We arrived in Southern California hungry.
Starving.
No one ate before we left the house. And we certainly didn't have time to chow down en route.
So we arrived in Long Beach with nothing but food on our mind.
Well, not MY mind.
I needed to get out of my footwear. Those boots HAD to be removed. And the clothes I had on? Were not appropriate for a sunny afternoon in California. So after we picked up the soccer-mom mini van, we headed east with no map.
No map because on Every Single Trip I've ever taken with Clint, he has scoffed at paper maps and touted the glories of his phone's GPS. On this trip, however, it was too expensive to access to his data plan. So we winged it. Poorly.
Instead of taking one of the hundreds freeways available to us, we chose to be transported from Long Beach to Anaheim via a 2 lane road littered with stop lights at every corner. It took longer than anticipated to get to our hotel, and I had tunnel vision regarding my wardrobe. And my need to get these clothes off. And another layer of make up on. Plus? My hair? Needed attention. I was fully committed to making this holiday about the kids, but only after I was physically comfortable.
This, in retrospect was a mistake.
A rookie error.
A hungry child/boy/man is an irritable one.
By 6:00 pm some of us were eating in McDonald's. One of us wouldn't get out of the van. A few of us had headaches. Two of us were overly eager to get on some rides. One of us kept praying for a miracle so that this holiday would get better.
And then? Then?
We walked through the gates of the Happiest Place on Earth.
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