So in honor of my friend Mel, who is currently having her vacation in Orlando rained upon by Hurricane Dennis, I would like to spin the following tale.
Hubba-hubba and I visited Disneyworld probably about 8 years ago. It was the first time we had ever been to Florida, and we weren't that impressed. You see, we are both from Southern California, and in our eyes, Disneyworld is just a humid, bloated Disneyland. Not that there aren't fun things to do at Disneyworld, there are. But having visited Disneyland countless times throughout our lives, we are just used to thinking that the original is the best.
On our second-to-last day, we were waiting for one of the shuttles to take us back to our hotel. Neither of us could ever be termed shy people, and we struck up a conversation with another couple also in line. I don't remember where they were from, but they mentioned they were on their honeymoon and asked us if we were also. Alas, our wedding would not be held for another four years or so, and we replied in the negative.
The young woman said that was too bad, because they had just gotten back from dining at Cinderella's Royal Table, which is located inside the actual castle. She gushed about the atmosphere and how you had to have reservations, and so on. Then, she hoisted a bag up and pulled out what looked to be two wine glasses. "And when they find out you are here on your honeymoon, they give you these for free," she trilled. They had faux-twisty stems, twining roses, and "Cinderella's Royal Table" emblazoned on them.
Hubba-hubba and I looked at the glasses, then looked at each other. We knew exactly what we were going to do. The new bride looked at us suspiciously, Hubba-hubba now claims, but I didn't see it.
The next morning, we scarfed down our breakfast and hit the complimentary resort house phones. We were informed that Cinderella's Royal Table was completely booked, and sorry, no tables were available. Perhaps we could try back later. We must have tried for almost two hours to get a table, and I even have a picture of Hubba-hubba standing with a receiver to each ear, on hold to get though to the restaurant.
Finally, we were granted entrance to the feast, and we ate the gloriously overpriced entrees available at that particular establishment. Our waiter asked us if we were going to have dessert. Thinking that this was probably our last chance to mention it before the bill arrived, I said, "Oh yes, we would love to order dessert to celebrate our honeymoon." The waiter looked at me. The waiter looked at my finger, which did have a ring on it. But it was an emerald ring that looked nothing like an engagement ring or a wedding band. Then he surreptitiously glanced at Hubba-hubba's bare hand. I smiled sweetly at him, never batting an eyelash. "OK," he said slowly, "I'll go ahead and get that for you."
A while later he came back with our dessert. He also had a box in his hand. He proffered it to us with great reluctance. "It is the honor of Cinderella's table to present you with a gift celebrating your honeymoon." I could tell that it pained him to give us the box. "Oh, really?" I replied. "Oh, we had no idea," said Hubba-hubba, "how nice!" and we thanked him for the gift so graciously presented.
Those two fake crystal glasses sit proudly in my china cabinet, right along with my Lenox, Swarovski, Waterford and Royal Doulton. I smile every time I look at them.