The slogan on this T-shirt caught my eye as I was sitting at the airport yesterday. I often wonder how many washes it takes before the joke on a T-shirt gets really old.

Anyway it was a welcome distraction. I was wrestling with a macadamia coconut shrimp and counting the minutes until I could get out of Orlando and back home to LA.

You know you’re in the wrong place when the highlight of the trip is the flight back. Virgin America is great. The flight attendants announce the safety procedures with interpretative dancing. They have disco lights lining the cabin. The food’s imaginative. They’re very jolly people. On Virgin you’re not a mere passenger you are a guest. In our house, a guest is a person who does not pay for the privilege of staying with us. Still, it gives you a warm cuddly feeling.

The themed hotel in Orlando was geared towards visitors heading for The Happiest Place on Earth. I, who am always geared towards a fine-dining menu and a chilled glass of sauvignon blanc, was somewhat discommoded to find the highlight of the evening’s entertainment would be the Alligator Feeding.

The alligators were in a man-made moat inside the atrium of the hotel by the ‘ancient’ walls of a ten- year old ‘medieval’ castle. I prefer my alligators to be for sale in the hotel boutique complete with shoulder strap and possibly in chartreuse. (Not really, but I do like to keep aquatic life separate from my social life.)

Despite the milling crowds and the humidity it was a fun trip. People were lovely. Kids everywhere were having a blast. But I am happy to be back in the theme park that I call home; the alfresco ‘Italian’ bars and ‘cobble-stones’ of Two Rodeo Drive, the porticos and Angstrom lighting of The Beverly Wilshire Hotel and the jumble of mock-Tudor houses, Spanish haciendas and Renaissance residences in my street. Very happy indeed.