought. We'll be in Italy, Greece, Croatia, Germany, and Austria this year, and we can use the guide in all of those places. Two birds, one stone, and all of that.
Well, not so fast, Captain Awesome. Had I consulted the back cover before purchasing the book from Amazon, I would have learned that the guide doesn't cover all of the cities that we're going to. In fact, it doesn't cover either Venice or Florence, so there's almost no point in bringing it with us to Italy, unless we want to use it for our few hours in Athens (which is covered) or for our one-night layover in Frankfurt (also covered) at the end of the trip. Croatia doesn't even get a mention. For our December trip, Munich and Stuttgart are in it, but Salzburg is not.
So we're back to the original dilemma, only $20 poorer and no smarter. Ask concierge, wing it, or take our chances and buy the untranslated Italian red guide. Just no more cheese sauces, please...
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Upgrade your bathroom, upgrade your life
Upgrading our bathroom has had some unexpected consequences. Suddenly, our furnishings aren't quite nice enough.
We knew that our existing space saver had to go. Much of it is particle board, and the wood-ish sticker is peeling in some sections. Our new space saver is made of real wood (bamboo), so that upgrade is complete.
But when I was looking at the photos of the new bathroom, a few things stuck out. The first issue was the soap dispenser. A white plastic Dial soap dispenser (probably still has the price sticker on it) is fine on a laminate countertop, but it looks out of place in our posh new digs. And the hand towels--they don't match. They never matched, but now that the rest of the room goes so well together, they have to match, or they'll look out of place.
Last night we went to Home Goods to remedy these issues. We picked up a bronze soap dispenser that matches (mostly) the faucet and also got some beige and green hand towels. We were getting ready to check out when a raging thunderstorm broke out, so we decided to keep shopping.
We kept wandering and discovered some lantern-style lamps that were good candidates for our living room. The current lamps, from Target, are serviceable but have some construction flaws, and we've been on the lookout for replacements.
The storm stopped, and we decided we had done enough damage--B was able to tear me away from the beautiful but enormous patio table that I was swooning over--so we paid and made tracks for home with our new decorating items.
We had only one success--the soap dispenser. The green in the towels clashes terribly with the walls (note to self: bring paint chip the next time we try to decorate our bathroom), and the lamps are wrong, wrong, wrong--too tall, too glarey, and yet not enough light. The lamps and towels are going back.
Let us remember the last time we returned something--a fake plant--to Home Goods. We came home with a sink, and it's been chaos and change ever since! Maybe we should swap the lamps and towels for a fake plant and end this cycle of madness.
We knew that our existing space saver had to go. Much of it is particle board, and the wood-ish sticker is peeling in some sections. Our new space saver is made of real wood (bamboo), so that upgrade is complete.
But when I was looking at the photos of the new bathroom, a few things stuck out. The first issue was the soap dispenser. A white plastic Dial soap dispenser (probably still has the price sticker on it) is fine on a laminate countertop, but it looks out of place in our posh new digs. And the hand towels--they don't match. They never matched, but now that the rest of the room goes so well together, they have to match, or they'll look out of place.
Last night we went to Home Goods to remedy these issues. We picked up a bronze soap dispenser that matches (mostly) the faucet and also got some beige and green hand towels. We were getting ready to check out when a raging thunderstorm broke out, so we decided to keep shopping.
We kept wandering and discovered some lantern-style lamps that were good candidates for our living room. The current lamps, from Target, are serviceable but have some construction flaws, and we've been on the lookout for replacements.
The storm stopped, and we decided we had done enough damage--B was able to tear me away from the beautiful but enormous patio table that I was swooning over--so we paid and made tracks for home with our new decorating items.
We had only one success--the soap dispenser. The green in the towels clashes terribly with the walls (note to self: bring paint chip the next time we try to decorate our bathroom), and the lamps are wrong, wrong, wrong--too tall, too glarey, and yet not enough light. The lamps and towels are going back.
Let us remember the last time we returned something--a fake plant--to Home Goods. We came home with a sink, and it's been chaos and change ever since! Maybe we should swap the lamps and towels for a fake plant and end this cycle of madness.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
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