White People Mall

As you may recall from previous posts, we Houghs fancy any family outting that ends up with us staring at animals in captivity.

Hence our obsession with Sea World.

With only one more day left until our annual family passes were set to expire, we decided to enjoy one last afternoon of taking pictures of our kids watching dolphins swim aimlessly about a tank.

Unbeknownst to us at the time of our leaving the house, every single person in Orlando was struck with the exact same idea.

We had never seen Sea World so backed up; it took a half hour just to pull up to the ticket window.  Once through the parking entrance, the lot itself was packed full of idiots who were doing the exact same thing we were trying to do.  Knowing that inside the park would be even worse (Seaworld's thoroughfares bottleneck like crazy, making a simple action like 'walking around' nerve-wracking as it is), we convinced our kids that Sea World was 'too busy' and decided, instead, to try out a new mall so Yours Truly could return a shirt.

Which sounds just as cool as 'Sea World' when you're four years old.

Favorite Shirt, ca. 2008 (feat. tax deduction #1)

Kris bought me a western-style shirt for Christmas from Sheplers - the clothing line that constructed my all-time favorite shirt (which I've worn religously since I was 19 - see above).

I hadn't been able to find another one like it since, so when she stumbled across this store recently, she promptly snatched up a shirt for me.  The fit and material was the exact same, but - seeing how I'm pretty anal when it comes to clothing - I wanted to see if they had the shirt in a different color.  So, with Seaworld out of the equation, so we decided to make a family outing out of it.

Shepler's is located in the Festival Bay Mall, which sits near Inter-national Drive, deep within the bowels of Tourist Hell.  We braced ourselves for the inevitable, knowing that anything touristy in Orlando means traffic congestion, packs of pale-skinned fanny-packers, and lots and lots of stupid people (see botched Seaworld venture above).

You can therefore imagine our shock and surprise upon entering the Festive Bay Mall and finding it utterly deserted. . .

The place was nearly empty.  Maybe a dozen other folks walking around.  That's it.  What freaked me out more than the lack of people, however, was the lack of stores.  You'd figure a shopping complex deep inside enemy territory would be chock-full of people ready to burn off the extra cash in their pockets, but nay - nearly all the storefronts we passed were barred up.  In fact, besides Sheplers, we really only saw three other places that displayed any sign of human life:  Outdoor World, a blacklit put-put course and arcade, and a Cinemaplex.

Seriously.

To make things creepier (if that were at all possible) was that the mall was in pristine condition - not like other decaying shopping centers I've had the misfortune of strolling through.  It was clean, well-lit, and looked like a decent place. . . just without, you know, people and stores.  Those individuals we did come across all had one thing in common:

They were all white.

Now, I'm no racist, but I think it's pretty fair to say that here in Central Florida, our demographics are fairly misrepresentative of the rest of the country.  We're an urban melting pot, and our diversity in ethnicity and culture reflects that.

 . . so why the hell do whites gravitate towards the Festival Bay Mall while all others avoid it like the plague?  What is it about Outdoor World and Shepler's Western Wear that screams 'WHITE PEOPLE!!' and discourages non-white folks from-

Oh.  Nevermind.

I guess I answered my own question.

She was pretty pissed we failed to get her this for Christmas.

This closed store was completely empty. . . except for a gigantic, yellow submarine.  So if any of you guys out there are in the market for a new submarine, and fancy yourself the color yellow, I believe I may be able to help you out. . .

Anyway, here's a few things I learned during our visit to White People Mall:

1.)  I should've been buying shirts at Shepler's my entire adult life.  Holy crap, that store rules.  Had I done so, my life would probably be way awesomer.  I'd probably be stunt man or a bounty hunter or something badass along those lines instead of a measly middle school history teacher.  And I'd probably drive a more bitchin' car.  With racing stripes.  AND I'd probably have a super-sweet mustache.

I'm just sayin'.

2.)  I need a gun.  That's the first thing that crossed my mind when I walked into the Outdoor World/Bass Pro Shop.  Not that I'm big on shooting guns, but whenever you pass by a wall display of hundreds of firearms it's nigh impossible to not imagine yourself shooting bad guys and dangerous animals and whatever other nastiness might try killing your family members.

Am I right, folks?

3.) I miss mid-Michigan.  Not all the time or anything, but whenever you find yourself surrounded by that redneck, boot-stompin', townie-vibe you can only find in a sporting goods store or a county fair, you can't help but miss rural Clare County.   The Festival Bay Mall succeeded, if only for an afternoon, in giving us a small escape into a Jay's Sporting Goods-eque world, and it was very nostalgic.  Of course, none of us Houghs are avid fishermen, hunters, or outdoor enthusiasts. . .

. . .but that's besides the point.

- Brian

St. Patrick's Day 2012

Hi folks,

St. Patrick's Day is a huge deal in this house.  We don't get excited about much around here, but when March 17th rolls around, considered us 'pumped.'

This year was no different.  Observe:

Kris had a few Irish social engagements via the Order of Extraordinary Moms, and volunteered to Irish-up the playdates. . . for whatever reason substituting whiskey with sugar cookies.  Who knows.

(We ate the hell out of these, by the way. . .)

SUGAR!!!

At Eagle Park, with Alayna's beau, Derrick

No idea what she's holding here. . .

More sugar.

St. Patrick's Day fell on a Saturday this year, which was awesome 'cause we got to celebrate it the way it should be celebrated - from sun-up to sun-down (I despise working on St. Pat's).  Basically this entails us serving breakfast with green food coloring, Yours Truly having a morning cocktail, and jammin' out to some Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem while preparing for our departure to Melbourne. . .

Drinking some 'Irish' juice (no booze, don't worry) and some not-so-Irish, store-brand Fruit Loops.

Arts and crafts. . .

Breakfast of Champions: toasted green-egg, ham, and cheese sandwich, and a Jameson tonic.

"Slainté!"

The Simpsons celebrate St. Patrick's Day - the 'prohibition' episode.  One of my personal favs. . . .

Dollin' up the tax deductions. . .

Weapon of choice.

This year, as we've done for the previous three, we opted to head out to Melbourne for their big St. Patrick's day blowout.  Once again, the Voigts were coming along with us. . . but this year, Clint was making the trip out as well.

We ended up leaving Orlando around 10:00am, which put us into Melbourne a little past 11am. . .  just late enough to make parking a huge pain in the ass.  The St. Patrick's Day Parade the City of Melbourne puts on kicks off at 11am, and usually we're able to find an easy parking space in a nearby bank parking lot.  This year, unfortunately, we weren't so lucky - everything was packed by the time we got there.

After a failed attempt at finding a spot in a nearby parking structure, we were forced to split up - Adam, Clint and I took the girls and attempted to catch the parade while Kris and Lindsey tried to scrounge up a parking space. . .

. . . they ended up finding a spot at this church, some four days walk from Meg O'Malley's, where the festivities were centered.

This year's turnout was WAY busier than usual - getting close to the parade route was more or less impossible.  The kids weren't a huge fan of the noise anyway, though. . . 

The Food Tent - we pounced on this early this year, as the line fills up fast and then you're stuck boozin' on an empty stomach in the sun.  Not so awesome.

We were lucky enough to secure a table under the tent, too - which is unheard of, and only happened because we missed the damn parade.  So I guess that's the silver lining to our morning screw-up. . . 

KRIS HUNGRY!!!

My lunch? A 32oz Guinness and crackers.  Bam.

Family Portraits, © Cannonball

Meg O'Malley's Irish Fest '12 - WAY more crowded than we've ever seen it. . .

Old people galore. . .

This year Meg O'Malley's brought back the bounce houses, which was awesome 'cause it gave the Cannonball something to do and kept her from getting into mischief. . .

Pipin'

This was the closest thing we got to a family portrait this year.  Go figure.

The Voigts

By the late afternoon, the girls were pretty much funned-out.  The sun and the crowds and the boredom had more or less worn their patience razor-thin, and they were not having any more of it.  We had packed tons of books, toys, snacks, etc. for them, but they just wanted to run around and throw themselves into certain peril. . . which, in a parking lot full of sweaty drunks, isn't something a hobbit-sized person should do.  The alternative to this, of course, was to hold them.  More often than not, against their will.

I'm sure you can imagine how much fun it was trying to enjoy a beer while holding a writhing toddler - kinda kills the whole 'festive' thing.

Anyway, after not being able to put one/both of them down over the course of two or three hours, we were ready to leave ourselves.  After walking the two-dozen blocks back to the van, our party posse swung by a local McDonald's for a healthy dinner and much-needed bathroom breaks.  The kids got their grease-and-sugar fix, and we got a moment to breathe. . .

McSharing McNuggets

After McDonald's, a few of us decided to seize a siesta on the way back to Orlando.  ¡Es muy bueno!

In conclusion, all in all, this was definitely the crappiest St. Pat's we've celebrated over the last three years.  We showed up late and missed the parade, parking sucked, Melbourne was packed, the kids were whining all day, and we missed most of our traditional photo ops (ex. the Leprechaun and the Band Leader we always have our pictures taken with, the photo booth family shot, etc. etc.).

And you know how much I love my pictures.

Next year we're probably not making the drive out to Melbourne.  Screw it.  It was fine while the kids were younger, and they didn't mind hanging out in a stroller, but now that they're getting older keeping them entertained while we booze it up is getting ridiculous.

Apparently there's an Irish pub right next door to the Voigts' house that holds some shindig for St. Patrick's Day - we'll probably just hit that up instead.

Sweet Jesus, do I miss the Doherty.

- Brian