Hello again! Thank you so much for the response! The reviews are greatly appreciated, believe me. On to chapter three! I don't own anything, obviously, and please feel free to correct me if I got something wrong with the car info. I did research this time, but I'm only basing it off of what I found on the internet. I'm no auto-mechanic. ;)
Early Modern Fantasy
Chapter Three: The Happiest Place on Earth
Rain is dribbling quietly on the rooftop and windowpanes of the Atlanta, Georgia Springhill Suites and the hotel room, Jeff notes when he opens his eyes, is just as dark now as it was when he went to sleep hours ago. The glowing crimson digital clock beside his bedside informs him that it's quarter to eight and when he takes in his surroundings- dark hotel room, pounding headache- he wonders if he's regressed to his past self, bedding a random stranger in a town no one cares to remember. But then he remembers the previous two days and the awful night and sighs heavily. Letting a yawn escape his lips, Jeff rolls over to meet the cooler side of the pillow and instead meets a welcoming grin from Britta, who's already showered and fully dressed, sipping coffee from the other full bed inside their shared room.
"Morning," She says cheerfully, very un-Britta-like, and motions towards the bedside table on her side. "I got you some coffee. Feel any better today?"
"Yeah, just fantastic," He answers, sitting up and reaching gratefully for the coffee. "And you're obviously feeling like everything's sunshine and rainbows."
"Well I woke up a little after six and I couldn't fall back asleep," Britta shrugs, folding her legs beneath her Indian-style. "So I got dressed, went for a little walk around the hotel, and then I met up with Troy and Abed for breakfast. Good news: Troy said he dropped the van off at a mechanic down the road and that it'll be ready in a few hours. It'll be good to have air conditioning again, considering I just checked the forecast for Orlando and it's supposed to be ninety-seven degrees today."
"Good. Did you tell him to fix the radio too?" Jeff asks hopefully, downing the coffee and getting out of bed to find his suitcase of clothing.
"No, but I'm sure Troy remembered," Britta says. "Anyway, Abed's driving this morning and says we all have to meet him in the lobby by nine. But seriously, you feel okay and everything? Because you're going to be trapped in a car all day and I don't want you to feel sick."
"Yes, I'm fine Britta, thank you," He rolls his eyes, choosing an outfit for the day and heading towards the bathroom. "The only thing I'm feeling is the strong urge to stay away from Mexican food for a while."
Britta chuckles. "That's wise."
Once they're both together and packed, Jeff and Britta clear their belongings from the room and head to the lobby to checkout, where they meet up with Abed, Annie, and Shirley, the latter two looking just as turned off by the prospect of Mexican food as Jeff had. Exactly at nine o'clock, Pierce comes strolling into the lobby looking completely disheveled and knocking over suitcases when he bumps into furniture. His excuse is that he's still not feeling up to par and the rest of the study group shares a wary glance before telling him he can sit in the backseat today. Troy returns to the parking lot with the car a few minutes later and, with Abed behind the wheel and Britta as his copilot, they're off towards Disney World.
The moment they're on the road again, comfortably with air conditioning this time, they realize the mechanic may have fixed their coolant system but he did nothing to attempt to fix the radio, which is still droning out that Old Italian opera, much to everyone's chagrin. Pierce complains that the falsetto is making him nauseous and Jeff and Shirley, who are seated on either side of him, both lean instinctively towards their windows. To cover up Pierce's carsickness, or really whatever was left from his food poisoning, Abed and Troy launch into more of their game of "let's pretend we know what the opera singers are saying" and continue to create absurd storylines with outlandish characters.
Three hours later, around noon, they reach Albany, Georgia and decide to stop for lunch. When Abed asks where, Jeff, Annie, Shirley, and Pierce, in unison, shout, "Not Mexican!" Instead, they stop at a gas station to fill up the tank and stock up on snacks for later and then drive a few more feet down the highway to find a burger joint that advertised "the best burgers in town." They're decent enough, but they don't spend enough time in Albany to find out if they're necessarily the best. Since Abed had driven half of their journey already, he switches spots with Britta, who takes the wheel, and off they go once more.
Pierce falls asleep somewhere between driving through peach orchards and hitting the thruway once more, so the group is rewarded with silence in the backseat. Troy and Abed have long since grown tired of their opera game and have instead resorted to playing the one-word story game. Their story about a mutant frog-chicken hybrid is driving the rest of the group absolutely insane; Jeff and Shirley share one of their "I would love to kill one of them, wouldn't you?" looks, Annie is slowly rocking back and forth in her seat, this close to losing it, and Britta is gripping the steering wheel so tightly, her knuckles are turning white.
Finally, they pass the "Welcome to Florida!" state sign and Britta busies them all by distracting them by it. "Hey look! We've finally made it! Only three hours to Orlando… Or something like that."
But this doesn't make anyone feel any better; after three days of being confined in these close quarters, everyone's really starting to hit the wall. They're done with the whole car thing. The cutesy group road trip had been a great idea, in theory. But now that they've experienced it and the certain misfortunes that came along with it, they're hoping that the Disney World portion of the vacation is better, because this really isn't that much fun. Britta turns onto the Florida turnpike and glances at her friends in the rearview mirror; Annie gives her a small but weary smile, Shirley a small shake of the head, Troy a goofy grin, and Jeff his signature irritated look. Abed pats her arm which gives her the confidence to continue on, as if she had a choice.
However, they've barely been on the turnpike for twenty minutes before the van gives a shocking jolt and then it feels as though they're bumping down the road in the Flintstones car. There's an awful smell, like that of burning rubber, and Britta slows down and pulls over to the shoulder of the road, concerned that there is something seriously wrong with the car. Turning off the vehicle, everyone but Pierce hurries out of the van (if the van is on fire or in danger of exploding or something they'll go back for him) and crowds around the hood, which Jeff unlatches and when he does, is bathed in a thick cloud of white smoke.
"Oh great," Jeff coughs, sputtering and waving his arms in front of his face. "Well that's never good."
"No one can blame this on me," Britta warns but everyone's attention is still on the smoking engine.
"We're in the middle of a massive highway," Shirley says reproachfully. "We aren't anywhere near a mechanic!"
"This is how episodes of I'm Alive always start," Abed frowns. "I'm watching."
"We can't even call for help!" Annie panics. "Everyone we know lives in Colorado!"
"Alright, alright," Troy starts, pushing back his sleeves. "Let me see it. It might not be an air conditioning vent, but I might be able to figure it out."
When most of the smoke finally clears, Jeff inspects the engine and says, "Looks like the HT leads deteriorated. It's right next to the AC system. The mechanic may have fixed the air conditioning last night, but he screwed up the high tension extensions."
But Troy gives the engine a once-over and shakes his head, disagreeing. "No, I'm pretty sure it's the spark plug. Why else would the engine be smoking like that?"
"Maybe because the deteriorated HT leads are rubbing together and causing friction?" Jeff says challengingly and Troy frowns.
"Or maybe it's because the spark plug misfired," Troy states adamantly, not backing down. "If we let the damage go, it could damage the catalytic converter. It only costs around ten bucks to fix, but a home remedy will have to work for now."
"Unless that's not the problem at all," Jeff argues. "Where did you get your auto mechanic degree, Troy?"
"The same place you didn't get yours, Jeff," Troy shouts. "Now back up and let me fix the car!"
"You don't even know what the problem is!"
"Oh, and you do?"
"I have a bit more experience working with cars than you do, Troy."
"Yeah but believe me, air conditioning units and car engines are similar. Besides, the engine's smoking, so I know it's the spark plug!"
"Wow, should I get a ruler?" Britta deadpans.
"Britta, ew!" Annie shrieks and colors slightly. "Guys, why are we even fighting about this? Let's just try and fix it. Jeff, do you know how to fix an HT… whatever?"
"Not without a proper tool kit," He shakes his head. "Some WD-40 would be a temporary solution, but I doubt anyone packed any of that."
"Okay," Annie nods, problem-solving. "Troy, do you know how to fix the spark plug?"
"You can't really fix it; you have to replace it," Troy informs them. "But I'll do what I can to make a temporary fix."
"Great," Annie grins. "Just something that'll get us to Orlando and then we can ditch this car for a new one for the ride home."
Troy nods, all business-like, and kneels before the car. "I'll see what I can do."
He finds some duct tape in the glove compartment and, after he's waited a moment for the engine to cool down, sticks his entire arm into the engine towards the spark plug. The first thing he feels is the warm, oily black grease coating his hand, running slick down his arm, and weaving itself between his fingers. It's disgusting and there isn't a proper way for him to wash this off, he realizes, afterwards. But then he feels the loose, unhinged spark plug and smiles satisfactorily. He had been right, so take that Jeff. He manages to screw it back into place and then wraps some grease-slick duct tape around it, twice and then three times, to secure it into place. It definitely isn't the way to fix a spark plug, but they've got no other option on the middle of the turnpike.
Troy turns around to face his friends, who are crowded around him in the beating sunlight and scorching heat, and grins to signify that he's got it. They all thank and congratulate him for recognizing the problem and supplying the quick fix, but Jeff is still brooding. "Just because you're right doesn't mean I'm wrong. We should still check the HT leads."
"Even if that is the problem, we can't fix that with duct tape," Troy shakes his head. "That will definitely catch fire."
"Fine," Jeff gives in, heading back inside the car. "So glad you're here to fix our every breakdown."
"He's just throwing a tantrum," Britta waves it off, handing Troy her water bottle. "Thanks for fixing the car. You did a great job."
"Thanks," He grins back at her and takes a sip of the water before dumping the rest on his greasy arm.
They're back on the turnpike a little after two p.m. and the moment Britta turns on the engine, it runs as smoothly as a dream. They would be much more careful this time in choosing a mechanic, once they got to Orlando; the last had been paid way too much and though he managed to fix their coolant system, he also managed to dislodge the spark plug and cause the car to break down. But the rest of their journey is smooth sailing; they're driving down the turnpike, passing by lakes and orange groves, and truly taking in everything that is the wonderful state of Florida.
Before they know it, Britta turns onto the ramp for Orlando and the vivid green road sign tells them that Walt Disney World is only twenty-eight miles away. Mickey ears are on nearly everything and soon, all of the signs are in purple and yellow instead of green and white. It's almost five thirty when they finally reach Lake Buena Vista Drive, and Annie, all childlike, squeals excitedly when they drive past Downtown Disney, the strip of nightclubs, restaurants, and shops for everyone's desire. A few more miles and then Britta pulls into the resort that would be their home for the next several days- Disney's Old Key West Resort.
The enchanting resort lives up to its name by incorporating all of the charming tranquility that is the Florida Keys. All of the buildings are covered in cool pastel blues, corals, and greens, with lattice-like white accents upon the Victorian architecture. The resort reminds the group almost of being in a storybook, with all the suites being covered in ornate gingerbread-type accents and lavish porches with wicker furniture. Sandwiched comfortably between glittering waterways that reflect the setting evening sun and swaying palm trees on lush green land, the Old Key West Resort is, in a word, paradise.
"Wow," Jeff admires as they all exit the vehicle to stretch their legs and take in their temporary home. "We're definitely not slumming it, are we?"
"This is absolutely beautiful!" Shirley exclaims joyfully. "It's completely perfect."
"It should be," Pierce, grumpy from being awakened abruptly from his nap, grumbles. "For the hefty price we're paying for it."
"Yeah, but you get what you pay for," Britta states in shock. "This place is nicer than my apartment!"
"Greendale is nicer than your apartment," Jeff shoots back and Britta glares at him.
"Let's go check in!" Annie suggests as they open the back of the van to take out their luggage. "If it's this nice on the outside, imagine what it looks like inside!"
"Annie, how much did you pack?" Troy complains, yanking out at least three suitcases of the same pink polka dot pattern. "And is one of these suitcases the one with the rest of our shirts? Because if you forgot them, so help me God, Annie-"
"Relax," She rolls her eyes, pointing towards the middle-sized one. "They're in there. And you won't make fun of me when I'm the only one prepared with water, sunscreen, and bug spray tomorrow."
They all chuckle, gather their own luggage, and travel up the sandy sidewalk towards the main lobby. The white French doors give way to the hardwood-floored, cream-colored lobby that's covered, wall to floor, in windows. There's modest lighting, oriental rugs, and cozy-looking green couches, all surrounding expensive-looking coffee and end tables. There are various plants stationed around the room and fancy, ornate grandfather clocks in a few different corners. The study group approaches the cherry oak check in counter and comes face to face with an overly cheerful redhead.
"Good evening and welcome to Disney's Old Key West Resort!" She greets them. "Are you checking in as a group?"
"No, individually," Annie answers and she must look as exhausted as she sounds, because this redhead chuckles at her expression.
"Long day of hitting the parks, huh?" She asks and it's Annie's turn to laugh.
"No, we haven't even gone to the parks yet," Annie tells her. "We drove here from Colorado."
Abed nods for confirmation. "We just spent the last three days in the car."
"Are you serious?" The redhead asks, dropping her saccharine Disney voice and when the group nods, asks, "Are you crazy?"
They're wondering the same thing, but they check into their rooms anyway. This time, everyone gets their own room, because after three days of being stuck together in the car and a week ahead of spending twenty-four hours a day together, they need the solace and comfort of their own rooms to bring themselves back to sanity. Once everyone's been checked into their rooms, they head up to see what they're lodgings will be like and absolutely expecting the best, after seeing both the exterior and the lobby of the resort.
And, once again, they're hardly let down.
The room themes are coral, pink with seashells and blue-green with the sea water that Florida is famous for. Beds comfy and couches cozy, each room has a flat-screen television, a breakfast nook, and a full walk in closet. The bathrooms are almost the same size as the bedroom, with a Jacuzzi tub, full shower, and porcelain toilet adjacent to the fountain sink. After a solid fifteen minutes of marveling and a little unpacking, the group meets one last time for the evening for dinner in the cozy restaurant in the resort.
They're so hungry no one talks until they've finished their meals. Then Annie says, "So we should probably make preliminary plans for tomorrow."
"Ugh Annie," Troy shakes his head. "We're on vacation. Don't use words like 'preliminary'."
"Yeah, plus I don't like planning," Britta agrees. "Let's just go with the flow. We bought a seven-day park-hopper pass. We can do whatever we want whenever we want."
"Thanks for explaining that concept," Jeff smirks. "But Britta's uncharacteristically right. We should just figure out what we want to do in the moment."
"Well can I at least get an idea of what you guys want to do tomorrow?" Annie asks and they all groan. "I'm sorry! I don't improvise anything! I plan ahead and prepare because that's what gets the job done."
"But Annie, you're on vacation," Shirley shakes her head. "There's no 'job'. But I guess, if it makes you feel better, I would prefer not to do a water park tomorrow. I just don't want to start off with that."
"I was going to say we should start with a water park," Pierce counteracts. "After three days in the car it'll be nice to just sit by the pool."
"I think tomorrow morning we should check and see which park has the extra magic hours," Abed proposes. "And then we should go to that one."
"And this is why we don't plan ahead," Jeff says to Britta, who nods her agreement. "I'm going to take a walk. Want to join me?"
"Gladly," She responds and the two slip away from the table, completely unnoticed by the still-arguing study group.
The sky is a thrilling purple, now, and is slowly descending into a solid black as the dazzling stars continue to make themselves known all over the horizon. Their path is sand swept and smells of the ocean, even though they're far from it, lit by tiki torches and glittering but flickering lights. Jeff and Britta are silent for most of the walk, taking in the fireflies and careening crickets as well as the brilliant night air as they amble down the beaten path. They reach a small bridge that leads to the other side of the resort and runs over the trickling water below them. Jeff pauses on the bridge, so Britta does too, and heaves a long sigh.
"I don't know if I'm going to be able to take a whole week of this study group," Jeff confesses and Britta honestly isn't shocked. "Sometimes we're just too many strong personalities in one room."
"Yeah, I can understand that," Britta nods, leaning against the bridge and gazing out over the moonlit water. "But I think it'll be fun and… I think it'll be good for us."
"Really? My therapist told me I'm not 'emotionally ready' for group situations," Jeff shrugs. "She says I need 'me-time.' I don't know. She kind of sucks."
"Jeff, you do not need any alone time, especially now," Britta disagrees. "When you're left alone, that's when you self-doubt and self-deprecate the most. And since you already have enough issues in those departments, I highly doubt you need any more."
"Thank you for that vote of confidence," He states and at her alarmed look, adds, "I'm joking. I guess you're right, which means there must be something wrong with this situation."
Britta nudges his arm, smiling as she moves out of the way for an older couple to pass with their young grandkids. "Shut up."
Before Jeff can respond, the older woman turns back to say, "You two make such a lovely couple!"
Jeff and Britta stumble and stammer over their words trying to get denials out fast enough. "Oh God, us? No, no, no, we're not, no way. We're not a couple, believe me. We tried the whole-ha ha! Yeah, no. Definitely not. Uh uh. Not going to happen. Nope!"
"Oh," The woman winks at them. "I understand. I'm hip to the times!"
"Grandma," The oldest child, a teenage boy, groans. "You're so embarrassing!"
As the family continues on their way, Jeff and Britta share a look and begin their walk back to their rooms. Jeff says, "Oh God. That was embarrassing."
"I know," Britta agrees. "Can you imagine? Us as a couple?"
"No," Jeff laughs. "Holding doors for each other and going out to dinner and holding hands?"
Britta chuckles. "And kissing in the moonlight and taking romantic strolls and being all cutesy?"
"Ugh, don't make me sick," Jeff says, rolling his eyes. "I mean who would ever want that?"
"Psh, not me," Britta states adamantly. "And anyway, we're at the happiest place on Earth with five of our best friends. We don't need to romantically entangle to be happy."
"No we do not," Jeff agrees, but then says, "Although we did have some pretty good times last year, you've got to admit."
"Yeah," Britta chuckles, glancing down. "Yeah, we did."
There's a moment of silence before they realize they've come to the hotel lobby once more. They enter the building, ride the elevator and then part ways. Jeff calls after her, "See you tomorrow, bright and early. I wonder if the group ever picked a park…"
"I guess we'll find out, won't we?" Britta implores. "Goodnight."
He smiles back. "Goodnight."
They'd finally made it to Florida, to Disney World, to the happiest place on Earth. They're both in new and exciting places in their own lives. So... Why do old tensions seem to be resurfacing?