A Very Mickey Christmas Trip Report: ***DAY FIVE JUST ADDED ***

[Viki]

DAY THREE: Leprechauns


Let’s remember: One of the key factors forming much of this particular trip is that I am desperately trying to make WDW as palatable as possible to Danny. He doesn’t have to love it, he doesn’t have to come back, he doesn’t have to buy into DVC, yearn for anonymous people to call him upon check in and cheerily welcome him home, or calculate the cost of a 50 point add on at Saratoga Springs. What he does have to do is lose his holier -than-thou, I-vacation-in-real places, I was born in a mouse-free Britain - which is more than we can now say for France - smugness.

Magical Express wasn’t nearly magical enough to pull that off. Rose and Crown’s cuisine was perhaps too authentic (ooh, he hates that), but I knew as we briskly made our way to the YC’s marina, in order to catch the boat to MGM in time for the 9 AM rope drop, that one WDW offering sure to impress was its easy, multifaceted mode of internal transportation, especially with all the modes available at the Epcot resorts. So it was with a deep sense of satisfaction that I noted the boat already easing its way to Epcot and spoke with some assurety that it would be soon be picking us up on its way back.

So, we waited. And waited. And waited. And there’s one thing I knew for sure. It was too early for a dirty. Apparently, it was also too early for the boats. There were no boats. For fifteen minutes we waited. Here we are: Waiting.

And Waiting …

And Waiting …

And (scary) waiting ...

Finally, we walked. If we waited any longer we were going to miss the rope drop. We were probably going to miss it if we walked, but at least if we walked there was a chance. All the boats on Crescent Lake had sunk. And, listen that you can walk from BC/YC to MGM has to be a plus, right? That’s impressive, right? Right. That’s what I thought. So, we walked, and walked, and chatted and walked and just as we turned the curve and saw MGM rising in the distance what comes right up in back of us? That’s right. A boat. A boat that caused me to suddenly switch goals. We weren’t going to reach MGM before the rope drop, but we could, if we kicked up our pace just a notch, beat the DARN BOAT to the dock. Which we did. I’m still not sure what that proves. But we did it. Just because it was a victory without a goal doesn’t mean it doesn’t count.

It’s 9:15. We missed the rope drop. We’ve already walked too much and it’s too early for a dirty. But, at the very, very least, we have arrived.

And we know our way around.

So we walk straight up to the corner, make a right, sprint forward, and arrive at the foot of the Tower of Terror, which we proceed to ride twice, never waiting in line. Now that’s the way to do it! Even fifteen minutes off schedule. No lines, that’s my second goal. And that’s the way we kept it going through Rock N Roll Roller Coaster; we even picked up fast passes, but never made it back that way, the reason which will become clear right around lunch time.

At this point we’ve satisfied everyone’s morning tolerance for thrill rides and follow Gwen’s lead to her most favorite of all WDW’s attractions: Millionaire.

So, let’s get this out of the way. We are an overeducated group. Gwen and I have three undergraduate, 2 graduate, and a professional degree between us. Danny has a PhD. John doesn’t need as many degrees – he’s got big, big toys. He’s a well equipped cameraman back in OK and folk from all over the country stop him all week in WDW to ask him how he likes his big toys, where he got his big toys, and if they can hold his big toys. So, we’re all just the sort of suckers to be sucked back into this attraction, over and over again. In fact, Gwen has explicitly voiced the desire to some day spend one whole day there, and no doubt she would because not only is she smart, she’s quick. That’s the thing about Millionaire; if you want to sit in the big chair you have to be both, smart and quick. Gwen’s quick.

Only our first time through, as we sit perched in our seats all ready to impress Danny and John with our prowess, we never even make it on the board. You know the board I mean. The board that recalls intermittently throughout the festivities the scores of those audience members who are over performing, but not outstanding. The board that reflects the scores of those performing almost good enough for a little reflected glory from just being so near the top. Not one of us - big brains, decisive digits, or big toys, not withstanding - had earned a bit of that glory, reflected or otherwise. However, after we exited, waited in line again, and shored up our egos, the tide turned. Gwen’s brains and lightening quick digits never did achieve the success she so richly deserved, but despite my legendary lack of dexterity, the questions the guest in the hot seat was entertaining were all popping my way. I mean, I was in the zone. Not only did I know all of the answers, I knew them quick. Real quick. So quick that when they got down to the final question the players would entertain, “In March the traditional holiday pairing is of corned beef and …?” my fingers flew right to D, do not stop, do not pass go, I-bet-I’m-the next-audience-member-in-that-seat, corned beef and ... leprechauns. You bet. Corned Beef and Leprechauns. I could hardly wait to hear, “Viki, come on down.” OK, wrong show, but you get the idea. Only, just as I’m entertaining that fantasy, reality hits me upside my inflated head and says, “What they heck did you just say? Corned beef and leprechauns? What frigging leprechauns? Cabbage. The answer was corned beef and CAGGAGE." "Right," I said, "Corned beef and CABBAGE. I make it every year. That’s what I just pushed,” I said. Only self answered back and that sinking sick feel rose, “You answered leprechauns. Corned beef and leprechauns. You’re cooked.”

Well, not cooked exactly. I did end up on the board, reflected glory and all. I finished eighth. Really, for me, the original technophobe, not bad. Seriously, I was thrilled. Crowing thrilled. But, between you and me. I won that game. I had it all sown up. Corned beef and leprechauns, indeed.

It was time for a drink.

Aren’t they perty? I don’t know how many times quick-as-lightening-Gwen tried to redeem herself from her non-winning performance at Millionaire by trying to capture the pretty lights of both the red and green cubes flashing at exactly the same nanosecond. She tried lots of times. She – and I - went through a lot of photos, a lot of cubes, and a lot of drinks. It was a sacrifice. And we didn’t win the rewards of that one, either. Except we had sooooo much fun trying! I don’t remember exactly what was in those perty drinks, and it wasn’t olives, but I think that’s the point. We were thirsty, we had worked hard all morning, and we were sitting in one of my most favorite WDW restaurants.

Yes, boys and girls, we lunched at the world famous Sci-Fi Café, sitting right up front in a perty yellow car.

I don’t get it. I don’t get all the bad press this place gets. We love it. We adore it. And we have this bit of advice so that you can enjoy it too: KEEP IT SIMPLE. To really enjoy this attraction, the ambiance and the food, DON’T OPEN THE MENU. That’s right, don’t open the menu, just order the following: onion rings (yum), a Martha’s Martian with red flashing cubes (double yum), a cheeseburger (yum), another Martian with green flashing lights (double yum). And for dessert? You guessed it. A Martha’s Martian. But this time, don’t bother with the cubes. Get one of them Martians filled to the very top, sip off the first inch real quick and then put all the cubes – red and green – back in (really, really yum).

 

[Viki]

That was our day at MGM. Yup, that was our whole day. We’d be back, but not that day. We had other fish to fry that day. And the next item on that menu was a boat ride back to BCV – yes, we rode the boat, and by that point, with the help of a few Martha’s Martians – we liked the boat a lot better. In fact, we loved that boat. What a really, really nice boat. And what a really, really nice nap we took – for two long hours. I don’t know what the teens did, but all four adults took a really, really nice long nap.

And when we all woke up to keep our 7 PM dinner appointment at the Flying Fish? Not one of us was hungry, not even a little bit. But since when did that stop anyone at WDW? So off to eat we went. The background here is that our first and only visit to the Flying Fish was about five years previous when my Orlando-based architect sister and BIL took us there for dinner to admire the architecture. We did. What we didn’t admire was the food (And, hey, how high do you think we set the bar? We like the food at Sci-Fi Café and our first meal was at Rose and Crown). But we’re good sports and after reading so many great reviews we decided it was time to give the place another go. How could we possibly know that that very evening onion rings, cheeseburgers, and Martians would be sitting like rocks in our stomachs?

I don’t even remember what all this food and drink was, but it was all really, really good. I do remember I had the steak and the figs and both were to die for.

And after all the fun and frivolity of the day, what better way to celebrate than tossing a few lobsters? It’s a gift. A weird gift, but a gift, and I have the teeny tiny stuffed animals to prove it.

And, of course, we're gay, so we toured the BW to ooh and ahh at all the decorations.

Look at that jacket!

 

[Mama Twinkles]

Fabulous write-up and pictures, Viki! I was cracking up at the description of racing against the boat, as if having to prove that you had made a good decision not to wait for it, or perhaps in retaliation because it had let you down. The picture of the giant drinks with lit-up cubes was also really funny in context. You have a great sense of comedic timing and a way with words. The leprechaun incident and your and Gwen's trying to regain your self-esteem by photographing the synchronously lit cubes over and over again rang true in a hilarious way. It sounds as if you guys are destined for the hot seat some day. And congrats on tossing a mean lobster.

 

[StormTigger]

Corned Beef and Leprechauns

Okay, I laughed so hard it hurt.. it really hurt! It's a good thing laughter is suppsoe to be the best medicine, cuz I think I just pulled something.

Thank you Viki! Loving the report, loving the pictures, and really needed the laugh!

Can't wait for more ... actually I can.. I need my sides to stop hurting first!

 

[T&KHayes]

Awesome Viki! Can't wait to hear the rest, and so far how are your menz friends enjoying themselves??? Can't wait to hear their impressions! And, I totally get the icecube thing....the other day dp and I were going somewhere with a good friend of ours and when we got into her car I looked up at the sunroof and there was this really neat almost leopard print to the water (it was raining earlier) and decided I wanted to snap a pic with my phone. Well she decided to as well and mine didn't look as cool as hers so I made her wait while I took several more shots. Dp was in the back, laughing and wanting to know if we could go yet! LOL All for leopard print water drops!!!

 

[wallyb]

Viki - I L O V E your trip report.
So funny.

 

[Viki]

DAY 4: Soarin

What’s the saying, “I believe thou dost protest too much?” Or, “The bigger they are, the harder they fall?” Or, “A stitch in time saves nine?” No, not that last one. But the first two, I believe they apply. Fifteen years ago, when we first met Danny, he was fresh off the boat from Britain. I believe I served him, in our home, over twenty home-cooked gourmet meals, over which one of his cultured dates, a professor of music at Temple University, once said, “You prepare the finest food I have ever eaten outside of a five star restaurant” (I believe that particular meal began with almond crusted deep fried brie, progressed towards bleu-cheese stuffed pork chops, and was capped by a light-as-air chocolate mousse), and it still took dear Danny at least another year before he commented, after one meal, “Nicely done.” I remember thinking at the time, such effusiveness, long hoped for! I just about fell off my chair – and this, high praise indeed, over shrimp, feta, and scallions in Asian red curry paste over a Boboli pizza crust (my own recipe, which he still makes me make).

He’s come a long way. In fact, he’s come all the way to WDW, kicking and screaming – with all due decorum, but please remember the “after” picture from page one. He’s getting the hang of it – literally. For today, what had become, at the very least, palatable, is about to be born as a full-blown obsession. First thing, we rouse ourselves from our epicurean bloat and are, this morning, the first in line for the International Gate rope drop. Yeah! Success. No toting that barge or lifting that bale, we did it the old fashioned way: we walked and we made it and it was only 8 AM. Yes, the dreaded EMH, but I don’t care what propaganda you’ve read on these boards, those babies are worth their weight in gold. You get me to any park by 8 AM (7:45 actually) and I have done everything worth doing in that park by 11:00 AM, just in time for a Martian. That’s right, when you know what you’re doing, they’re all half-day parks.

Clearly, we know what we’re doing – and, really, what an accomplishment in life, to have mastered the mechanics of navigating a theme park. So, when that rope drops, we’re off. It’s the authentic Amazing Race. It’s the ability to race not only the mob of lemurs (in December???) you’re currently traveling with, but the unseen – but nevertheless very real – hordes of barbarians bearing down on your destination from the other, bigger and better well-known source, otherwise known as the FRONT GATE, while at the same time looking as if you are on vacation. We all know where we are headed. There really is only one place to head. Yes, you can play that beat the crowds, go get the fast pass, and then travel cross-country to where the crowds aren’t game, but that’s cold. The thrill is that you beat the crowds and are smugly standing at the head of the line for the first ride of the day, a feat which you enjoy with a deep seeded satisfaction as you turn your head back to gaze upon the crowds behind you, who are precisely behind you to witness to your victory.

As a direct result of this sort of ruthlessness, er … sorry, trip planning, we did, indeed achieve our objective of being one of the first in line to ride Soarin for our very first very time ever and without any additional effort on our parts also achieved our goal of riding in the front row, the joys of which were further confirmed not only by our experience but by a woman, a solo traveler, who appeared seemingly out of thin air, relating that she had enjoyed the Soarin adventure over thirty-five times in merely three recent visits. There must be an attractor force at work. Something which literally draws those of us who grasp the possibilities to the same place at the same time. Eerie, isn’t it?

In truth, it could be that the six of us, five of us and the very special one of her, were all occupying the same vaulted position because of the time and place, but that’s capitulating a bit too much to a scientific mindset in a such a magical setting. I think she was the universe’s way of providing us prologue. She was the champagne on our maiden (dare of I say virgin?) Soarin adventure. With the glorious result that by the time we were buckled into our front row seats, gazing with childlike awe at the enormous proportions of the screen in front of us, even before the first lift had raised us over the bucolic vistas of sunny California, we were already transported to never, never land. It was a fertile journey that would give birth to three successive bouts of “ride, fast pass,” “ride, fast pass,” “ride, fast pass” for all five of us and which would, for Danny, continue to birth the same festive cycle over the course of the entire week. In fact, he is winging his way back to the World, on the pretense of a conference, in three short weeks but I know where he can be found.

Truly, it was magical, but there ARE a few other things to do in Epcot, and remember I set the bar high: done by 11 AM, because, really, who by then isn’t thirsty? So, eventually, with great moaning and gnashing of teeth we did, somehow, manage to tear ourselves away and visit, in order: Ellen’s Energy Adventure (still very gay, very nice), the Epcot Ball (needs an update, the new folk don’t get it, not one little bit, no charm, no good, the WAND is the best part!), and Test Track (it’s nice, but it’s no Soarin).

At length we have done everything worth doing in Future World. It is now time to show Mr. European the rest of World Showcase. But can it come as any great surprise that we make it no further than Mexico? Frankly, no guilt, no shame. I wrote this one right into the schedule (Yes, there is a schedule, drawn out in exquisite detail, with columns, rows, ADR confirmation numbers, and bordered with holiday illustrations), “on Monday, December 5th we will have a lost afternoon in Mexico.” We could debate on how lost it is when it’s right on the itinerary, but believe me we got lost and here were the culprits:

Yes, we also ate. Quell surprise! In addition to the chips, guacamole, and multiple marguerites, of every color from many sources, we fell in love with the combo plate, especially whatever it is those little crispy things that they are calling quesadillas really are! Yummy times. If I remember correctly, Danny and John skipped over to Germany to bring back Brackworst and sauerkraut (Yes, go right ahead, I said, margarita in hand, walk right around the world, sampling whatever it is your hearts desire!), while the teens had sushi (we’ve raised very cosmopolitan youth).

 

[PennyW]

More more more!

(I can't believe that not one of us thought to take a picture of our R&C gathering!)

 

[joanjett1976]

More pics

Loving it!

On our last visit to Flying Fish, we were stood up by our men-friends who were completely depleted after our hard day of Tower Of Terror dropping. The poor waitress seemed completely shattered that we had been stood up by our 'dates'. We drowned our sorrows in a few rounds of the champagne sampler and the Chocolate Soufflé was on her

 

[k8x]

Wow! O WOW. Hi Viki. I'm a newbie (ex-lurker). Here's a tip o' the brim to ya. I've been reading with glee your fine, fine writings about your epic adventures... but today's ~~ Today's is priceless! "Nicely done!" as they say...
(I'll leave it at that!!!)
cheers,
k8

 

[Viki]

BAH HUMBUG!

It may not be the Mexican Riviera, but there are few sights in the World more whimsical than one you can spy when you float down the Beach Club’s Sand-Bottomed pool’s lazy river, with the sharp Atlantic City hues of the recreated Boardwalk, the playground of my youth, rising in the distance, as you come around the bend. Somehow, and of this I am true - I have no memory of the how - we gaily sauntered from Mexico to Cape May, donned our swimwear and siestaed our way through the remains of the day on our very own nautical adventure. It was pure bliss and the end came much too soon.

Soon enough, however, it was time to pretty up and dress for dinner. On the verge of our evening’s adventures, let me say two things. First, of all the sit down restaurants in World Showcase, I’ve always believed that Marrakesh was the most undervalued. So much so, in fact, that when you couldn’t get a sit down meal anywhere else in WS, most of the time you could walk up to the doors of Marrakesh, be promptly seated, and enjoy both a very good meal and a lovely show (a really lov-er-ly show!). Second, as I’ve mentioned, for all of our many visits to the World, we had never visited during the holidays, so it was with a certain degree of real expectation that we looked forward to our evening dinner package of a sumptuous Moroccan meal followed by Cicely Tyson, one grand dame, presiding at our very first experience of the Candlelight Processional.

With all of this in mind, we set forth, feeling surprisingly good and – wonder of wonders – authentically hungry. Unfortunately, that’s where the authenticity of the evening reached its limit. I don’t know what in the World has happened since last we dined there, but the meal we were served at Marrakesh was the most warmed-over parody of Middle Eastern food I have ever experienced. Despite our expectations, we were not counting on the quality of food or ambiance that we can enjoy by traveling to Center City Philadelphia and indulging in the cuisine of a restaurant by the same name, but with all those added touches you know you’re not going to get in WDW: a tight, dark and dusty womb-like space fully capable of affording the occasion for all sorts of frivolities, overflowing with pillowed sofas set in semicircles, complete with servers carrying trays of food up and down secret passageways and whisking them, with a final flourish, through draperied doorways, with not one plate or eating utensil in sight from the beginning of the feast to the end. It’s all done in close-knit gatherings and it’s all done by hand. Lovely. Not so at WDW’s Marrakesh, and not expected. Still, stripped of all that is truly Moroccan, its offense wasn’t that it was awful, but instead that it was so middle-of-the-road, hey-mom-look-at-me-I’m-eating-something-fancy, mediocre.

Still, I can say, Danny did enjoy his meal:

There must have been some of this being sprinkled in the kitchen to make that so.

Here were the rest of our meals:

This very simple dessert was surprisingly sumptuous (or, perhaps, I was still just that hungry):

We did have one heck of a good time ordering native Moroccan wines (who knew?) off the menu.

Here's John. looking very Moroccan!

And the belly dancer? She was the most sumptuous of all, but of course I failed to snap that photo. Given a clear choice between preserving mediocre food or the fleeting beauty of a woman, I shot the food. I should be flogged.

In the meantime, dinner wined its way to an end, we acquired new secret gnosis about which line to stand in for the Candlelight Processional when you have tickets, grieved for the folk who did not - but nevertheless stood in long, two-hour lines because they lived in hope, and finally found ourselves seated on the left hand side of the outdoor auditorium, near where the stately trumpeters would soon take up their guard. Disappointed in our food – though, of course, not the meal; the meal included friends, family, wine, and beautiful women – we were hungry for what might come next. All of which leads me to wonder, “What shall we say to these things?” Perhaps Danny, the musical aficionado who travels throughout the country to enjoy good opera and once stood at the Met for three hours to listen to Wagner’s Ring cycle, says it best when he says, “Go to Disney for what Disney does bet.” Well said.


Disney does many things well. Apparently, what Disney does not do well is choral music. The evening started promisingly enough when choir after choir, from all over the state and from among many gifted WDW employees, filed in. And who could not enjoy it when Cicely Tyson, stately, regal, and humble, all at the same time, took the stage. And the narrative, well the narrative is the timeless piece that it is and “One Solitary Life,” whether read in church, Rockefeller center, or WDW never fails to move me. And the trumpeters. My goodness what a grand display of ornamental bravado. I’m a sucker for ornamental bravado. But, please, and this is the core of it, if I wanted to listen to four professional singers who sing for a living at WDW I would camp out at the American pavilion. Forgive me. Please! But I came to hear choral singers. I came to hear complex groups of altos laying the musical base from which many soprano voices would courageously soar the vibrato heights. I came to hear a choir of tenor voices cutting through the thick of the night crisp, clean, and haunting. And it didn’t have to be “good.” None of it had to be good. But it had to be THAT. It had to be what was advertised: CHOIRS. Horribly, disappointingly, dishonestly, what it was, instead, was four professional singers WITH MICROPHONES standing in front of 100 choral singers rendered MUTE by the 4 singers WITH MICROPHONES.

Big Sigh.

Did I mention that after the CP we once again perched ourselves in England and thoroughly enjoyed Illuminations, for the second night in a row? Did I mention that? Because we did and it was really, really fine. Brilliant, in fact. Really, really nice. Especially the last part: Let there be Peace on Earth. I am ALL about Peace. Bring the Peace!

 

[True North]

Oh my! It took me a while to catch up, and I have stuff I want to say, but I think first I need to run to the kitchen. Your pictures of all the food have made me too hungery to type!

 

[Viki]

Oh my! It took me a while to catch up, and I have stuff I want to say, but I think first I need to run to the kitchen. Your pictures of all the food have made me too hungery to type!

Friend, you are sooooo predictable! I KNEW the food would get you!!!

 

[Grammyof2]

I am so glad you have started to finish this report. Did that even make sense?

Loving the pics. The food looks really good. Especially the drinks

 

[True North]

Okay Viki, I am the only one who admited it, but when you posted 10 pictures of wonderful food in a row I'm sure a lot of readers ran to their kitchens like me. I now have to add the Flying Fish to my list of places to check out. If I keep reading these threads I think I will be doing nothing but travel from restuarant to restaurant the entire trip. (Not that there is anything wrong with that, I just think DH and DS would not be impressed. )

I know you said you don't remember all the meals, but do you know what this one was? For some reason I want it, despite the fact all I see is black with a random yellow-spotted sauce.

 

[Viki]

Okay Viki, I am the only one who admited it, but when you posted 10 pictures of wonderful food in a row I'm sure a lot of readers ran to their kitchens like me. I now have to add the Flying Fish to my list of places to check out. If I keep reading these threads I think I will be doing nothing but travel from restuarant to restaurant the entire trip. (Not that there is anything wrong with that, I just think DH and DS would not be impressed. )

I know you said you don't remember all the meals, but do you know what this one was? For some reason I want it, despite the fact all I see is black with a random yellow-spotted sauce.

Oh, friend, we are soulmates for sure THAT photo is my steak and THAT sauce is to die for. The entire dish was simply the best steak I have ever eaten in my whole life and I don't it's any secret that I love to eat and make a fine hobby of it in some of the very best places.


BTW, the fresh figs were also simply the best.

 

[wallyb]

I'm a bit of a foodie as well.
Alway try to hit the Flying Fish.
And I agree Sci-Fi Café gets so "dised" and I don't get it.
We alway go there for lunch on MGM day. O-rings yum!
This next trip Jiko for the first time!

 

[Viki]

I'm a bit of a foodie as well.
Alway try to hit the Flying Fish.
And I agree Sci-Fi Café gets so "dised" and I don't get it.
We alway go there for lunch on MGM day. O-rings yum!
This next trip Jiko for the first time!

Yes, we'll be dining at Jiko for the first (few!) times in August - can't wait!

 

[Viki]

DAY 5: Bonjour Paris, Bonsoir Magic Kingdom!
(This title is for you Gen; it’s meant to show off my four high school years of parlez vous-ing Francais)

Not with your calculator, slide rule, abacus, or supercharged particle accelerator could you better measure or dissect the sheer brilliance of this day more precisely; this day was science and art, welded and wielded, as only someone who has achieved the glorious goal of mastering the mechanics of NAVIGATING A THEME PARK could craft and exercise. All WDW parks are half-day parks and to put this principle to the ultimate test I devised today’s schedule to accomplish ALL of the following: REST after last evening’s excursions (admittedly not that strenuous, but the larger than life daily excesses of the World do accumulate), INTRODUCE the boys to another adventure in WS haute culture counter service dining, PRESENT the charms of Magic Kingdom to Danny in such as way as to forever win his allegiance to the jewel in the crown of the Land of the Sacred Mouse, EXPERIENCE every single attraction worth experiencing in the MK in one, brief evening, and ENJOY every single special MVMCP event in a leisurely fashion as we trip the holiday light fantastic through the Magic Kingdom.

I’m a big girl. Easily bored and not easily daunted. I need a challenge. It’s a disease. This was a challenge, because the real issue was this: how to present WDW over an 8-day span in the most ADULT light possible. I knew this was the only way I was ever going to win Danny over, SO over that we might, despite his uncharacteristically – and very non-British - boisterous protestations to the contrary, get him to some day COME BACK. In fact, I was so driven by the correctness of this strategy that for months ahead of time I was e-mailing him every Food and Wine festival “special event” menu that I could cull, all with the small print disclaimer, “We won’t actually be there during that time of year but SEE what WDW can do when it wants!” Very persuasive. He never even responded. I’m sure it was that British reserve. Still, I am not easily daunted and so I continued to vigorously pursue my “Package WDW as the – family friendly – Babylon of that Small Southern piece of Tropical Real Estate that was once Connected to the Continent of Africa” strategy and here – day 5 – was the greatest challenge of all.

My goal was the Ultimate Seduction by way of World Domination. We were vacationing in Cape May. Our first evening we dined in Britain. The first theme park we visited was Epcot and the second was MGM. The meal we shared at Flying Fish would prove to be the peak culinary experience we shared that week. And for all that Morocco and the Candlelight Processional were a wee bit “off,” they were still ADULT. All of which is to say, it was no coincidence that our first visit to the Magic Kingdom came no sooner than day 5! The Grand Unified Theory of the Universe should be so well thought out (in fact, if it was, it might exist!). In a nutshell it all came down to: Don’t show the boy the Magic Kingdom too soon and when you do show him the Magic Kingdom show him at night, when it’s all aglow, even though he isn’t (the MK is dry, very, very dry).

In the interests of pursuing an adult day at the magic Kingdom – the most “family-friendly” of the four parks - what better way to break our fast than in Paris?

My favorite French Sailors, just off the Boat:

For all of our rings around the rosiness of the many delectable food offerings of WS, we had never eaten in at the outdoor cafe. The Bistro De Paris? Oui. The Chefs de France? Twice. But the Boulangerie Patisserie, around the corner, perched on the curb? Non. With the result that we could not think of a more adult way to begin the day than at an outdoor Parisian café, a setting so refined that the women of the REAL Paris are not even allowed to be fat; the secret of which is that those dear souls eat everything under the sun - supremely rich sauces, cream filled pastries, buttered scones - but they eat them in such miniscule portion sizes that you can’t even see them. Really, the recommended serving size for all of these delectables is such that if the women in question hold them oh sooooo close to the body heat emanating from their puckered little lips, the food itself merely evaporates, transitioning from solid straight to vapor, passing a few molecules of flavor oh sooooo judiciously immediately over their oh sooooo disciplined taste buds. No pain, no gain. We thought we’d give it a go.

What did we order? Well, just like the highly touted ladies of Paris, we ordered everything in sight. No, really. We ordered everything on the menu. Here is what we ordered:

Apple Tart, Peach Tart, Strawberry Tart, Chocolate Chip Cookie, Mickey Mouse Cookie, Elephant Ears, Croissant Plain, Croissant Chocolate, Chocolate Éclair, Chocolate Mousse, Fruit Bavarois, Raspberry Schuss, Apple Turnover, Pralineige, Napoleon Cream Puff, Cheesecake, Coconut Pyramid, Caramel Soufflé, Ham and Cheese Croissant, Ham and Cheese Quiche, Ham and Cheese Sandwich, French Baguette Bread, Cheese Plate

That is the whole menu.

Six of us. No, really, we did, and if I remember correctly we went back and reordered a few of them.

Apparently, we got half the equation right: Parisians can eat anything. But here’s where I think we made a FATAL mistake. We proceeded to eat everything. No, really, we did. Yup. Everything. It was good and I think it held us a couple of hours.

I honestly don’t remember. More thoroughly than a pitcher of margaritas, I can honestly confess that following Babbette’s feast I lost at least three hours. Just gone. Puff! Or, was that (cream) puff! Somewhere in there I do remember that Danny bought his first holiday-themed WDW head gear. It was the one with a XMAS tree, complete with dangling gifts, hanging from its holiday hinges. With the reality of sugared plums taking up residence within, altogether he purchased seven and his first weekend back in OK he threw a party for his closest friends at which they each had to choose and wear one of them. From all of this, dear readers, I am forced to conclude that the Surgeon General is oh sooooo correct. It is excess food, not alcohol, which posses the greatest threat to our country’s health. But who, I ask, knew it was our mental health which was up for grabs?

I am sooooo glad we were all being sooooo adult.

 

[joanjett1976]

Quel festin, Mademoiselle Viki!

Yeee-haaa, that's a lot of pastries

I had a wisdom tooth removed this morning and looking at starchy, crunchy food with sharp edges that could hinder the healing process is downright cruel!!! Val had to go to work (does Urban Outfitters ever close? No.) and I am left to my own devices attempting to infuse flavor in apple sauce and yogurt.

And I am not even going to pretend I did not see your thick planning folder