sorry lacosta, but . . .
Florida sucked.
As Inga indicated covertly, I was in Orlando for a conference last week(end). It blew. Okay, so the weather was lovely, but what with it hovering around 70* in my back yard, it wasn't the temperate getaway it could've been for, say, Inga or our Yankee friends. And, okay, so the resort the conference was at was enormous and swank, but when you're sitting in a hide-a-wall-enclosed "room" listening to tips on using technology to track program assessment trends, the rest of the resort doesn't hold quite the sway it would otherwise do in Orlando in December.
On the suck-side, I got sick, my travelling companion broke her toe, the conference was totally unproductive, our flight home was cancelled, and we drove 70 miles home with a strange man-boy.
Yeah, so we arrived late Friday, and by Saturday morning, I'd been hit by the mucous-bus. Aches, pains, snot, the whole nine yards. Which, we know, makes for a pleasant conference experience. By Sunday, I was realizing the conference would be a bust for anything useful to take back to the classroom, and that morning the woman I'd come with broke her toe by kicking the hotel bed. In my sick and jealous haze, all I could think was that she had a solid excuse to skip sessions that day, but I spent the morning learning that we should organize our classes around a central theme!! to get students involved and grounded in the material. Rocket-fucking-science, y'all. Oh, and I learned that in the next five years, there will be a six-fold increase in the number of students seeking both undergrad and post-graduate degrees online. I can't wait for that flood of highly qualified schmoes to come applying for teaching jobs at brick-and-mortar universities!
By Monday, the sessions were so unbearable that I went to Epcot instead of the conference. Maybe if I'd have felt less shitty, or maybe if I were 8 or 65, or maybe if I hadn't actually been to Europe or Japan, the place would have been more fun. As it stands, I just can't see the draw of crappy reconstructions of famous locales, chosen for their affiliation with marketable animated films, and overpriced shitty food and "souveniers." Why not take the $3000+ you'll spend on a trip to Disney and instead take your family to a/the real Shambles in York or Eiffel Tower or 5-storied pagoda or ziggurats in Morocco or ruins in the Yukatan or fucking anywhere that isn't made of plaster and wire and ugly tourism?!
The worst part of the day came during lunch at a sushiya, where on my right at the counter sat an American family -- father, mother, and daughter. Mom and Pop were eating sushi and rolls; Sissy was eating a hoagie, since an adolescent girl couldn't possibly be expected to try an unfamiliar food. The waitstaff and hostesses at the restaurant didn't speak much English -- obviously Japanese imports meant to be as much part of the xenophilic experience as the sushi itself -- and the American family's waitress misunderstood their question when they asked whether their combination plate came with any more items. She thought they were asking to order more and brought them a menu. At this, they fumed. "Unbelievable." "She can't even speak English." "What are they doing around here." "This is ridiculous." I sat confused, and unlike myself, quiet. The woman left the restaurant on her cell phone expounding loudly that "They don't even speak English here. Go somewhere else." WHAT THE FUCK??!? You've gone someplace to experience the joys of gawking at the foreigners without putting yourself into the position of uncertainty and dis-ease of being the foreigner, yet you're still unwilling to even accommodate the barely limited (and astonishingly competent) language skills of your waitstaff? Blow me.
On a positive note, the couple to my left had a nine-year-old daughter, who ate salmon and tuna sashimi and tuna rolls (but turned down the octopus and yellowfin) happily and eagerly. That father sipped his miso soup straight from the bowl and had happy conversations with his daughter rather than ignoring her or talking down to her. They reassured me about the state of the human beings who become tourists.
THEN, our connecting flight was delayed, and the flight back to home was cancelled at the last minute, so we flew into a nearby city and planned to rent a car to get home. When we finally made it to _____, no rental cars were available. There was, however, a young man who had a reservation but couldn't afford the deposit required for him to actually get the car. We took his reservation, paid for the car, and took him with us back to _____. Nothing to wrap up a crap trip and a weekend full of coughing like an hour-long drive with a potential serial killer.
Oh, and there's a raccoon in the garage.
As Inga indicated covertly, I was in Orlando for a conference last week(end). It blew. Okay, so the weather was lovely, but what with it hovering around 70* in my back yard, it wasn't the temperate getaway it could've been for, say, Inga or our Yankee friends. And, okay, so the resort the conference was at was enormous and swank, but when you're sitting in a hide-a-wall-enclosed "room" listening to tips on using technology to track program assessment trends, the rest of the resort doesn't hold quite the sway it would otherwise do in Orlando in December.
On the suck-side, I got sick, my travelling companion broke her toe, the conference was totally unproductive, our flight home was cancelled, and we drove 70 miles home with a strange man-boy.
Yeah, so we arrived late Friday, and by Saturday morning, I'd been hit by the mucous-bus. Aches, pains, snot, the whole nine yards. Which, we know, makes for a pleasant conference experience. By Sunday, I was realizing the conference would be a bust for anything useful to take back to the classroom, and that morning the woman I'd come with broke her toe by kicking the hotel bed. In my sick and jealous haze, all I could think was that she had a solid excuse to skip sessions that day, but I spent the morning learning that we should organize our classes around a central theme!! to get students involved and grounded in the material. Rocket-fucking-science, y'all. Oh, and I learned that in the next five years, there will be a six-fold increase in the number of students seeking both undergrad and post-graduate degrees online. I can't wait for that flood of highly qualified schmoes to come applying for teaching jobs at brick-and-mortar universities!
By Monday, the sessions were so unbearable that I went to Epcot instead of the conference. Maybe if I'd have felt less shitty, or maybe if I were 8 or 65, or maybe if I hadn't actually been to Europe or Japan, the place would have been more fun. As it stands, I just can't see the draw of crappy reconstructions of famous locales, chosen for their affiliation with marketable animated films, and overpriced shitty food and "souveniers." Why not take the $3000+ you'll spend on a trip to Disney and instead take your family to a/the real Shambles in York or Eiffel Tower or 5-storied pagoda or ziggurats in Morocco or ruins in the Yukatan or fucking anywhere that isn't made of plaster and wire and ugly tourism?!
The worst part of the day came during lunch at a sushiya, where on my right at the counter sat an American family -- father, mother, and daughter. Mom and Pop were eating sushi and rolls; Sissy was eating a hoagie, since an adolescent girl couldn't possibly be expected to try an unfamiliar food. The waitstaff and hostesses at the restaurant didn't speak much English -- obviously Japanese imports meant to be as much part of the xenophilic experience as the sushi itself -- and the American family's waitress misunderstood their question when they asked whether their combination plate came with any more items. She thought they were asking to order more and brought them a menu. At this, they fumed. "Unbelievable." "She can't even speak English." "What are they doing around here." "This is ridiculous." I sat confused, and unlike myself, quiet. The woman left the restaurant on her cell phone expounding loudly that "They don't even speak English here. Go somewhere else." WHAT THE FUCK??!? You've gone someplace to experience the joys of gawking at the foreigners without putting yourself into the position of uncertainty and dis-ease of being the foreigner, yet you're still unwilling to even accommodate the barely limited (and astonishingly competent) language skills of your waitstaff? Blow me.
On a positive note, the couple to my left had a nine-year-old daughter, who ate salmon and tuna sashimi and tuna rolls (but turned down the octopus and yellowfin) happily and eagerly. That father sipped his miso soup straight from the bowl and had happy conversations with his daughter rather than ignoring her or talking down to her. They reassured me about the state of the human beings who become tourists.
THEN, our connecting flight was delayed, and the flight back to home was cancelled at the last minute, so we flew into a nearby city and planned to rent a car to get home. When we finally made it to _____, no rental cars were available. There was, however, a young man who had a reservation but couldn't afford the deposit required for him to actually get the car. We took his reservation, paid for the car, and took him with us back to _____. Nothing to wrap up a crap trip and a weekend full of coughing like an hour-long drive with a potential serial killer.
Oh, and there's a raccoon in the garage.
posted by stella at 1:42 PM
2 Comments:
I'm so sorry it was crap, but I have to tell you that you were doomed from the start. Why? Because you were in Whorelando. It's not really Florida - it's an escaped bubble from the seventh circle of Hell. No good can come from Whorelando. My perfect man and I have had our one and only ugly fight (the rest are "discussions") in Whorelando. We have vowed to go back there someday to conquer it, but I'm afraid.
On a lighter note, The Real South Florida is calling you. Palm Beach International Airport has been deemed one of the best by cK, and we know a few fun places to hang out, drink with good people and eat some fresh seafood by the water. All in all, a prety nice time. If you find yourself a little south of Hell (otherwise known as Whorelando, The Crappy Tourist Magnet), let me know...I'd be happy to redeem our State.
why is it that the form of academia we're in always has conferences in places like cincinatti or louisville or whorelando? why can't we ever go places like portland or seattle or san diego on our colleges's dimes? so unfair!
i can't believe you traveled with a potential serial killer! was he as handsome as dexter?
and you know what they say. first come the raccoons. then come the possums. then? armagedeon.
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