#physh be rambling

[physalian]

I think there’s a difference between ignorant and informed “problematic” content. I have a very thick skin for all manner of squicky tropes, but usually I find it in a dead dove fic where the author goes “wouldn’t it be fucked up if…?”

Vs an ignorant author who goes “wouldn’t it be so romantic if…?”

As in, the author knows what they’re writing is triggering and will upset people, reader beware, it’s just for shits and giggles. It’s fun, we’re having a good time, and we all go home knowing the author doesn’t take this seriously.

Or, wow that was horrific and the author and their fans wholeheartedly agrees yeah that was horrific! Wasn’t it great?

Versus an author, usually of original fiction, who does not have the lived experience to understand the ramifications of just what they’re romanticizing. Like, an author who is not a survivor of SA glorifying SA without two shits given to how what they’re saying isn’t inherently sexy.

Or wow that was horrific but the author and their fans going um excuse you, bigot, it was so romantic.

Just. Some self-awareness, maybe? You can indulge yourself while accepting and even embracing that it's a little fucked-up. It's human to be into some fucked-up things.

[physalian]

Never. Ever. Ever. Sail out of Port Everglades.

It’s not a cruise terminal, it’s a freight terminal. Many cities don’t have a dedicated cruise port, but compared to Port Canaveral with like, 8 different dedicated docking bays specifically for cruise ships and a gloriously painted Disney garage with a giant-ass logo on the side?

Port Everglades can go kick rocks.

Why?

Well. When we got there it was under heavy road construction, construction that blocked the signs to tell us where to go. Fine, fine, roadwork is necessary. The garage was not marked clearly, but it was a Disney garage, once you saw the side facing the ocean. Not, you know, the fucking road, so travelers can see it. The captain of the ship will know where he’s supposed to dock or he’ll have a direct radio line to the people working at the port.

All of this pales in comparison to the trip home.

We land at the Ft. Lauderdale airport at like 10:30 at night on a Friday and have to Uber back to the seaport. Our blessed, glorious, amazing Uber driver followed Uber’s directions to the FREIGHT PORT, the US Port Authority, and I swear to God, I think the security guard thought me and my friend were being kidnapped and trafficked.

She had us all show our IDs, checked the trunk for weapons, and had police escort us for a U-turn 20 feet into the port.

Then, she rerouted us with some vague-ass directions with the excuse “you know Florida better than me, I’m from Ohio.” My good ma’am. Lady. Why on Earth would you think two tourists would know a port, in the dark, in the rain, better than you who work there?

Anyway.

We get sent on our merry chase for a gate that isn’t locked or guarded by more security and finally reach the Disney garage. In the Dark. In the Rain.

Well guess fucking what?

It’s locked. And no one’s inside. Our Uber driver isn’t getting paid for any of this nonsense, by the way. He’s just a good man who won’t dump two women on the side of the road in the middle of the night (we tipped him 25%).

I get out of the car, paranoid that we’re going to get caught trespassing or something and arrested, and I try the two gates on the sidewalk for foot traffic.

Locked.

I turn back to the car, turn back to the garage, and spot the doors to a stairwell. It’s unlocked.

We pay the saintly Uber man and are now inside the garage. I get to my car, we pay an exorbitant parking fee, and we make it to the bottom floor of the garage.

Which, reminder, is locked.

We drive around and I spot headlights on. There’s a dude sitting in his car. I don’t know what he’s doing there, it’s not marked like the local authority. He tells us to just drive up to the gate and it will open.

We finally get the fuck out of there and I get lost, because it’s dark and raining and the signs are all fucked by the construction and so is my GPS.

It takes 2 whole U-turns on the spaghetti slop of highways in this godforsaken city to finally find the turnpike and go home. While the dude who told us how the gate works tailgated us four six lights, by the way. It was creepy as hell.

None of this was outlined by Disney, mind you. No “hey you might be locked out if you arrive super late”. It’s their goddamn garage, but it’s run by Port Everglades.

To the people of Fort Lauderdale: I’m sure you have a lovely city, but your port is ass. Your airport is okay though.

And to the next person who thinks it’s cute to comment: "Lucky you for having the privilege of affording a Disney cruise while many people are struggling."

Babe. Honey. Darling.

Your arrogance is fatter than the broad side of my boat and you’re a bully.

Never sail out of Port Everglades. Ever.