Come on America, Is This the Best You Can Do?

Chilling with Merida at Disney

What is it about vacation that makes Americans so crazy?

I spent last week with my family at the happiest place on earth — Disney World. There were certainly happy moments. My daughter delighted in Tinkerbell’s embrace, and she hooted and hollered with the best of them at the Main Street Electrical Parade.

But as the days went by, our patience grew thin.

True, the lack of sleep didn’t help. Nor did the subsistence on that food group known as “vacation food” aka grease, cheese, and cardboard (usually masquerading as pizza dough or sandwich bread).

Neither, however, can be blamed for the inability to swallow the frustrations with some of the antics we observed. 
Take, for instance, the folks standing in the center of a sidewalk, cameras aloft, taking photos of a rat. And by rat, I do not mean the well-loved cartoon character with which Disney is synonymous.
I mean the infectious disease carrier rodent from which normal people run (often accompanied by loud yelps).
Still, I’d much preferred these slightly perturbed folks to the ones who’d forgotten to pack their manners for the trip. The folks who couldn’t be bothered to throw their litter in the (many, many, MANY) receptacles scattered throughout the theme parks. The ones who allowed the door to slam at their backs without so much as a “may I hold it for you ma’am?”
It’s not just a Disney thing. Anyone who has rounded a blind corner on a Sullivan County road to find an out-of-county car parked (PARKED) in the center, the occupants standing outside, a small point-and-shoot camera aimed at a cow, knows that.
It’s a vacation thing.
Vacation brings out the crazy in people. It brings out the rude in people.

Maybe it’s the food. The lack of sleep. The feeling of being a fish out of water.

Whatever it is; I’m just glad to be home.

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