the big gay honeymoon – day six – lake patrol to major hom

Day Six – Lake Patrol to Major Hom

Given our little spell yesterday at Hollywood Studios, we decided a day relaxing by the pool and enjoying the Polynesian was in order. As a rule, we don’t tend to suffer ill-effects from the long flight other than nightmares about the woman who had a face like she’d lost a fiver and found a pound (see day 1 trip report), but perhaps jet-lag was kicking in. As a result, there isn’t a terrific amount to say about this day, so I’m going to talk about my views on Disney once I have the nitty-gritty out of the way. This might not be a trip report in the truest sense and I may get another ‘infraction’, but let’s just roll it out.

I think we stirred at 10ish, and decided to breakfast at the Contemporary Café, where we had enjoyed lunch the previous day. The Polynesian is superbly located in this respect, as we could almost roll out of bed, onto the monorail and into the café if we had wanted to, and if Paul had remembered to remove his basque. It’s quite a snotty monorail actually, given it serves the Polynesian, Contemporary and Grand Floridian – full of spoilt little girls with their Bibbity-Bobbity-Boutique outfits on (yes – for the deposit of either a full leg or two arms, your daughter can too have her hair scrapped back for an Essex facelift and get some glitter thrown on her face!) simpering and posturing. But I hate children, so perhaps I’m biased.

Paul and I often get asked whether we’re going to have children, but saying as sending up the chimney is frowned upon, I can’t see any real reason for them. We’re far too selfish anyway – it’s so much easier taking long flights and holidays when you don’t have to wipe bums and keeping answering the same six questions over and over, which is the same reason we don’t take my grandparents.

For breakfast – a bean burrito for me, a platter for Paul. Bean burrito for breakfast? I figured I was already at the pebble-dashing stage of the Florida Belly Syndrome, I might as well go for broke. Perhaps the masses of tour groups in the park had been rubbing off on me, which is yet another reason to worry when a group appears behind us in the queue. The best part of the breakfast had to be a bird crapping on the table, but once I had explained to the waitress that this isn’t going to get her a tip, she went away. Chef Mickey’s is next door for a character breakfast, but I could see from the table that this wasn’t my scene. I can’t be done with meeting characters (remember me breaking the previous cast member?) as I always feel a) scared and b) slightly disappointed that they didn’t cop a feel.

Breakfast done, it was back into the arcade to pour a few dollars to try and win that ‘The Office: Clue’ board game we had spotted the day before. After a fair few games of Deal or No Deal, we hit the jackpot – and once we had amassed the requisite 2000 tickets, it was in our clammy hands.

These arcades where you win tickets reminds me of the first time we were here in Florida and were playing upstairs in the big McDonalds on Sand Lake Road. We won the jackpot on the Wheel of Fortune game, and collected 300 tickets. Paul raced into the prize room to claim something fabulous like a colour TV or some park tickets, only to return with a 4” plastic version of the retarded spokesblob Grimace, who he claimed he had to get as he looked so much like me. I can see his point. Parents – don’t bother letting your kids spend money in the McDonalds arcade, it’s a complete rip-off. Get them learning a cards system, it’ll pay off in the long run.

The cheeky sod. I’m only this shade when I wear that bloody sunscreen!

After we claimed our spoils, back to the Polynesian for some afternoon delight, and a soothing dole whip for afters. Takes the sting away. There’s a running joke between Paul and I that no matter what he orders, I’ll have a piece of it, so even when he orders something rancid like pineapple flavoured ice-cream, I’ll be taking a bit, just to test it. He claims not to mind, but I’ve noticed he’ll buy flavours that even he doesn’t care for just to put me off. It doesn’t work, and don’t worry, this is something I will beat out of him in time.

The rest of the afternoon was spent relaxing by the pool and on the beach. We never did swim in the volcano pool because I was worried all the beautiful people by the pool would laugh at my moobment as I swam and sashayed up the stairs to the slide. However, it looks beautiful.

Oh yes, we also rented the boats again – the fast Sea Raycers – as Paul enjoys it so much. Following his brush with Lake Patrol the day before, he was being ultra-cautious, and I was being careful to keep an eye on him, so much so that I went straight through the ‘No Wake’ zone under the monorail bridge at full pelt. Naturally, Lake Patrol see this, and over they come in their little boats with the siren flashing, and good lord do I get told off. I’m not that sure why, actually, it’s not as if I was going to bring down the monorail bridge with a hearty wave. Anyway, after she had finished waving her finger at me and threatening to take the boat away, and I was finished internally thinking how I could Kirsty MacCall her, she went away, leaving me to take some pictures and also, discover a mysterious hatch just hidden off the shoreline of one of the tiny islands in the middle. Being a Lost fan, this was super-intriguing, but I very much doubt there’s an angry Scottish man down there.

Our evening meal was at Ohanas, as we had luckily booked this well in advance. We were expecting a serve yourself buffet but it’s actually so much better than that. After getting yet another super-gay drink…

Might see if some of the pubs in Newcastle can knock this up for me. Might be leaving out the window, mind…

…we were shown to our seats, sat beside a rather brash New York couple (who actually turned out to be just charning) and given salad (meh) and bread (ooh, despite being coconut and pineapple flavour – all I could think was that coconut and pineapple were two of the flavours you used to get in those ‘Tropical Flavour’ condoms in pub toilet machines) (I swear to God I have seen a curry flavoured condom before, by the way – talk about putting the spice back in your relationship).

I’ve just read that back, and realised that I have totally overused parenthesises in that paragraph. Apologies, it’s one of my writing tics, that and using hyphens instead of commas. I’ll try and lay off them.

So, if you’re wondering, at Ohanas you don’t go and get your food at buffet trays, but rather they bring barbequed meats to the table, sliding them off skewers onto your plate. It is absolutely, utterly delicious. Steak, chicken, pork and shrimp (though both Paul and I left the fish, we’re all about the meat in all ways) to die for. We had the rookie mistake of filling up on bread, of course, so though we managed a few farm animals, we did have to call it quits. But oh no – our waitress wasn’t done with us yet – and she brought out a bread and butter pudding, topped with a jug of syrup. Naturally, as there are people starving in the world, including myself now as I write this, we had to choke it down. Easily the most delicious meal so far on the holiday and one that I can’t recommend enough. If you’re on the Disney Dining Plan, give it a whirl and use up two credits. As our waitress was lovely, and the meal was superb, we left a $100 tip. Spread a little magic, I like to think.

OH! Forgot to mention. I got ‘hit on’, to use the American vernacular, by a waiter. He asked me how the honeymoon was going, to which I replied ‘Brilliant, full of the usual honeymoon pleasures’. He looked me up and down and replied ‘I’m incredibly jealous’. I mean really, how inappropriate. I only meant getting free upgrades and showing off my ring. Clearly, he was all about the latter. Paul gave him some stink-eye and off he went.

And that, my friends, was that. Our last night at the Polynesian finished as you would expect – us groaning, packed full of meat, and gasping down Rennies for all they were worth. We would move to the Wyndham the next morning and I plan to start from there with the trip report, so here’s a few thoughts about the Polynesian.

Is it worth it? Absolutely. It’s one of the most expensive resorts on Disney property but it really shows – it is immaculately kept, exceptionally clean but without the stuffiness of the Grand Floridian. We seemed to get a good deal through Virgin Holidays and it was always our intention to bookend the honeymoon with more salubrious hotels, and this certainly lived up to it. I can see why some people find it too dark, for the decoration is a little muted in places, but when the torches come on at night and you’re lying on the beach watching the fireworks, it is perfect.

Location wise, it really can’t be beaten, only matched. Not once did we struggle to get to a park – either hop on a monorail and change at the Magic Kingdom or get a bus from the TTC, which is right next door. A lovely touch is the resort boat which shuttles between the Grand Floridian and Polynesian from the Magic Kingdom, which made getting back after enduring Wishes a breeze.

In terms of facilities – two pools, one quiet and one for kids, was just the right mix. There is a long beach for relaxing, swinging in the hammock and looking at the volleyball and tennis nets and thinking a bit of exercise wouldn’t harm. There’s an arcade room, an excellent pair of gift and grocery shops, a jogging trail (yeah, didn’t do that either) and the choice to rent boats and bikes for the more adventurous and/or folly, like Paul and I.

Food – well catered for, arf arf. Captain Cooks does excellent counter service fare whilst Ohanas is one of the most popular Disney restaurants on site. There’s also a coffee bar and a sushi eaterie but being unrefined gentlemen, we partook in neither.

Flaws? Very few. Being a ‘top’ resort, it does attract a few snotty people who like to swan around thinking they are ‘It’, and their attitude to cast members shows that. It may come across in these reports that Paul and I are snobby, and to an extent we are, but we’re always polite and friendly with people doing a job. Unless they do it badly, then it’s dirty protest time. Another flaw would be the distance from the lobby to some of the longhouses if you’re put in a ‘branch’ that’s far away, but that can’t really be helped, and I’m sure you could request a room change if it became difficult.

Cast members were always exceptionally friendly and the Mousekeeping service did an excellent job of cleaning the room and sandblasting the toilet every morning, probably oiled along by the tips we left. There were two notable cast members – Bailey and Sarah on reception – who were just fantastic, giving advice and actually spending time to have a good conversation with us. Even the ladies in the gift shop remembered us and made time to have a chat when they saw us dithering amongst the ornaments.

In all? A superb, superb site, and a good chunk of the reason for our newly-discovered love of the Mouse. I want to write more about Disney and plan to use a ‘quiet day’ coming up to ramble on, but for now, this is enough. Coming up: Discovery Cove, NASA, shopping and Jaymes and Paul vs Sweet Tomatoes.

And now…some photos of the Polynesian, and one for all your foot-fetishests out there…

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