Bucko's World

Entry Date: Saturday 8th August 2009

It would be fair to say that our flight across the pond, as our American friends like to call it, was uneventful. And let’s be honest here, that really is the most you want from trip in a three hundred ton aluminium tube full of half cut, sweaty people off on their holidays. There was no CAT, there were no fights, and there was no sudden loss of cabin pressure, the plane plunging out of control as people start tearing at their eyes and screaming “WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE……..!!!!” None of that.

In fact due to something to do with wind and physics, we actually landed 50 minutes ahead of schedule which, whilst being pretty good from the point of view that you can get off the plane that bit earlier, is more than balanced out by the fact that the American Security Agency Inc. can now quite reasonably delay you even longer than normal. It just take an age to get through security – passport checked, photo taken, thumbprints, fingerprints, retinal scan, DNA check, rubber gloves and light on the lubricant – it just a soul destroyingly long time bearing in mind not only how long you’ve taken to get there, but you still have that most fabulous of all experiences ahead of you, waiting for your luggage. But here we get one over on the Man, coz they’ve delayed us so long the only bags waiting to be collected are ours. UP YOURS!

Of course, we still have to get our hire car, which is the automotive equivalent of pulling teeth. A man smiles broadly at you and assures you everything is going to be alright, and then makes you scream in agony. We think we’re ahead of the game on this one having booked the “Ultra Mega Complete Dollar Car Hire Package©” which includes absolutely everything and are therefore rather pleased with ourselves until the smiling man gets involved. Then we find out that breakdown cover, additional drivers, tolls, seats, water and air in the tyres are all “additional items” we need to pay for before he’ll give us the keys. We weep as we hand over several hundred dollars we weren’t expecting to and we haven’t even left the airport yet.

At least when the car turns up it is suitably impressive. The size of an Abramovich Yacht and bearing the legend Dodge Grand Caravan, it’s the sort of vehicle that would have the denizens of Essex queuing round the block to buy. It easily swallows all our luggage and six persons and still has enough grunt to move itself out of the airport (with one of us assisting behind the wheel, natch) although it’s accompanied by the most peculiar sucking sound. We soon discover this is linked to both the accelerator pedal and fuel gauge and is the petrol disappearing at a tear inducing rate as the 3.3 litre V6 drags us along. Fortunately, once shorn of the luggage and with gas only $2.50 a U.S. sized gallon (the only thing smaller there than here) it’s not as bad as it at first looked.

As we set off for our Florida Home, down the wide, straight, speed camera free roads - roads built for cars, and still intended for their original use, so no speed bumps, traffic calming or any of that bollocks – the sense of excitement grows. We pass signs for Universal Studios, Disney Magic Kingdom, Seaworld - and a rather bizarre advert for something called “Tower of Terror” which shows screaming people plunging to almost certain death in an out of control lift – and all the aggro at the airport is forgotten. The sun is shining, it fucking hot and the most fun you can have with you clothes on is scattered in the theme parks all around us, just waiting for us to come and play. We can’t wait………………..