Erin and the Florida Incident (Part 3)

I.                   The Battle of the Radio

“Mom, I think Erin’s dead.”

My mother looked back from the passenger seat of our van to examine Erin’s still, unconscious form sitting upright in the seat next to me while I idly read, her head idly lolling along with every bump in the highway, and her tongue hanging out from the side of her mouth not unlike a thirsty dog who has been shot with elephant tranquilizers.  “Oh, Craig, she’s just sleeping…” she said dismissively, at first, before taking a moment to add:  “…right?”

I poked Erin’s cheek with my index finger.  She waved off my hand and made a vague, incoherent, irritable groan, and shifted position.

“Nope,” I said.  “She’s just sleeping… again.”  We had been on the road for hours, driving through Tennessee, on the cusp of hitting Georgia.  When we picked Erin up at her house, it was all very exciting:  I helped load her veritable armada of luggage into the van, before she climbed in to sit right next to me in the middle seat, while my brother and sister sat with each other in the backseat.  The trip started off with lots of laughter and goofing off, as I fully expected it would.  I was riding high on the crest of extreme self-confidence at having pulled off this coup and became so emboldened that I even managed to sneak my arm around Erin’s shoulders a few times while making jokes about the sexy adventures we were sure to have on this vacation.  At this point in my life, I considered any physical contact with a girl I liked to be a major achievement, especially since it happened so rarely. 

Yes, it had all been going so well… until we hit the first of many metaphorical, and increasingly jarring, speed bumps.  My dad was driving along, listening to his favorite classic rock station on the radio, and drumming his fingers along to “Stroke Me” by Billy Squier.  

 Erin's face twisted in distaste and asked:  “What the hell are listening to?  This is awful travel music!”  Without any hesitation whatsoever, she then proceeded to lean into the front of the van, between my parents, and change the channel on the radio to her favorite pop station, where “Too Close” by Next happened to be playing.
  

“Now that’s more like it,” Erin announced and started singing along while moving her shoulders to the rhythm.  Meanwhile, my mom looked at me with a look of wild-eyed shock at what just transpired.  My brother couldn’t help but let out an awe-inspired:  “Holy crap!”  As for myself, I took a moment to look at Erin with a renewed admiration her courage.  It was an unspoken rule that when dad was driving, he was in charge of the radio.  He may change the channel upon request, but one never, ever changed the channel without permission, especially if he was so enamored by a song that he was drumming his fingers to it on the steering wheel.  In point of fact, this is a particular pet peeve that I happen to share with my dad – few things incur my wrath quicker than somebody messing with my car stereo while I’m driving.  If someone turns the volume down without asking me first, then I just turn it up louder than it was before.  The point I’m trying to make is that this was a big freaking deal.  My dad was caught in a rare moment of indecision between rage and confusion at this unprecedented, egregious breach of Dad Car Law.  

My dad was torn – while he was certainly outraged, he couldn’t reprimand Erin like he would any one of us.  For one, Erin wasn’t his child to reprimand, but I also think he was confused because she happened to be a very attractive girl, and it’s a fact of life that hot girls have a way of muddling the male mind.  A hot girl could run over a man’s foot, and he’d probably go:  “Ow, son-of-a-bitch, you broke my fucking foot!  You broke my fucking foot!  I will sue the shit out of you, I..." (notices the girl is hot) “-uh, you know, it’s alright, it’s alright.  I think I’ll be fine.  Feet are overrated anyway.  So… (casually leans against the car) …what are you into?”
  

Despite her hotness, though, her insolence could not go unanswered.  I could see it coming a mile away:  my dad’s evil grin, while looking into the rearview mirror, and shifting ever so slightly in his seat.  “Nooo!” I screamed, but it was too late:  my dad farted.  I called this dropping the “F-Bomb”, because my dad’s farts had the devastating power of an atomic bomb.  My dad has an almost superhuman ability to disburse the most vile smelling, long-lasting farts on Earth.  Honest to god, he can even make his farts follow you around like a trained squad of furious deadly bees that only get more agitated the more you try to get away from them.  For example, one time we were at Kroger, and my dad farted while in the check out line.  People from one end of the check out area to the other were looking up, sniffing, coughing, even gagging, while asking if someone let off a stink bomb or if a sewer main broke.  The range of this fart was so unbelievable that people's brain could not accept the possibility that the source was one person.  I’m not lying when I say that my dad’s farts are so bad that it has deadened my ability to smell anyone else’s farts, which is a mixed blessing to say the least.

The fart rapidly spread through the car like tear gas.  “Ah, Danny!” my mom cried out, while coughing and gagging.  She rolled the window and stuck her head out like a dog.

Erin stopped singing and joined the chorus of gagging. “Holy… *cough*… god… I can’t… breath…”  I immediately pulled out the "Emergency Fart Kit" that I keep hidden in the car for just these occasions.  It consisted of a book of matches, Vaseline, and Lysol air freshener.  I dabbed some Vaseline under my nose, and handed it to Erin. 

“Here… this... will... help…” I strained to tell her in between breaths.  She dabbed some under her nose as well, but continued gagging.

“I can still taste it… honest to god, I can taste it!” she managed to say.  “Craig, you have to do something!”

“I’m trying, dammit, can’t you see that I’m trying?”  I furiously lit matches, one after the other. 

The entire time my dad just laughed and shrugged.  “That’s what happens.”  He turned the station back to classic rock.

***

The bulk of the trip was spent with Erin taking sporadic naps, while I read whatever Star Wars novel I had brought with me for the trip.  I could never sleep in moving vehicles – the constant jostling, coupled with the discomfort of trying to sleep while sitting upright, made me nauseas, so I had to experience every waking, boring minute of any given road trip.  The ease with which Erin sank into sleep was disappointing, if only because I was counting on her hanging out with her to make the trip quicker.  

On the occasions that she finally rejoined us in the world of the living, she’d politely ask if she could change the radio station.  She was learning fast, this one!  She found another pop station, and “Still the One” by Shania Twain happened to be playing.

“Oh my god, this is me and Jake’s song!” Erin said in excitement, clapping her hands.
 

My heart went THUD so loudly that I'm surprised dad didn't mistake the sound for hitting roadkill.  It’s funny how something as seemingly insignificant as a song, or the mention of an unwelcome name, can not only derail one’s mood, but completely undermine one’s confidence.  It felt as if the car had run off the road and fallen into a ravine.  When the trip had started, I had somehow blissfully forgotten the fact that Erin had a boyfriend waiting for her to come running back into his arms.  Now reality had bitch slapped me in the form of a mediocre, sappy country music song.
 

“You… you guys a song?” I asked.  “I mean... haven’t you guys only been officially dating for, like, a couple of months?  And you already have a song?”

“Yeah.  I think it just so perfectly describes our relationship, you know?”

I listened to some of the lyrics of the song, which went:

Looks like we made it,
look how far we've come my baby.
They said, "I'll bet, they'll never make it."
But look at the story now.
Still together, still going strong! 

“Blegh!" I said.  "Are you kidding me?"

"What?"

"It's just that this song is about a real relationship."

“Oh, so me and Jake’s relationship is not real?”

The temperature in the van dropped considerably.  I didn’t want to get into this argument, not here, not now, 
not ever.  The point of the trip wasn’t to trash Jake, or point out the flaws in Erin’s “relationship” with him, but to eclipse him entirely so that it was a no-brainer for her to be with me instead.  It was supposed to be a bloodless coup d’état.  Erin’s sudden mood swing to “frigid defensiveness” at the slightest critique of her and Jake’s relationship suggested to me that this was not going to be an easy transition, nor bloodless.

Of course, instead of doing the sensible thing and dropping the issue, I continued explaining my position like the idiot I was:  "Well, it's just that, you know, the song is about a relationship that has more, um, history and endurance, I guess.  You and Jake just met while working at Papa Johns, like, three months ago."


"We've been together for almost a year, Craig!" She snapped back.


I shrugged.  "Whatever.  My point is, this is the kind of song you'd play at your wedding, but not after a year of just dating."


"Oh, so now we're 'just dating'?"


I finally wised up a bit.  "Ugh, you know, just never mind!"  I put on my headphones and fired up my walkman.  The tension between us was palpable and we hadn't even left Kentucky yet.

After a few more rounds of “Still the One”, Erin would occasionally switch it up with “All My Life” by K-Ci and Jo-Jo, another song she insisted was exclusively written about her and Jake.  Naturally, I objected to this on principle, explaining that the song is way too melodramatic to realistically be about anyone, much less someone like Jake.  "What the hell do you mean 'someone like Jake'?"  Erin asked testily.  

I rolled my eyes.  "I mean, come on, you've waited 'all your life' and prayed for someone like him?  Really?"

"Do you got a problem with that?"


"You know what?  I have the perfect solution to this."  I reached over and changed the channel to a rock station, where “Shimmer” by Fuel was playing.   "Oh, hey, perfect!  This is my song!  It's totally about me!  The lead singer called me up and was like, 'Hey Craig, I'm really hitting a wall with song, and wondered if you had any life experience really help flesh it out', and I emailed him the lyrics right away!"


Erin was visibly pissed, looking out the window with her arms crossed.

“What?” I asked, after a beat of silence.

She shrugged.  “Nothing.  I was having fun, just listening to my music, and now you're being a huge jerk.”

“We’ve been listening to your ‘music’…” and, yes, I did use air quotes, “…for most of the trip, so sor~ry if I want to good music for a change!”

"Okay!" My mom interjected, before Erin could respond.  "That's enough!  Craig, you have a CD player, so if you want to listen to your music, listen to that.  Erin is your guest, so let her listen to whatever she wants!"

"Ugh, gawd!" I groaned.

"Talk to someone you know," my dad shot back, as he did whenever I used the word "god" as a curse.

II.                   E.T. Puts the “Terror” in Extra Terrestrial

We mercifully arrived in Orlando and checked into a Holiday Inn.  I pulled Erin aside for a private talk.

“Hey, Erin, sorry I was such a jerk about the radio.  It was such a long trip and I was just in a shitty mood.”

Her arms were still crossed, but the tension seemed to leave her body.  “You weren't a jerk..." she said in mock reassurance.  "...you were a total asshole."


"Fair enough," I admitted, clearing my throat.  “Look, tomorrow we’re going to Universal Studios, and then the next day my cousins will be here and we’re all going to Disney World.  So let’s try to have fun, okay?”

“Sounds good to me,” she said.  We hugged.  “Well… I need to call my parents and let them know we made it.”

“Sure,” I agreed.  "Are you going to start the call by going, 'Looks like we made it...'?"

She laughed.  "Good one!"

I shrugged.  "I try."

"That reminds me, I need to call Jake too."  She bounded into the hotel room.  I swallowed the anger his name aroused.

***

I was actually looking forward to going to Universal Studios for a couple of reasons, the first of which being that I was (and remain) a huge movie buff.  I used to collect the now defunct movie magazine, Cinescape and read each issue cover-to-cover.  I’d regularly visit movie websites to keep myself updated on all the upcoming films and collect any information about them I could, much like a sports nerd collected stats.  I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, but I knew with complete certainty that I wanted to be involved in movie production in some capacity, even, dare I say, as a director.  So going to Universal Studios, even if it’s more of at theme park than an actual working movie studio, was like a religious experience for me.

The second reason I was excited to be at Universal Studios had to do with fulfilling a long held childhood dream:  visiting Nickelodeon Studios.

 

All throughout my childhood, Nickelodeon Studios was a building that served two functions:  to constantly pump out television programming for my eager young brain to voraciously consume, while also standing as a tantalizing, multi-colored, funhouse full of anything a kid could ever conceivably desire.  If Willy Wonka created a television studio, it would look like Nickelodeon studios.

In fact, I insisted we make that our first stop once we crossed the threshold of the park, marked by the golden Universal Studios globe.  An actor playing Doc Brown, from Back to the Future, immediately ran up to my dad, and sprayed him on the head with a bottle of water.   “Great Scott!” Doc Brown exclaimed in a pitch perfect impersonation of Christopher Lloyd.  “My hair growth compound doesn’t work!  I must rework the formula!”  

My dad laughed politely, while wiping the water from his scalp, and muttering to himself, “Heh heh… you son-of-a-bitch.”  Whenever we went to a theme park, it was inevitable that one of the mascots will mess with my dad.  I don’t know what it is about him that makes him such an easy mark, but it always happened.  My family and I stifled our laughter, because we knew that if dad’s mood soured, he’d switch into what we called “Let’s Go Mode”, which is when dad makes us speed walk through a park, or zoo, constantly barking: “Let’s go!”  He'd only allow us to do anything that wasn’t too time consuming or expensive.  When dad was in “Let’s Go Mode”, we’d typically leave a park within the hour those two words first pass his lips.

The only way to prevent or neutralize “Let’s Go Mode” is if we can get beer in my dad in a quick and efficient manner.  

Fortunately, he found a place to get beer within minutes of his encounter with Doc Brown, so his annoyance was pacified.  He wasn’t so pacified, though, that he was willing to endure Nickelodeon Studios, so he and my mom went off on their own, while Erin, my little brother, my little sister, and I all went to Nickelodeon.  We had to stand in line in a shaded area right outside the entrance to the studio, that had TVs hanging at intervals throughout the line, some of them playing popular Nickelodeon shows, and others were hooked up to a Nintendo.  “Oh, goddamn it, I love you Nickelodeon!” I said, rather too loudly in front of the other kids in line, as I snatched the controller from a kid who had to advance further in the line and began playing Super Mario Bros. 2.  When the tour guide finally let us go inside, Erin had to physically pull me away while I whined, “Gah, no, but I’m about to beat Birdo!”

As we walked into the sweet relief of a fully air-conditioned television studio, I couldn’t help but notice that I wasn’t as excited as I thought I’d be.  I had imagined this moment on countless occasions; I had even entered contests to win a chance to walk into these doors!  However, the place had the unmistakable feeling that it had seen better days.  It felt like going to a shitty Toys R’ Us as an adult – you just remember it being bigger and more grandiose, not a rundown shadow of its former glory.  As we walked the studio, everything seemed so… small.  I remember walking by windows, and seeing offices full of cubicles, and reflecting on how, even behind the wacky facade of fun, Nickelodeon was run in a soul-deadening office.  

Many of the studios were locked and in disuse, which felt like the time I went to Mr. Gatti’s with my parents only to find it had been closed because of vandalism.  I had expected the place to be bustling with activity, and recognizable Nick stars like Mark Summers or the guy that played "Ug" in Salute Your Shorts to walk by on their way to whatever show they were in this time.  

We all crowded into the sound-stage where Double Dare used to shoot, and proceeded to play an impromptu game show similar to Double Dare, where random members of the audience were selected to answer random trivia and play messy games for prizes.  My sister and brother were still young enough to enjoy all of this, but Erin and I exchanged glances that were unmistakably full of teen angst which seemed to say, Ugh, we’re so over this.  

When the tour was over, Erin said to me, “So… let’s do something more grown up.”

I rubbed my hands together gleefully.  “Is it sexy?”

She rolled her eyes.  “No, I mean, I want to ride something."

“I got something for you to ride, baby!”

“Ugh,” she replied with exasperation and walked away.  

"What?" I asked innocently, trailing after her.

*** 

Before long we met up with my parents and we all went to the E.T. Ride.  This was the first time my little sister, Lindsey, ever went on a ride before, but we figured E.T. would be tame enough.  My mom and Lindsey sat in the very front of the cart, which was designed to look like the bicycles from the movie, complete with an ominously covered basket in the front.  My brother, Erin, and I sat in the seats behind them.  From beginning to end, the E.T. Ride ended up being the singularly most terrifying experience in my sister’s life, and adversely, one the most hilarious moments in my me and my brother’s lives
. 

The ride began with a frenzied trip through a dark forest, complete with animatronic FBI agents popping out from behind trees, shotguns pointed in my sister’s face.  Immediately, she became hysterical, trying to pry herself from the safety straps so that she could jump out the cart and run away.  My mom held Lindsey close in a futile attempt to calm her down, which was beginning to work until the moment came when E.T. unexpectedly popped out of the basket in front her, like a Jack-in-the-Box from Hell.  My sister continued screaming while she frantically attempted to stuff E.T. back into his little basket.  As if that weren’t bad enough, suddenly we were on E.T.’s “home planet”, where several members of his race welcomed us by pointing their glowing index fingers in Lindsey’s beat-red, sobbing face.  It should be noted that, by this point, my brother and I were practically suffocating from laughter at Lindsey’s expense.  Erin was throwing elbows at both of us to make us stop laughing, but she couldn’t help but find it funny too.

As soon as the ride was over, and the safety bars were lifted, my sister was up and out like a shot, so fast that my mom was caught totally unprepared.  Fortunately, dad was waiting outside, since he wasn’t allowed entry on account of his beer, and he managed to catch Lindsey before she ran any further.  Lindsey had had enough of Universal Studios and would not tolerate staying a minute longer.  She threw an epic tantrum, which was sufficient enough motivation for dad to shrug and say the two words we all dreaded:  “Let’s go.”

III.                   The Magic Kingdom… of Emotional Breakdowns

My Aunt Cyndi, Uncle Gary, and my four female cousins Missy, Mandy, Michelle, and Melinda all arrived at the hotel in their family van, which had no air conditioning, forcing them to keep all the windows open.  When the van pulled up, there were a pair of female legs sticking out of each window, as if they were preparing to shoot a ZZ Top video.  I would expect no less a spectacle to mark their arrival.  Melinda had brought her best friend Kristy on the trip as well.  Kristy was an attractive blond who was a bit shy, but had a sweet disposition and she seemed to take a liking to me.

My cousins hit it off with Erin almost immediately.  Erin’s ability to seamlessly blend into my family was part of the reason I was so crazy about her in the first place.  It always felt like she belonged in my family.

 

However much they liked her, though, they still seemed dubious about her presence on this trip.  They instantly surrounded her on all four sides to give her a thorough examination.  “So… are you, like, Craig’s girlfriend or something?” asked my cousin Mandy, with her trademark tendency to cut straight to the point.

“Ooh, Craig, get ya some!” Missy exclaimed, patting me on the shoulder in approval.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend!” Michelle said, laughing and clapping as if this were a delightfully ludicrous concept.

“She’s… pretty?” Melinda asked in a tone suggesting amazement.  I was getting the impression that, at any moment, my cousins were going to begin poking Erin with a stick to make sure she was real.

“Whoa, hey, come on now…” I said, clearly flustered, my face turning even more red than it got from walking around Universal Studios the previous day.  “…let’s give her some breathing space.”

Erin was just as flustered, but managed to nervously laugh it off.  “No no, I’m not his girlfriend, that’s crazy, we’re just friends!”

“Well, it’s not that crazy,” I tried to object, but I was ignored as my cousins tightened up the circle around Erin and continued talking to her as if I weren’t there.  I continued mumbling, mostly to myself:  “I mean, you know, it’s entirely natural for two friends to one day… develop feelings… for one another.  In fact, the reason I invited you in the first place was.... because... I kind of love you... but nobody’s listening to me, so… I’ll… just… go over here.”  I shuffled off while Erin and my cousins continued their impenetrable girl talk.

***

Once my cousins entered the picture, any hopes of venturing off into Disney World with Erin alone were dashed.  From the moment we entered the park, to the moment we left, Erin practically was constantly with my cousins, practically arm-in-arm, leaving me to enjoy Disney World with… my family.  Ugh.  For a horny teenager with romantic delusions of grandeur, being stuck on the "It’s a Small World After All" ride with my immediate family, while the girl I liked was traipsing about the park without me, was quite possibly the worst case scenario, next to her boyfriend making a surprise appearance.  The way this trip was going so far, I wasn’t prepared to totally discount that possibility.  Her boyfriend was certainly here in spirit.

I walked through the park with a glower not commonly seen in Disney World, with the exception of some of the employees that dared to frown, even though to do so might mean losing their job and, possibly, never being seen or heard from again.  Disney is nothing if not committed to maintaining the illusion of perfect joy in their theme parks.  However, I wasn’t having it.  I was walking a few paces behind my family, hands in pockets, and my shoulders stooped in such a way as to make my displeasure perfectly obvious.

“What’s the matter with you?” my mom asked in concern.

“Nothing,” I answered, without even looking in her direction.

 “Is it Erin?”

It all came out like, suddenly, like a torrent:  “It’s just that, I brought her on this trip, and paid for EVERYTHING… okay, well, most everything, and she doesn’t even care!  She just keeps yap-yap-yapping away about how FABULOUS Jake is, and how she just can’t WAIT to see him again, and it makes me sick!  It makes me so sick!  I hate Jake!  I’ve seen what he looks like and he’s not even good looking!  He looks like friggin’ Burt from Sesame Street!  She’s in Florida with me and she’s rather be back home with Burt from Sesame Street!”  I began panting, as I had said all of this in one breath.  

“Well, honey, have you tried telling her any of this?”

“I was going to tell her everything tonight while riding the gondola.”

“Why during the gondola?”

“You know, because gondolas are romantic and stuff.”

“Craig,” my mom said patiently.  “Forget the gondola.”

“Hmm, maybe you’re right.  Perhaps Space Mountain would be a better setting for this conversation.”

“That’s not what I mean."

"So you think I should do it on the gondola then?  Do they even have gondolas here?"

Mom sighed and looked up at the sky.  "Hmm, looks like rain..."

***

I met up with Erin and my cousins again in the line for The Haunted Mansion.  By this point, a monsoon of rain of had begun, and I was unsuccessfully trying to keep dry by holding a map to the park over my head.  Erin and the girls were flirting with a young Disney World attendant named Chad who’s job, apparently, was to flirt with cute girls in line, while being a smartass to any guys they appeared to be with.  As I stood there, mean mugging him, Chad, dressed in a rain poncho and holding an umbrella, asked:  “So, how’s that map working for you, buddy?  I can go get you the sports section of the newspaper if you think that will keep you dryer.”

"Heh heh heh... you son-of-a-bitch." I muttered.  My improvised map-umbrella fell to pieces almost immediately, leaving me drenched, and feeling quite foolish (a feeling I was beginning to become all too familiar with).  It was not an auspicious start for the talk I wanted to have with Erin.  It didn’t help, either, that my cousins were constantly around her like the secret service.  I finally got up close to her.

"So... there's something I wanted to talk to you about...." I started off nervously.

"What is it?"

"Well... the thing is..."

"Erin, come sit with us!" My cousins yelled.  Erin immediately aborted the still-born conversation and ran into the cart with them.  I tried to sit with them, but there was no room, so I had to sit the next cart over with a family of strangers.  As the ride started up, I desperately tried to continue the conversation.

"Hey, Erin!" I yelled over the loudspeakers that were explaining the history the Haunted Mansion.

"What?" She said.

"So... I just wanted to tell you..."  The carts lurched to a start, and we began going through the dark hallways of the mansion.  "I really like you!"

"What?" She yelled back, straining to hear.

"I said that I really like you!" I tried yelling over the ghostly laughs.  "In fact, I think I even love you!"

She made a face like she couldn't understand what I was saying, shrugged, and proceeded to focus on enjoying the ride.  By this point, our respective carts had turned in such a way that I couldn't even see her anymore.  We were in the "mirrored hallway" portion of the ride, where a ghostly apparition can be seen sitting next to you in the mirrors' reflection.  In my cart, there happened to be two ghostly apparitions:  the one from the ride, and me, sadly looking in Erin's direction. 

When the ride was over, Erin approached me.  "What were you saying in there?"

"Nothing," I said morosely.  "Nothing at all."

 

***

I elected not to speak to Erin at all the rest of the time we were at Disney World, which was just as well as she spent the rest of the time with my cousins.  I was so mad I refused to speak to anyone or ride anymore rides.  I was positively fuming.  This trip was not going the way I planned, and was, in fact, falling apart at the seams.  While everybody else rode Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, my dad and I stood waiting at the exit.  After he fended off Donald Duck, who came up to rub his bald head, he finally noticed something was amiss.  “What’s up with the attitude, sir?”

I shrugged.  “Nothing,” I said sullenly.

“Whatever it is, you need to snap out of it,” he said irritably without looking in my direction.  “You’re making a jackass of yourself.”  

Even though he was right, my dad’s frank approach was the last thing I needed to hear.  It was like throwing a brick into an already unbalanced dryer.  It sparked an almost hysterical fury.  “What?”  I asked, my voice shaking.  Tears began welling up in my eyes.  “How dare you?  You don’t understand what I’m going through!  Gawd!”

"Talk to someone you know!”

“Screw you!  I don’t need this!”  I began petulantly marching away.

“Get your ass back over here right now!”  The authority in my dad’s voice froze me in my tracks, and completely against my will, I pivoted an about-face, and walked back over to him.  By this point, my tears were trailing down my cheeks.  Yep, I was totally crying now… in front of my dad.   Why not one more indignity to add to the others?  It’d been one of those days.

“Unbelievable,” my dad said with disgust, as he took in the state of me.  We both stood in silence that was broken only with the sounds of my sniffling.  Finally, while Erin and my cousins started walking towards us at the exit, he heaved an irritated sigh, and said, “Good god, just get out of sight and pull yourself together before she sees you like this.  Hurry up.”

I quickly walked to opposite end of the exit, my glasses in hand, as I wiped my eyes and desperately tried to reign in my emotions.  I could vaguely hear my dad telling everybody that I had gone to the bathroom and that I would be back shortly.  I took a few deep breaths, and felt myself calm down a bit.  I was a mess.  This trip to Disney World proved on thing to me, and that was Erin didn't need me.  She was content to have fun by herself or with my cousins, but my presence was irrelevant.  This could not be any more opposite of how I thought this trip would go.  It was as shitty revelation to have, right there, in the middle of The Magic Kingdom, and the worst part was that this was merely the first week.  We had a whole other week ahead of us in Fort Meyers.  The only thought going through my head was: What the hell am I going to do?  What the hell am I going to do?

To be continued…