Disney World | 2009
Bradley's POV
With the "official" part of the trip over, the family set off to Disneyland, and Uncle Greg tagged along with us. The moment we walked through the gates and Main Street U.S.A. came into view, Erin was super excited, practically vibrating with joy.
"The castle!" she shrieked, pointing toward the iconic structure at the end of the street. "She made a beeline for Fantasyland, and for the next several hours, we lived in her world."
Her first stop was a boutique where, after much deliberation, she emerged dressed up as a princess, a shimmering gown of blue and silver replacing her regular clothes. She looked at us, her expression dead serious. "A princess needs her royal knight."
Her eyes scanned our group, passed over me, and landed with unshakable certainty on the most gullible and influenced face in our posse. "Uncle Greg," she declared. "You will be my knight."
Uncle Greg, who was in the middle of studying the park map, looked up, completely baffled. "Your... knight, Erin?"
"Yes," she said, nodding gravely. "But you can't be a proper knight until you have your royal war paint on. It's the law." She held up a small compact of glittery eyeshadow she had just acquired.
"Maggie...?" Uncle Greg pleaded, looking to my mom for rescue.
Mom was hiding a smile behind her hand. "She's right, Greg. It's the law of the Magic Kingdom. You can't argue with that."
"Orders are orders, Colonel," my dad added, a wide grin on his face. "Bug don't hold back okay you need your knight to be…shining" Dad said his smile turning almost devilish.
"Mark, Maggie, mini me!" Uncle Greg pleading all of us one by one but no one listened as Mom and Dad whistled their way out of the room leaving him alone with Erin.
"See you at the parades Bug. And Greg do take care of her" Dad said as we exited the door.
"Traitors! The lot of you" Uncle Greg whispered under his breath.
And so, I witnessed the single most surreal moment of the entire trip. I watched my nine-year-old sister very seriously apply a thick streak of glittery purple eyeshadow on the cheek of my dad's second-in-command. Uncle Greg just knelt there, his eyes closed, looking utterly defeated but also strangely content. I had seen this man coordinate security details for three-star generals. I had never seen him look so thoroughly outmaneuvered. I then excused myself to go look for Dad. He was at the entrance of the Princess store talking with Mom.
While Erin held court with Cinderella, her loyal "royal knight" Uncle Greg standing guard, Dad and I had a different mission. Mom had peeled off to go shopping, leaving the two of us with a park map and a shared goal: find the fastest thing in the park and ride it.
We started with Space Mountain. The plunge into the pitch-black darkness, the G-forces pulling at my face, the surprise drops and sharp turns through a field of stars—it was pure, exhilarating chaos. Our laughter echoed in the dark tunnels, a rare sound of shared, uninhibited joy between us.
As we stumbled out into the bright sunlight, blinking, Dad grinned at me. "Still in one piece, son?"
"Barely," I grinned back. "I think my stomach is still back in sector four. What's next?"
He pointed with his chin toward the iconic, snow-capped peak of the Matterhorn. "Think you can handle a run-in with the Abominable Snowman?"
"Only if you can keep up, old man," I shot back.
The Matterhorn was a different kind of thrill—rickety and loud, the bobsled rattling down the track with a bone-jarring intensity. We roared with laughter as the snowman lunged at us from the shadows. As we got off, my adrenaline was pumping. I looked across the park and saw the massive, looping tracks of the biggest rollercoaster on the horizon.
"Okay," I said, pointing. "That one. The big one."
Dad followed my gaze, and for the first time that day, I saw him hesitate. He looked at the coaster's massive, terrifying drop, then back at me, a wry, tired smile on his face. He finally shook his head, a gesture of graceful surrender.
"Alright, flyboy. You win," he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "My flight ceiling is a little lower than it used to be. I'm heading for a churro and some solid ground. You go on ahead."
"You sure?" I asked, a little surprised.
"Positive," he said with a laugh. "Go have fun. That's an order. I'll be near that churro stand by the ride you join back when you're done okay?"
"Sure thing," I replied to my dad, walking towards the line for the massive rollercoaster. Having VIP passes thanks to Mom certainly made it easier to take the rides, and I bypassed the long, snaking queue of people. I tried to ignore the annoyed looks I got from the others.
While waiting for the next car, I checked my phone for battery and found a few texts from Alex.
Lexi (11:15):How's it going out there?
Lexi (14:38):Brad you won't believe what is happening here. Nana came to visit to apologize to Gloria.
Lexi (15:20):Uncle Mitchell and Cam came along, and Haley brought Dylan too. Mom was not happy about that. We are all waiting for Grandpa and Gloria.
I felt a surge of concern for her, dropped into the middle of that social minefield. Oh, she thrived in it but even for her too much conflict in the family can be disheartening.
Bradley (16:10):Oh, Damn are you okay? More importantly, how's your mom doing? I can imagine the chaos about to ensue. You take care of yourself.
Bradley (16:11):We are having quite a lot of fun here. Erin went into the Princess parlor and even dragged in Uncle Greg to be her knight. He looks hilarious in makeup. Dad and I went on a few rides. I'm just about to head onto the rollercoaster.
With that, I closed and pocketed my phone just as the safety gates hissed open. I boarded the rollercoaster, pulling the heavy harness down until it clicked securely over my shoulders.
The car lurched forward, beginning the slow, clanking climb up the first massive hill. The world shrank below us, the cheerful crowds and colorful buildings of the park becoming a miniature map. Then, for a moment at the very peak, there was a weightless, perfect silence.
And then, the drop.
It was a pure, stomach-lurching plunge into a screaming vortex of wind and speed. The G-forces pressed me back into my seat as we shot through a series of corkscrewing loops and zero-g rolls. My own yell was torn from my lungs, lost in the roar of the car on the tracks. For sixty glorious seconds, there were no thoughts. No strategy, no analysis, no worries about family drama back in L.A. There was only the raw, exhilarating sensation of flight, a feeling of being completely and utterly present in my own body. I felt addicted to that thrill-seeking feeling. It was a rare and welcome silence of the mind. I even understood why Dad loved being in the Air Force, flying an F-22 Raptor would be a thousand times faster, scarier and more enjoyable than this.
The car slammed into the brake run, the violent speed decelerating into a gentle, rocking stop. I was breathless, my hair a mess, and a wide, stupid grin was plastered across my face. It was a perfect, clean thrill.
I got down from the ride, my legs a little shaky from the adrenaline, and then looked for Dad. I found him leaning against a vendor cart, happily trying to eat a Churro while taking in the bustling park.
"Enjoy the ride?" he asked, a dusting of cinnamon and sugar on his chin.
"Loved it," I grinned back.
Just then, we found Mom, or rather, she found us. She was laden with several large, colorful shopping bags. "There you are," she said, her tone cheerful but all business. "My arms are about to fall off. You two can carry these." She promptly handed us the bags without waiting for a reply.
We made our way through the crowded park as the sun began to set, finding a spot on the curb of Main Street for the evening parade. As the sky darkened and the park lights brightened, a palpable sense of anticipation filled the air.
Then, it began. A wave of brilliant, synthesized music washed over us, and the first massive, glowing float turned the corner. What followed was a breathtaking procession of light and sound. There were pirates on a galleon, princesses in glittering castles, and a whole host of characters I recognized from my own childhood, all larger than life and dancing to the infectious music.
But the real show was next to me. Erin, perched on Dad's shoulders for a better view, was completely and utterly enchanted. Her eyes were wide with wonder, her mouth a perfect 'O' of awe. She pointed at every single character, shouting their names with pure, unfiltered joy. When the Little Mermaid float went by, she sang along with Ariel at the top of her lungs, her small voice full of a passion that made me smile.
I watched her, this happy, innocent kid who had no idea about past lives or killer instincts or the weight of a general's star. In her world, there was only the magic of this moment. And watching her experience that pure, simple happiness was a better thrill than any rollercoaster.
After that all of us had dinner and returned to the hotel to rest and be ready for more days of fun.
We stayed for five incredible days, a whirlwind of fun that felt more chaotic and wonderful than most days of my life.
Each day was a new adventure, dictated largely by Princess Erin and her loyal, glitter-covered "royal knight," Uncle Greg. I watched, endlessly amused, as she dragged the decorated Lieutenant Colonel onto the "It's a Small World" ride, his stoic, six-foot frame crammed into a tiny pink boat, a look of profound embarrassment on his face as the dolls sang their relentless song. Yet by then even he started showing signs of having fun.
Dad and I went on to enjoy many more rides, there was even a day when Uncle Greg was our chaperone while Mom and Dad went out on a date just for themselves. I was happy for them 15 years of being together had not dulled their romance.
By the time our last day arrived, none of us wanted to leave, but Erin took it the hardest. As we walked toward the main gate for the final time, her steps grew slower, and her lower lip began to tremble.
"I don't want to go," she whispered, her voice thick with sadness.
Dad stopped and knelt in front of her, his voice soft. "I know, Bug. It's hard to leave a magical place." He gently wiped a tear from her cheek. "But this isn't a goodbye. It's just a 'see you later.' We'll visit again in the future, I promise."
That seemed to be enough. She gave a small, watery sniffle and a brave nod.
By the time we finally made our way back home to Los Angeles, we were all happily exhausted, our minds full of new, bright, and wonderfully chaotic memories.
It was Saturday, and the silence of the night felt different. It wasn't the lazy, unstructured quiet of mid-vacation; it was the calm before the storm. The new school year starts on Monday.
I sat on the edge of my bed, the basketball on the floor by my desk seeming to pull at my attention. The trip to Florida had been amazing, a break from all the rough intensity I called my schedule. But basketball had been kept to the sidelines way too long, and I felt an almost physical hunger to get back to the grind. I was more than eager to get back onto the court.
I had a new variable to factor into my life's equation, a wonderful one. I made a decision, a clear and simple strategy for the last day of summer. Sunday was for Alex. It would be a day dedicated to us before we had to traverse the social minefield of being a couple at school. Considering the way we came about I was sure there would be some drama bound to happen during the school year but I would handle it. Alex will not suffer in any way.
I thought about all the hours of practice I'd put in, the endless drills from my dad's regimen, the late nights spent working on my left hand. I felt a deep, thrumming confidence in my muscles, a new level of control I hadn't possessed before the tournament. My training progress was tangible, and I felt like I was on the verge of a breakthrough, that I would soon awaken the skill I had been grinding for. It was close. I could feel it.
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The vacation arc ends with this and now we get back into the thick of things.