Episode 11 - Jungles, Trees, Caves and BEEEEEES!
Following our tribute to life by means of Dole Whip consumption, we queued up for the Jungle Cruise. Always up for some light-hearted cheese, I enjoyed it greatly, and I’m sure that I took lots of good photos. Really. I know they must exist. Somewhere. Out there. Beneath the pale moon sky. (Yes, I just went full Fievel. No regrets.)
Following our narrow escape from the heart of the jungle, we were attacked by marauding Pirates. My youngest sister, who was five on this trip, went on this attraction for the first time, and it was a bit much for her. She didn’t freak out, but she wanted to be picked up and then clenched a death hold on my dad’s neck in the queue caves. I like saying that. Queue caves. If I ever build a house, I wonder if the contractor can throw in a queue cave. That’d be nifty. Of course, I don’t know what folks would line up for. Maybe the bathroom or something.
Anyhow, it was while riding this attraction that I discovered cast members monitor the ride and can come over the loudspeaker to announce things like, “No flash photography.” Fortunately, I was not the guilty party that time. (Seriously. There was NO way I was risking breaking another park rule that day.)
The thing I remember most from this particular ride through the plundered village was just how amazed my grandparents were over the hairy leg of the pirate when you pass under the bridge near the end of the ride.
After our boat ride, we decided to hit up the infamous Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse. This was the one and only time I’ve ever been through this attraction. I’m not really sure why, other than perhaps some sort of involuntary rebellion on the part of my body at the thought of climbing that many stairs while dealing with the effects of walking at The World. I loved this movie as a kid/tween and have read the book numerous times. I don’t remember many of the details from this attraction, and I hope to at least get a peek at it this summer.
After that, I know my best friend and I wound up on Big Thunder Mountain, and I’m PRETTY sure my dad and my oldest sister rode as well. I know my grandparents did the Hall of Presidents that day, as it was a topic of discussion later that evening. I don’t know for sure what my mom and littlest sister did, or what the other folks of varying degrees of relation ventured out to partake of.
But one incident remains burned into my mind... the attack of the killer Disney bees.
At some point in time I found myself with a soda in hand near the Haunted Mansion. As near as I can remember, we grabbed a drink after Big Thunder and then headed off to take a spin on the doom buggies. I finished off my drink and dropped it into a trash can near the attraction. When I did, it apparently landed on some bees who were trying to use up their snack credits.
You need to know something about bees. They are evil. As are wasps and hornets. Don’t roll your eyes at me. Yeah, yeah, I’m familiar with pollination. Oh, believe me, I know all about the pollination. AND I know about the honey. You can claim that bees “won’t bother you if you just ignore them” all you want. These are merely cleverly crafted marketing schemes designed to fool us into not seeing the true nature of these malevolent creatures.
Well let me tell you, I AIN’T BUYING IT.
These prophets of doom have the ability to plunge a barbed spike deep into the flesh of their foes and pump their victims full of poisonous butt juice. I don’t know what YOU call that, but I call it evil! And having had an allergic reaction to a wasp sting, believe me, I was in no mood to try my luck with a bee.
So in goes the cup of half-melted ice, and out come five or six bees doing that spiral flight of doom that says, “LAY TRACKS, BROTHER!” I departed with utmost unction and flew to the safety of Fantasyland. Finally, after slowing down and realizing the horde of Satan was not in pursuit, I warily retraced my steps and met up with my dad about halfway back. He had missed seeing my dance with the bees but noticed me running hysterically and deemed it worthy of investigation.
We returned to the Haunted Mansion queue (which is not nearly as fun to say as “queue caves”) and had an otherwise uneventful ride. It was full-on dark by this time, and we found my mom holding down a rather impressive chunk of pavement along the parade route somewhere near the Rivers of America. We joined up with her and enjoyed the Main Street Electrical Parade (the only time I’ve ever seen the parade from this part of the park). We stood and admired the giant glowing bugs, which looked like they were powered by stolen Christmas lights, and then staged a strategic retreat.
Just before the parade ended, we slipped away to hit Big Thunder Mountain again and take advantage of the parade-reduced queue crowd. (Queue crowd isn’t as much fun to say either.)
After seeing some nifty wads of potassium nitrate, copper chloride, lithium carbonate, and other various chemical combustibles blasted from steel tubes into the summer nighttime sky to explode into balls of flaming light, we headed back to the van boat. (AND we even took the monorail there, ZZUB.) BUT it took us much longer to get to the TTC than it did my grandparents, who took the ferry. Not to be a hater. I’m just saying.
Closing time on the MK–TTC monorail ramp in the days before on-site value resorts and the much-maligned, yet greatly improved, bus transportation system? Not so nifty.
My extended family and I done had ourselves a dandy ole time in that there park, y’all. At the end of the day, “The Plan” turned out to be a nifty thing, and I was eager to put it to the test the next morning. Finally, after years of one-day MK visits, I was riding back to the motel knowing that I had more park ahead.
The next day was EPCOT Center day, and I gotta tell you, I was pretty stoked. I had that “First day at Disney” glow, and it was a fine thing.
I would have another extended stay a few years later, and well, let’s just say there was no park glow on THAT first day. But that’s getting ahead of myself.
OH, and I almost forgot, this day had introduced me to another first: the Brazilian tour groups. Either I just flat-out hadn’t noticed them before or just didn’t time it right. But on this trip, EVERY day, in EVERY park, including our day off-site, we kept crossing paths with them.
We soon learned their chants, and Pete and I would join in whenever we heard one passing by. By the end of the week, we weren’t sure if we were joining in their chant, or if they were joining in ours.
It was fun to realize just how many people from all over the world treasure them some Walt Disney World Resort.
Coming up on Episode 12, The Plan Unravels and I Find a New Way to Annoy My Mother. Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!
. That is a blessing that your grandfather is still beating the odds; I know because my dad had quad. bypass surgery 22 years ago this May. It still amazes me when I think about how long it's been. (And it amazes me how they don't let people stay in the hospital long enough now after surgery, but that's another thread...)
You're getting more and more like ZZUB every day. 
And yes bees are evil, malicious, vicious, and vindictive. I swear. They are all out to get me. Lucky I'm not allergic, I just don't like getting stung. Evil, Evil Bees. 
