Okay
now what?
Actually, that answer was easy. I high-tailed it back to Future World. Have you ever been in a hurry in a crowd, and had a family in tow? You know how impossible it is to actually get anywhere quickly in this kind of situation, especially if youre towing a lot of junk along. Now imagine being able to walk at least 4mph, dodging strollers, squeezing between families, and jumping into open areas in order to beat the crowd. No craning the neck to make sure the folks behind you are keeping up, no panicking that you will get separated from anyone, no stopping for smoke breaks or potty breaks or window shopping. Just you, going as fast as you want with no one to stop you. It was rather freeing. I swooped and dodged and skipped and boogied all the way back to the Land and down the basement for a little Soarin FastPassin.
I tucked the FastPass safely in my purse. Thats right, my
purse. I am sans fanny pack this trip. I mean, its no European Carryall, but it will do. I just couldnt take the abuse I got from folks after my last trip. But I have to say, fashion aside, the straps really bothered my shoulder. There is something to be said for looking like a goofy tourist
and that word is comfort. Sue me.
So I took my high-fashioned self to Test Track. I was jonesing for some speed. Since Standby is for suckas who want to wait 65 minutes, I jumped into the Singles line, which promised to be ten minutes. I put my hand on my nose and wriggled my fingers at the Standby folks outside. See you later, fools. And I merrily skipped my solo, fanny pack-less butt inside the building and around the corner.
And then I had to halt to a stop before I collided with the folks in front of me. Apparently Singles lines are for suckas too. This mutha was no ten minutes
it looked much, much longer to me. So I chalked this one up for coming in July and stood in line with the rest of the single yahoos.
All was well for awhile. Slowly, other easily fooled folks filled the singles line behind me. They too were quizzingly looking at the long line of people ahead of them and wondering what went wrong with the ticker outside. The gentlemen in line right behind me was overweight, in his mid-50s, and walked with a limp. Once in a while he would make eye contact as we inched forward in line. He didnt interact with anyone in line behind him, and his focus remained forward, so I assumed he was in the Singles line for a reason. He seemed somewhat eager to chat, as he kept making eye contact and smiling at me. He didnt put off Creepy Old Man vibes, and I could definitely outrun him should he try anything, so I decided to break the Stranger Code of Silence.
I think they lied when they said ten minutes, I said. Actually, I shout. Its pretty loud in the queue area and my voice can be rather difficult to hear in noisy areas.
Alright then? he asks in a British accent. My family is waiting outside and I told them I wouldnt be long.
Youre going to be longer than ten minutes. Even if this line was ten minutes, you still have the preshow and the ride itself.
You think this line is longer than ten minutes?
I glanced at the winding row of heads ahead. Then I looked back at him. More like thirty.
He looked uncomfortable. I hope theyre waiting for me when I get out.
They didnt want to ride Test Track?
Uh, no. My daughter wont ride anything like this. This is our first day and she hasnt ridden much of anything.
This is your first trip to Disney World?
Yes.
You havent been to Disneyland Paris?
Oh good lord no. Too many French there.
The line moves forward and I walk several paces. The gentleman limps toward me. Old war injury? I shout, pointing to his foot.
He grins and says, No, football.
Football-football, or soccer-football? I gotta ask
its the American in me.
Have you been to Europe? he asks me.
Actually, Ive been there several times. But Ive never visited England.
Im not from England, Im from Wales. He gives me a look that shames the ignorant American in me.
Like I said, Im American. I dont ride a lift, I ride an elevator. I dont go on holiday, I take vacations. And I dont know the difference between an English, Irish, Scottish, or Welsh accent. Or even Welch. Am I proud? No. But Im honest about it. Sometimes.
I dont think you heard me correctly. I said Ive never visited the United Kingdom.
The man introduces himself as David The Welshman. Okay, I added the moniker. But he was terribly friendly, and not in an Id-Like-To-Do-Illegal-Things-To-You kind of way at all. We had very nice conversation, or what can be considered conversation, with all the shouting that we had to do.
True to my guesstimate, we did reach the preshow room after about thirty minutes in line. Poor Davids family, waiting all this time and probably wondering what happened to him. The doors open, and David limps toward the second queuing area. Somehow, we end up in the same car. You know, its funny. Ive done the singles line with Dan like a million times and we NEVER sat in the same car. But thats just how things roll, I guess.
At the part where it takes our picture
foom! Finger up the nose. That one is for YOU, Danny.
Then comes the point where we are supposed to zoom around the track at full speed. We were accelerating
accelerating
and then
the car slows
slows
and stops. Right at the bank. Were just sitting in the car in the middle of the track. Then
the smell of burning rubber fills the air. Images of getting rammed in the back by the next vehicle filled my head and made me start to panic a little. I dont like that smell, and I dont like being stopped in the middle of the track, right where were supposed to be hitting around 55 mph. This isnt good, I said. This isnt good at all. The other riders look at me as I shake my head, and now Im probably letting panic set in for the rest of the car. But after a few moments the car sputters forward and slowly drives back to the queue area, sans ramming.
When our car pulls up, a cast member approached our car. Was it your car that stopped in the middle of the track? We confirm it. He says, The car in front of you had bad tires. Would you like to go again?
I answer for the rest of the car. Yes! Yes! We really hit the jackpot, getting into this car.
The cast member smiles. Okay, just hold tight and well wave you through again.
Thats when I realize: oops. Davids family is waiting for him outside. Perhaps I spoke too soon. And then I think: Well hell, he probably isnt riding this again. He really needs to experience this attraction the way it was meant to be experienced.
The part where we get our picture
foom! Up goes the finger again since I never saw the last picture. This one is for you, too, Danny. Yep, I really AM a romantic at heart.
So we go through it again. And this time we zoom around the track at 64.8 mph. Weeeee! The second trip finally ends and were scrambling out of the vehicle and out the exit. David, meanwhile, is hobbling behind. I stop at the PhotoPass area, check out my silly picture, and then walk away.
That's me, on the left and in the back with my finger up my nose. That's David, right in front of me. And that's the CM who was keeping a watchful eye out for illegal photography.
David ends up walking right behind me again as I start weaving through the post-ride automobiles. Im left with the dilemma: do I nod good-bye and jam on out of here? Or do I pause to let him catch up with me? Do I take my solo self to the next attraction, or should I just escort him to the exit like a good girl?
I decide to escort my Welsh friend. Its not like a have a list of crap to do, and its not like Im late for an appointment or anything. I mean, Im flying free and the choices are endless. Why not hang back and help the guy out? David did stick with me throughout the whole thirty minutes in line
okay, he didnt have much of a choice on that one. But he did keep those thirty minutes interesting and engaging. For that I owe him a brief taste of my personal tour guide services. You know, its what Walt would have wanted.
Now keep in mind he told his family that he would be back in ten minutes. We were in line for thirty, plus we had the preshow, and then more waiting in the second queue. Then we went around the track once and stopped. Then we hit the entire attraction again. So we must have been gone for a good forty-five, fifty minutes. We stepped outside in the bright sunlight and he looks around the crowd. Do you see them? I ask.
He shakes his head and looks a little worried. He was without a cell phone or any other means of contacting them. He looked like a lost puppy, frantically searching for his two ladies in a sea of people. I suddenly felt bad for him, and offered to assist him to find his family
not that I had any clue what they looked like
I guess I just search the crowd for Welsh-looking people. But I just couldnt leave him in this condition.
David turns back to me and smiles. Ill be fine. It was nice to meet you.
And I bid David adieu and watch him slowly limp away. He reminds me of a wounded soldier who is coming home to his family after war, only to find out they moved away because they erroneously got news that he had died in battle. Poor lost, lonely soul. I almost wept in pity.
Then I shrug, turn on my heel, and leave my new Welsh friend for dead.
Coming up: Part 4. Bathroom treasures
Holy crap, that's awful. I'm surprised a CM didn't approach her.
Then I will be the ultimate Disney fan.
Good job on lending a helping hand. 
