Our destination? Nickelodeon Hotel in Orlando. Nope, not Disney, Sea World nor Universal Studios. No, my little girl’s dream was simply to get slimed at The Nickelodeon Hotel. The Nick Hotel gleamed in her mind as worthy as any of the theme parks and well, it’s all the same to me.
We leave in the “middle of the night,” as Gracie would say. In adult time, that’s really five in the morning. We head southward, enjoying the dark quiet time while it lasts. We know that all too soon “are we there yet?” and “how much longer?” will interrupt the soothing melodies of “Winnie the Pooh, Winnie the Pooh…Willy nilly silly old bear.” Makes me wonder why anybody thought DVDs in the car were a good idea.
I figured when we crossed the Florida line, we’d enter the Nickelodeon Hotel into the GPS app on the iPhone, zero in on our final destination and arrive in plenty of time for the 5:45 p.m. slimefest at the main pool. Didn’t want to miss that.
We end up on the Florida Turnpike and I enlist the help of my bride and co-pilot to do the search on the GPS to locate the address. You can’t text and drive, so you sure don’t want to be trying to read some little map on a cell phone while driving either.
The address pops up instantly and links to a map leading us to the Sponge Bob capital of the world. Technology is amazing! Quickly though, we come to a fork in the road. We didn’t happen upon the fork in a meandering fashion, rather at seventy miles per hour. I quickly asked the chief navigator…which way?! Which way?! But alas, the iPhone was in use by my daughter at that very moment. In spite of saying, “Hurry, hurry we need the phone,” she, like all good Southern women, can’t say goodbye very quickly. It takes a while.