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This Is Not A Travel Blog

This Is Not A Travel Blog

I promise not to turn this into a travel blog, but several things are troubling me. And they involve, well, travel.

Which makes sense because that’s what I’m doing this week.

Indulge me, please. I’ll be back to griping about nanny government and Virginia Beach corruptocrats soon enough.

First, I’m happy to report that our no-frills Frontier Airlines experience on Monday was fine. We took off from Norfolk. We landed in Orlando. We didn’t crash.

I was, however, a little surprised by what passes for a “tray table” on Frontier’s aircraft. It was more like a “tray ledge.” 

 Don’t ask why I’m wearing white nail polish. It seemed like a good idea at the time. 

Don’t ask why I’m wearing white nail polish. It seemed like a good idea at the time. 

Which is fine, I suppose. As there aren’t any snacks or drinks on Frontier. Unless you buy them, that is.

But that’s not what’s bothering me. This is:

On Monday evening, As we waited by the baggage carousel in the Orlando Airport,  a woman with a fluffy white dog - a maltipoo, perhaps or a runty Bichon Frise - trotted by.

I took notice because the pooch bore a slight resemblance to my little white dogs. The ones who wear what we euphemistically refer to as “pants,” because they are free spirits. Rather, they’re 13 years old and not housebroken.

Naturally, this traveling dog sported the ubiquitous “Service Dog” vest. Airports are suddenly full of these aristocratic canines who travel for free with their owners. (Oops. Just remembered that PETA objects to the concept of pet ownership and wants us to refer to ourselves as companions or friends of our dogs.)

I narrowed my eyes and watched the little mutt in the vest. I’m suspicious of these animals. Or rather their human pals.

Sure enough, when he thought no one was looking, Therapy Dog pooped.

On the carpet.

In the middle of the baggage claim area.

Watch where you step in airports. You’ve been warned.

OK, the other thing that has me a little bemused was a comment left on my Facebook page by a guy - we’ll just call him “Gary” - who was not happy to hear I was taking my daughter and granddaughter to Disney. I didn’t discover his lemon-sucking remarks and the backlash to them until late Monday evening.

Here’s what he had to say:

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Gary’s cynical take on theme parks received a strong reaction. No one had a better come back than my old Pilot colleague Dave Addis:

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Exactly.

I can’t imagine going to a “real life” theme park. One where you could, perhaps, experience the fun of losing your job. Watching your grandmother die. Or getting a speeding ticket.

I can’t speak for everyone heading into Disney World tomorrow, but I’m going to see my granddaughter’s happy face. And to escape whatever foul sludge emanates from Washington.

 

 

 

Dimes And Dreams Of Disney

Dimes And Dreams Of Disney

Heading Toward Happiness

Heading Toward Happiness