If I were ranking the parks (which I am, apparently), I would have to be honest with you and tell you that Animal Kingdom is our least favorite Disney park. Which seems odd, considering our choice of resorts.
Don’t waste your time questioning it or trying to analyze it. I know I haven’t.
But it’s true. Although we obviously still like it (because after all, it
is Disneyworld), it just doesn’t do it for us the same way MK or Epicot does. Not by a long shot. MGM ranks only slightly higher than AK. But only because they give out straws with their drinks. No other reason.
Before we left home, we had the days planned out and were seriously considering skipping Animal Kingdom altogether in order to spend more time in the parks that we love. Feel free to go numb now. We’ll wait.
But when we left Fort Wilderness earlier than planned and realized we had plenty of time to kill before our ADR that night, both my husband and I knew that it would be a perfect time to fit AK into the schedule. We knew we couldn’t stay long, we knew we wouldn’t be able to do much, and we knew it would be an insane, whirlwind visit. NOWhirlwinders. But we also knew that if we didn’t take the opportunity to go, to seize the moment, we would probably regret it when we got back home.
Or maybe not.
Whatever.
The fact of the matter is that we just really had nothing better to do at the moment and we’re gluttons for punishment. If our morning had been slow paced (again, read: boring), our afternoon was about to be anything but.
Or was it?
We turned the corner and squealed into the Animal Kingdom parking lot burnin’ rubber and bobbin’ our heads to the beat of The Gap Band. DH took the curve on two wheels while he laid on the horn. He honked once to say “We’ve only got two hours to see this park so step aside and watch me work.” He honked twice to say “I can’t believe we’re doing this. Did we learn nothing from The Infamous Epicot Marathon?” He honked three times to say “If this goes badly, I’m blaming it on the woman.”
We found a spot, memorized our section and row, and took off for the parking tram. The one that just so happened to be coming to a stop at the end of our row. That’s what I’m talkin’ about.
We hop on and get settled in for the ride up to the gates. Right before the tram takes off, that old familiar announcement comes on over the loudspeaker. DH and I look over at each other and immediately begin doing the goofy thing that we do. No, not that. The other one. In true NM borg style, we mouth the Spanish spiel. The one we came to know so well on our first trip together way back in the day. If you’ll remember, we stayed off property then, which meant we were on the parking tram a good bit. And each and every day, we heard The Spiel. We loved that spiel. It was yet another reminder that we were about to dive headfirst into a sunny day where the biggest problem we would face would be deciding whether to head for Thunder Mountain or Space Mountain first. We laughed and we mouthed the words every time. And although we know what we’re saying when we mouth the Spanish spiel on the monorail, we have no clue what’s being said in the Spanish spiel on the parking tram. Because it seems to go on forever. Seriously. It takes the guy a good ten minutes to say what needs to be said. Okay, maybe five. But definitely no less than three. Two. A minimum of two.
As we look at each other with stone cold straight faces (the game has evolved: you have to keep a straight face now) and silently move our lips in a random fashion, the kids shake their heads and try to ignore us. As do most of the other people on the tram. We finally come to a stop and we hear the driver remind us to duck our heads on the way out.
Trust me when I say there’s a reason they tell you this. It’s just like the Balcony Warning of Wisdom. There’s always a reason behind The Warning, and you’d be wise to heed it.
We step off the tram and…
BAM!!!
You had to know that was coming.
You know, there’s always one idiot in a crowd that doesn’t pay attention to what’s going on around him. And no, that idiot wasn’t one of us. For a change.
The guy in front of us slammed his head so hard into the upper section of the tram on the way out that I thought for sure he would pass out right then and there. Instead, he just grimaced and grabbed his forehead. Stumbled a bit. Then began laughing at himself so hard I was sure he would pass out. Right then and there. Again. The entire section of our tram let out a collective “
Ooooh! That had to hurt!” We waited. We watched. We asked him if he was okay, if he needed anything. An ice bag. A gurney, perhaps. Some brain surgery to relieve the swelling. Life support. But he just kept laughing and holding his head. Insisting he was fine. Okay dude. Whatever. But don’t say we didn’t try to help when you have an aneurysm burst later on Primeval Whirl.
We finally make it to the entrance and pause to take some pictures.
As we were talking with the Photopass photographer (why does that feel redundant?), I happened to mention the fact that a couple of Photopass cards had mysteriously jumped out of my pocket (it could happen: it’s the place where magic lives) outside MouseGear at the beginning of the week and that I was sick over it. Not that I’d planned on purchasing them or anything. But still. I like to have options. Acting as if she’d heard this a thousand times before, she directed us to the photo shop near the stroller rental and assured us that they would be able to retrieve our photos and transfer them to a new card with no problem. I thanked her for the info and we took off like a shot to find out if she was telling the truth or just blowing smoke. Turns out, unlike certain food court cashiers who have been known to stretch the truth where refillable mugs are concerned, this chick actually knew what she was talking about. Once we’d told the CM at the photo shop the date, park, and approximate time and place that we took our first missing Photopass picture that day, he was able to pull up all of the families who’d had a Photopass picture taken at that location at that time.
The downside was that we had to scroll through every single smiling family who had their picture taken in front of the Epicot ball at park opening that day. Every. Single. Family. And there were a lot of them.
If you were at Epicot that day and had your picture taken by a Photopass person, we saw you. Your hair was a mess, by the way. And you should be ashamed for wearing what you were wearing. Stop slouching. I thought your Mama raised you better than that.
The upside was pretty much the same as the downside. Because we had the rare opportunity of scrolling through an insane amount of pictures of strangers at Disneyworld, we witnessed some interesting sights. And interesting fashion choices. To say the least. As the CM asked “Do you see yourself anywhere on this page?” and waited for me to confirm or deny, the next five minutes sounded something like this.
No.
No.
Oh
heck no.
No.
How is it that this guy can have no hair on his head but still have a mind boggling amount of pit hair going on? I bet that’s frustrating. For him. To have it all in the wrong place. You know? Sorry. Moving on.
No.
No.
If I see those Tigger ears again, I’m gonna lose it!
No.
No.
He must be hot with all that facial hair.
No.
It took awhile but we finally located our own smiling faces amongst the mass of humanity. In that moment, it was like striking gold. The guy behind the counter was just as happy as we were to find them because it meant that he could get rid of us. Finally. Once he had the number linked to one picture, he was able to go through and find the other ones that we had taken that day and transfer them all to one Photopass card.
In other words, he was the bomb.
THE BOMB!
We thanked him profusely for his patience and help and then went about our business of tracking down a stroller, some park maps, and heading into the park by way of the Oasis. Then we stopped to take this picture.
It's not like we don’t already have close to fifty of these already from past trips. In fact, I needed to take yet another picture of the Tree of Life like I needed a hole in my head. But still, I took it. From multiple distances and angles.
Because it’s another one of those unwritten rules that you just can't fight. Upon entering a park, you have to take multiple pictures of the monstrous structure (castle, ball, hat, tree: depending on where you happen to be) that defines the park.
You know you do it too. Even though you have tons of pictures at home of the
exact same scene, you still take them. There's no sense in fighting it. You're driven to take them. From multiple angles. At multiple distances.
Because you're a Disney geek. And an unwritten rule follower. Probably a few other things as well, but that's neither here nor there.
Because we were pressed for time, we had to skip a lot of the attractions that we normally never miss. So to switch things up a little bit, instead of taking pictures of the attractions that we were able to experience, I took pictures of the ones we didn't do but would have had we had more time.
Say the last part of that sentence really fast five times. Trust me. It's fun.
Would have had we had more time. It's the new Sally sells seashells by the seashore.
Okay, back to the stuff we missed.
There was more stuff that we missed but I can only take so many pictures in one day.
As we make our way through the park, the kids stop short when we approach DinoLand. They hear the music and they’re itching to go for a ride on the Triceratops Spin. And yes, this was the first attraction we experienced at the AK that day. Dinosaur and It’s Tough to Be a Bug were deemed unworthy of our time. We hurriedly passed them by with barely a second glance.
But that green spinning ride of puke was a must do.
The kids pick a dinosaur and DH climbs in with them. My feet are firmly planted on the ground and I’m on camcorder duty. Because I don’t do spinning rides. I especially don’t do spinning rides immediately following a meal of BBQ ribs, fried chicken, and mashed potatoes.
Washed down with five glasses of sweet tea.
With or without lemon.
If I learned nothing else from The County Fair Incident of 1986, I learned that I should never do spinning rides. On a full stomach. I also learned that gumbo and caramel apples don’t mix well. The second time around.
But that’s another story for another time and place.
Once the ride was over, we met up again, took a few steps and were knocked sideways by the evil that was visited upon our eyes. Mr. Observant was the first to spot it (of course) so he nudged my side and told me to look over to my right. There beside a bench stood three women. They were all wearing bikini tops and Daisy Dukes. But that’s not the kicker. The kicker is that one of them looked to be about seven months pregnant. That’s right. Pregnant. Wearing a bikini top and shorts that left nothing to the imagination. In Disneyworld. Nice. I threw up in my mouth and then covered the kids’ eyes until we’d made our way past them.
Then I threw up again. At the memory of the gumbo and caramel apples.
As we made our way along the pathway toward Expedition Everest, weaving in and out of the constant stream of people, we noticed that it was by far the busiest location in the park. This was the first time we’d been to Disney since the ride had been completed and we were in awe.
We stood at the foot of the mountain and videotaped the people getting their laugh scream on. The boy wasn’t up for the ride and the girl wasn’t going either. So I turned to my husband and told him he could go ahead and get in line while I stayed with the kids. To my surprise, he didn’t agree. Now, I could look at the man and tell that he was itching to get on that bad boy. But he explained that as much as he wanted to ride it, he just didn’t want to ride it alone, without either me or the boy. The first time you experience a ride is a big deal. Especially for something as cool as EE. And he wanted to wait until we could share the experience together. I tried to convince him to go and told him that he might regret not riding it once we were back home. But he wasn’t budging. He was going to wait for me. Or the boy. Or me and the boy. Because he’s very cool like that.
And with that, we turned and walked away from EE. And never looked back. Okay, so I did. I looked back. A few times. Cause that sucker is mighty cool.
The crowds were really picking up and as we made our way toward Kali River Rapids, I spotted something across the way that made me stop dead in my tracks.
Standing right there in the middle of the crowd was ZZUB.
I knew it was him right away. Because he was wearing a Vote For Pedro shirt. A Vote For Pedro shirt, of all things. I couldn’t believe it. He was sporting it loud and proud. It had to be him because nobody else in their right mind would still be wearing that shirt. It’s so two years ago. Plus the guy had a prominent chin. And looked to be in need of a shave and a Yoo Hoo. But just to be sure, something told me I should approach him. And ask.
Me: Hey. I
love that movie!
Him: What movie?
Me:
(blank stare) Are you ZZUB?
Him: No. What kind of stupid name is that?
Me: Whatever. You’re wearing the shirt. You’re ZZUB. Admit it.
Him: No. I’m not. I’m Kyle. And what the heck’s a ZZUB?
Me: It’s Buzz backw…oh, forget it.
Denial. It’s the new paranoia.
I would post a picture of him. If I had taken one. But by the time I thought about snapping a picture, the moment was over.
He clearly had places to go and things to do so we bid goodbye to our buddy ZZUB. Told him to take care of himself. And that it had been nice talking with him. Even though he clearly lies. Like a dog. Slipped him a couple of Imodium ADs and an extra roll of toilet paper from the backpack, just in case he decided to eat at Teppanyaki. And then we turned and continued on our journey.
We arrived at Kali River Rapids to find the stand by time was only twenty minutes. So we hopped in line, ready and rarin’ to go.
And yes, the sign says you may get soaked. How’s that for a little subtle foreshadowing?
We made it to our raft, hopped in, buckled the kids up, and stowed our backpack and camera gear into the well in the middle of the raft. Now, this ride itself is not pulse pounding, by any stretch of the imagination. Many moons ago, before I met my husband, I went on a similar ride at Magic Mountain in California. I don’t remember being impressed by it at all. Or even really liking it all that much. But like most other rides, it’s a totally different experience when you share it with your kids. So as the raft begins to move along in the water, the girl and I hold hands, and we grin and laugh in anticipation of what’s coming. Several years back she and I got soaked to the bone on that ride. We looked like a couple of drowned rats for the remainder of the day. It wasn’t pretty or comfortable and we were hoping that history wouldn’t repeat itself.
Funny how that happens though.
History can repeat itself. And lightning (or lightening even, depending on where you attended college) can strike twice. At the point in the ride where everyone in the raft realized the girl and I were going to be the ones with a rogue wave crashing down on our heads, we began to squeal. Both of us. Like only girls can do. My husband and our son sat across the raft and just laughed at us. Like only boys can do. I think there was some finger pointing. A touch of taunting. Mostly from the boy. I remember my husband saying “I can’t believe yall are gettin’ it again.”
Believe it, buddy. Because we did.
Our side of the raft slammed down, causing the wall of water to shoot up over our heads, hesitate for just a second in mid air (long enough to taunt us), and then crash down on top of us. The shower seemed to last forever. When it was over, we were both soaked. To the bone. The boys got wet too, but it was nothing compared to what we experienced. As much as we hated that we got that wet, it was all good though. Because we had fun. And we shared a lot of laughs. Mostly at our own expense.
Normally it would probably bother me to no end that I was so wet I could wring my shirt out on the ground. But for some reason, it didn’t that day. Maybe it was because I knew our time was almost up and we would be leaving soon. Maybe it was because that day had turned out more restful and I was feeling less stressed. Maybe it was because I wasn’t wearing white. But whatever the reason, I didn't have a care in the world. Ditto the girl. After a quick duck into the bathroom to do a little damage control, we were back at it. Full force. We were ready to fit in a few more things before Elvis left the building.
After the shower, we were in the mood for a lil sumpm sumpm. So we found the nearest snack stand, made our selections, handed the CM our Key to the Food, and found a seat. We picked a bench that was out of the way. Partly secluded. At least by Disneyworld standards. It was off to the side near one of the gates where the CMs enter and exit that section of the park. We copped a squat and dug into our ice cream bars. We talked and we goofed off. My husband played his usual trick on our son. It’s the old “This ice cream smells funny. Here, smell it” trick. The kid then gets a nose full of ice cream. It’s the oldest trick in the book and my husband has pulled it on our son his entire little life. But he still falls for it every time. Every single time. And then he throws his head back and laughs until he’s on the verge of puking.
Good times.
We sat and joked around that afternoon for what seemed like hours while we ate our snacks. And dried out in the warm sun. The funny thing to me is that in those moments, there were no characters anywhere around. We weren’t on a ride and we weren’t watching a show. But that particular point in time sticks out in my mind as one of the best moments of our trip. Truly. I remember the smiles on my family’s faces and I can hear the infectious laughter as I sit and type.
You know, no one approached us and handed us a certificate that day. We didn’t need a piece of paper or a character greeting or a well meaning, albeit empty declaration from a CM to know that we were experiencing a magical moment. All we needed was each other. Some time. A few free snacks. And a bench.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
Once the snacks were gone and the moment was over, we cleaned up after ourselves and happily gave the bench to another young family with ice cream bars in their hands and smiles on their faces. We told them to enjoy it. And to avoid stepping in the puke.
Okay, there was no puke. I was just kidding.
Or was I?
As we threw away our trash, I looked at my watch and realized we had enough time for maybe one more quick attraction before we needed to get going. The kids wanted to see some animals so we decided to take a quick spin around the Maharajah Jungle Trek.
Because we were near the entrance. No other reason.
We walked through, looked at the animals, read about the animals, and took a few pictures. For some reason, the boy is always fascinated with the bats. He could check out those nasty creatures for days. The girl, on the other hand, turns up her nose and can't wait to get out of there. Again
I say they are night and day.
Speaking of night and day, check out these slugs. Something tells me they're just gonna sleep all day, get absolutely nothing accomplished, and be up all night.
And this is one of my favorite shots of the trip.
The thing I like about the walking trails is that you can go at your own pace. Well, unless you get caught behind a really large group of really slow moving people. That’s happened before. But thankfully it didn’t happen on that day. We were able to move through the exhibits at a pretty swift pace. We were able to see what we wanted to see, and skip what we didn't.
Speaking of which, once we had seen enough of the Naked Mole Rats (it doesn't take much, believe me), we decided to head for the hotel room in order to rest before the hectic evening we had planned.
All in all, the day had been a really good one. We threw caution to the wind. Flew by the seat of our pants. Grabbed the bull by the horns. Those may not all apply here. But you get the picture. We threw the itinerary out the window and we ended up experiencing some of the most memorable moments of our trip.
Isn't that the way it usually goes? For all our planning, sometimes the best times come without a script.
But then again, the moments we plan can sometimes turn out pretty good as well.
And yes, that was more foreshadowing.
In case you couldn't tell.
Up Next: We celebrate. Celebrate. Celebrate with Mickey Mouse.
Gotta say I love how the pace of your trip is turning out, chilling at AKL for the day, a chilling morning at Fort Wilderness......I should try that style on one of my trips sometime, cos I am all about the commando,(no I am not a Ms Spears fan!!) and issuing itineraries which will be followed to the letter, or number not fussy really.
Good to know you can get your photos back if you are willing to view the sea of hairy, poorly dressed, unwashed masses.
It was the swings wasn't it? Or the Tilt-a-Whirl. 
.
