Well, here we are. The final curtain has been drawn on our Floridian escapade and, as I sit at Gate 96 in Terminal A of Orlando International Airport, watching holidaymakers shuffle past with mouse ears, neck pillows and bags bursting at the seams, I find myself in that strange limbo between holiday bliss and the grim return to normality. The sun may still be shining outside, but emotionally it’s a bit overcast.
Let’s rewind, shall we? Today was our last full day in the land of palm trees, oversized meals, and enough retail therapy to cause a minor credit card meltdown. Strap in for one final cheeky chapter in our Orlando adventure – it’s been emotional.
Packing Pandemonium and The 10:00 Showdown
The Check-Out Countdown
Orlando may be all about magic and wonder, but our day began with a stark reminder of reality – a hotel check-out time of 10:00 sharp. Not 10:01. Not “just popping back in to use the loo”. No, a firm ‘pack your bags and go’ situation. We were surprisingly efficient, if I do say so myself, getting everything stowed and zipped with military precision. Maybe it’s because we were seasoned by now – after sixteen days of hotel hopping and bag juggling, we’d become semi-pro packers.
As we hauled our cases out into the corridor, fate (and hotel floor plans) delivered a delightful surprise. Who did we bump into on the landing just off floor six? None other than Helen and Brian, our trusty travel companions, standing there like the final boss of a video game – two doors down.
GMC Denali to the Rescue
Once the hugs and laughs had subsided, we got down to the serious business of vehicle Tetris. The 7-seater GMC Denali – our faithful chariot – was called into full action. Luggage seemed to multiply overnight. I swear my suitcase grew two inches from the amount of theme park tat I’ve acquired.
Luckily, we’d had the foresight (read: a moment of ‘go big or go home’ bravado at the rental desk) to opt for the Denali. We dropped the third row of seats and piled the cases in with all the grace of a supermarket sweep. It was a tight fit, but we managed it. I briefly considered using bungee cords, but thought that might send the wrong message at the airport.
The Final American Feast
Denny’s Brunch: One Last Hurrah
Michele and I had already had a light breakfast on the balcony – granola and yoghurt, very virtuous – but Helen and Brian were still running on empty. It was nearly 10:30 by the time we made our way to the nearest Denny’s. At that hour, I’m not sure whether we were having breakfast, brunch or the kind of meal that people who’ve lost all sense of time eat at airports. Let’s just call it “blunch” and be done with it.
Helen and Brian went full throttle – large, unapologetically American breakfasts that would make a cardiologist weep. Michele, ever the lover of the sweeter things in life, enjoyed her last plate of fluffy, syrup-drenched US pancakes, a farewell tribute to the carb-laden mornings we’ve enjoyed. As for me? Toast. Just toast. I’d love to say it was a conscious health decision, but in truth, I simply couldn’t face another lumberjack portion.
The Florida Mall Finale
Just One More Shop… Honest!
You’d think, after sixteen days of spending, shopping, and enough browsing to qualify as cardio, we’d be all tapped out. But no – not when Helen and Michele are involved. Apparently, there’s always room for one last shop. So off we went to The Florida Mall, our wallets gently weeping.
I had no intention of buying anything. Famous last words, right? The Florida Mall, like so many American retail temples, has a way of seducing even the most resistant of shoppers. There’s just something about how everything is shinier, bigger, and often half the price of what we pay in the UK.
Helen could probably open her own boutique by now. It was part shopping, part farewell tour. Like when a rock star plays their final gig, but instead of guitar solos, it’s Sephora samples.
Goodbye, Helen and Brian
A Quick Drop and a Slow Realisation
After the Florida Mall detour, it was time to bid farewell to Helen and Brian. Their flight to Heathrow was at 16:20, so we did the dutiful thing and dropped them at the airport. No dramas, no last-minute panics – just a quick, smooth goodbye in true British fashion. Polite hugs, promises to catch up, and the classic “Text us when you land.”
Sixteen days we’d spent together – navigating queues, restaurant menus, and countless GPS recalculations. Saying goodbye was oddly emotional, even if it was masked by the usual Brit-on-tour stoicism. Just like that, it was down to Michele and me. Well, us and the Denali.
Costco and the Great Time-Killing Operation
The Time Gap Conundrum
Here’s the thing – our flight wasn’t until 21:20. That left us with a juicy five-hour window of nothingness. So what do you do when you’re in Orlando with time to kill and no hotel room to return to?
You go to Costco, of course.
American Costco stores are like their British counterparts on steroids. Everything is supersized. The trolleys, the portions, the packaging – it’s all dialled up to eleven. Michele wandered off to marvel at 3kg jars of peanut butter while I tried to wrap my head around the sheer size of the TVs on offer. Seriously, one of them could double as a drive-in cinema screen.
We grabbed a slice of pizza each – because how can you not? – and wandered the aisles aimlessly, half-heartedly pretending to consider bulk-buying cat food for our furry friends at home. And just to make ourselves useful, we topped up the Denali with another $5 of gas (sorry – petrol) to ensure it would coast back to the airport one final time without drama.
Return to Orlando International – Take Two
The End is Nigh
Second time lucky, we returned to Orlando International Airport, this time to drop off the Denali and check ourselves in. It was bittersweet handing back the keys – that car had been our trusty steed through all manner of misadventures. I half expected a sad little beep from the horn as we walked away.
We found the Virgin check-in desk and dropped off our bags, which – to no one’s surprise – were each pushing the upper weight limit. I’m convinced Orlando has some sort of gravitational anomaly that makes your luggage heavier by the day. Michele insists it’s the shopping. I maintain it’s science.
TSA Triumphs
Now, anyone who’s flown from a US airport knows the unspoken fear: the TSA security experience. Shoes off, belts removed, laptops out, water bottles shamefully discarded. But today – miraculously – it was painless. Ten minutes. No pat-downs (except for Michele), no probing questions, no misplaced toiletries. It was… smooth. Almost suspiciously so.
And now, here we are. Gate 96. Terminal A. Michele’s scrolling through photos, no doubt planning the next scrapbook page. I’m sipping a lukewarm coffee and watching people have emotional reunions and equally emotional goodbyes. Our flight boards in just over two hours, and I’m somewhere between smug satisfaction and melancholy reflection.
One Last Look Back
Sixteen days. Countless memories. Some questionable tan lines. If you’d told me two weeks ago I’d be waxing lyrical about Costco pizza and getting sentimental over a hire car, I’d have laughed in your face. But here we are.
It’s been a trip filled with magic (thanks, Disney), madness (thanks, traffic), and moments of pure joy (thanks, pancakes). From John F Kennedy space centre to retail overload, we’ve done it all – and then some.
Now it’s time to head home, to unpack our bags, dodge the scales, and start planning the next trip. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: adventures might end, but the stories live on.
