Goofster57
What if the “Hokey Pokey” really is what it’s all
- Joined
- Sep 9, 1999
- Messages
- 3,088
Just what I needed another report to subscribe to, if this keeps up Im sure my boss will catch on to why I am so far behind in my work. 
Our Seemingly Silly Semi-Illogical Four Day Whirlwind Trip
- Thread starter Kay7979
- Start date
dizneydonna
Earning My Ears
- Joined
- Sep 18, 2006
- Messages
- 28
Thanks for another great installment. It's so cute..........I'll check in from time to time to see if you've added one. When I actually see that you've posted another installment, I automatically let out a "YES"! Thanks for giving me a great read to look forward to.
novdisneydreams
Mouseketeer
- Joined
- Oct 16, 2005
- Messages
- 315
Great report - More, please !
From your newest groupie ...
From your newest groupie ...
Kay7979
FANTASY NOVEL AUTHOR
- Joined
- Jul 14, 2004
- Messages
- 2,196
I hope to be posting the remainder of my Mission Space episode tomorrow. In preparation for that:
Trip report DISclaimer:
This report includes descriptions of simulators, spinning, enclosed dark spaces and loud noises, which could cause stress and heart palpitations for some readers. Others may experience uncontrollable fits of laughter. You should not read this report if sitting and reading for prolonged periods creates neck, back or eye pain. Avoid this trip report if you have short fingernails, hemorrhoids, sore ribs, or narcolepsy. The report should not be read by persons who find it painful to snort when they laugh, or who have a history of losing urine when snorting and laughing. Conversely, it should not be read by those with an impaired sense of humor, as this deficiency may later create writer’s block for the author, terminating further episodes of this report.
Seriously, if you don't want to know what happens on the Mission Space ride, you won't want to read my next episode. I will post this disclaimer again with the actual trip report.
goofster57 - I hope you don't get in trouble reading at work, but hey, sometimes I'm WRITING at work! I have a home office, however, so it's a bit less dangerous 
Krismom - Thanks a million for the great compliment. I hope I will continue to bring you enjoyment.
dizneydonna - your comments always inspire me to go write another episode. I think the next installment may be a tough act to follow.
novdisneydreams - thanks so much for signing up to be a TRG Trip Report Groupie. I need the encouragement to keep creating new episodes.
Hey all you Lurkers, let me know if you're out there. Just pop in if only to say "Hey!" 
Trip report DISclaimer:
This report includes descriptions of simulators, spinning, enclosed dark spaces and loud noises, which could cause stress and heart palpitations for some readers. Others may experience uncontrollable fits of laughter. You should not read this report if sitting and reading for prolonged periods creates neck, back or eye pain. Avoid this trip report if you have short fingernails, hemorrhoids, sore ribs, or narcolepsy. The report should not be read by persons who find it painful to snort when they laugh, or who have a history of losing urine when snorting and laughing. Conversely, it should not be read by those with an impaired sense of humor, as this deficiency may later create writer’s block for the author, terminating further episodes of this report.
Seriously, if you don't want to know what happens on the Mission Space ride, you won't want to read my next episode. I will post this disclaimer again with the actual trip report.
goofster57 - I hope you don't get in trouble reading at work, but hey, sometimes I'm WRITING at work! I have a home office, however, so it's a bit less dangerous Krismom - Thanks a million for the great compliment. I hope I will continue to bring you enjoyment. dizneydonna - your comments always inspire me to go write another episode. I think the next installment may be a tough act to follow. novdisneydreams - thanks so much for signing up to be a TRG Trip Report Groupie. I need the encouragement to keep creating new episodes. Hey all you Lurkers, let me know if you're out there. Just pop in if only to say "Hey!" 
Kay7979
FANTASY NOVEL AUTHOR
- Joined
- Jul 14, 2004
- Messages
- 2,196
PART EIGHT
Trip report DISclaimer:
This report includes descriptions of simulators, spinning, enclosed dark spaces and loud noises, which could cause stress and heart palpitations for some readers. Others may experience uncontrollable fits of laughter. You should not read this report if sitting and reading for prolonged periods creates neck, back or eye pain. Avoid this trip report if you have short fingernails, hemorrhoids, sore ribs, or narcolepsy. The report should not be read by persons who find it painful to snort when they laugh, or who have a history of losing urine when snorting and laughing. Conversely, it should not be read by those with an impaired sense of humor, as this deficiency may later create writer’s block for the author, terminating further episodes of this report.
SERIOUSLY, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS ON THE MISSION SPACE RIDE, DO NOT READ THIS EPISODE!
Okay, for the rest of you, here we go . . .
Lowell and I enter the X-2. Wow! Look at all these buttons, controls, and view screens. It’s a pretty realistic space capsule. As if I am an expert on this. My credentials as a space capsule critic are somewhat limited. I have, however, watched every science fiction film from It Came from Outer Space to Apollo 13 to Star Gate. If that counts.
We move all the way to the right and slip into our seats. The dad takes the farthest seat on the left and the boy drops into the one next to me. I see why the ride warning mentions a fear of enclosed dark spaces. We’re packed in like four C cell batteries in a flashlight.
A shallow bin under the control panel has been provided to hold small items, and I debate what to do with my “wallet on a string.” I try stuffing it into the compartment, but it’s a bit too thick, so I keep it on the seat with me, partially wedged under one leg. Great. I’ve got a Lime Green Mickey Head Paint Chip stuck to the wallet to identify me as a member of the DIS. By the time we reach Mars, I’ll have a Mickey head imprint on my thigh. It could be worse.
I’m not sure what Lowell does with the camera, but neither of us thinks to take pictures in here, before or during the flight, which is a shame . . . the photos would have been out of this world.
The kid looks fascinated by the instrument panel and view screen and examines everything with an eight year old’s curiosity. His enthusiasm does not rub off on Dad. I think Dad and Mom drew straws for which one got to be stuffed into this four-seater tin can and catapulted into space, and Dad drew the short straw.
We spend a few seconds getting comfortably situated and looking around at everything. Lowell and I make small talk and I start to relax.
Until . . .
The capsule door closes. And locks. Ominously.
That’s when a disturbing thought occurs to me which I try unsuccessfully to chase away. What if a Cast Member screws up and puts people from the green line into a spinning capsule by mistake? How do I know this is the “tame version?”
A scenario plays out in my head. We launch. We start whirling about, faster and faster, plastered against our seats like four wet socks in the washer on spin cycle. I scream, “Stop spinning us! We’re Green!” Yes, green, in more ways than one and getting greener by the moment.
But there is only silence.
And more spinning.
I have heard that extreme G forces distort a person’s face. A few more minutes of this and my eyes will be on the sides of my head like a fish and my lips will be somewhere under my chin. I’ll look like a Mr. Potato Head with all the parts scrambled.
A video camera inside our capsule is trained on us, with people at the other end clustered about a monitor, watching our plight, their pale faces registering their mistake.
Mission Control comes on the radio, sounding grim. “Buck up, Green Team, we can’t abort the launch now. Try not to panic.”
I panic. I press every button on my control panel. Nothing! Must be defective.
Then I reach over and start pressing buttons on the kid’s panel next to me. He tries to stop me, but I dodge his hand and keep jabbing his buttons as he tries to swat me. Desperation makes me too fast for him. One of these controls has got to turn us around.
“Hey lady!” the kid cries. “Cut it out!”
I stab the last button, unwilling to give up hope until I’ve tried every one. The kid gives my arm a vicious pinch and I jerk my hand away.
CapCom’s voice crackles over our speaker, “By the way, Green Team, don’t touch any controls. Repeat, do NOT touch the controls. Pressing the wrong buttons could be fatal.”
About then, I really DO hear the voice of CapCom which snaps me out of my nightmare. I rub damp palms on my legs and manage a half-hearted smile, feeling a bit silly. We hear about our roles again, then watch a demo of the buttons that will light up on the control panel, which we must press at the proper time. I glance over at Dad and the kid to make sure they’re paying attention. I know I can trust Lowell not to screw up.
As the engineer, I get to put us into hyper-sleep. Cool. We can make up the sleep we lost last night thanks to the Turbo Toilets and noisy neighbors.
The voice continues, “You will spend three months of your journey asleep, and awake as you near Mars.” Hey, that much sleep ought to be good for a couple all-nighters at the Wilderness Lodge. We’ll go for a long ride around the lodge, then bed down our Stick Ponies at midnight at Whispering Canyon. By 3 AM we’ll be out in the hot tub singing theme songs from old Westerns.
“Three months will feel to you as if only seconds have passed,” CapCom advises.
Wow. The Time Dilation Effect in reverse! I wouldn’t want to do this often. I already complain enough, “Where has the time gone? Worse, we’ll wake up, and both Thanksgiving and Christmas will be over, and we won’t even get to enjoy them.
I glance over at Dad and the kid. They are both quiet now, probably a little apprehensive after reading all the warnings: For safety, you should be in good health and free from high blood pressure, heart, back, or neck problems, motion sickness, or other conditions that could be aggravated by this adventure. Although I have never been on Mission Space, I know what happens next. I should be still and let them find out on their own, but I can’t resist sharing my DIS board knowledge.
“Now the control panel will close in on us,” I say, just as the front wall with the control panel tilts toward us.
“Next the capsule will rotate upward for launch.” Which it does, on cue. I am an annoying ride spoiler. I know I should shut up. I always babble when I’m nervous. I hope the CM didn’t make a mistake. This had better be the “green capsule” and not the Maytag washer version.
I hear the roar of engines. We are hurtling upward with a clear view of the heavens. I feel speed and vibration, but we are not spinning, and everything is okay. Before long, CapCom breaks in and congratulates us on our successful launch.
Until the scheduled slingshot around the moon we should have a rather uneventful ride. Okay, time to break out the snacks and in-flight entertainment. What do they serve for snacks on flights to Mars? Mars bars? Milky Ways? I hope they don’t have any of those cheap little pretzels, peanuts, or Chex Mix. Imagine the mess that stuff could make floating around in zero gravity.
Sadly, CapCom doesn’t break in with information about snacks or drinks. There’s no movie or magazines, so it looks like my in-flight entertainment will consist of reading the instructions on the air sickness bags.
Traveling to the moon doesn’t take as long as I thought. We’re almost there already. I hope we’re not going too fast. Even if we are, I doubt we’ll get pulled over. It would be my luck, though, to be the first woman in space to get a ticket. Somehow I doubt my usual excuse that I’m hurrying because my gauge is low and I’m about to run out of fuel will work out here.
We slingshot around the moon and now it’s time for me to perform one of my functions as engineer. A light on the control panel glows yellow and I reach for the button. Nighty night, all. See you when we get to Mars.
I could swear I haven’t even closed my eyes when sirens shriek and CapCom comes back on, babbling something about a meteor shower. I feel cheated. I’m not the least bit rested. The Stick Ponies will have to wait for another night.
The view screen shows an alarming vista that would be enough to snap even the groggiest space traveler fully awake. We have become unwitting players in an intergalactic game of Meteor Dodge Ball. I don’t like sports. I’m as athletic as dryer lint. Good thing I’m only the engineer, and no one expects me to navigate the X-2 through the rocks careening toward us. Even so, our doom appears certain.
Against all odds we lurch and dive through the meteors hurtling around us. I watch with one eye only, the other closed tightly in terror. We are space martinis: shaken not stirred. No doubt my pedometer has recorded another 9,482 steps in the last ten seconds. There’s a bright side to everything, it seems.
How long can our luck hold?
And then I remember . . . we are The Lucky Fourteens. Masters of good weather. We never get high wind, snow, or persistent showers while on vacation. And isn’t this a meteor Shower? Begone, meteor shower! Don’t you know who we are?
We bank hard left, then right, in evasive maneuvers. In a moment we break through to open space. Friendly twinkling stars spread out across the heavens in greeting. I glance at Lowell, catch his eye, and smile. We did it!
The dad and his son will never know they survived the meteor shower thanks to us.
The Red Planet lies ahead and grows larger and larger in our view window as we approach. It appears at first that our journey has been successful, but wait . . . something is wrong. We’re coming in way too fast. We’re over-shooting the landing pad. Pull up! Pull up!
Things happen almost too quickly to describe. We fly erratically. Canyons rise up to meet us. Mission Control tells us to grab our control sticks and fly ourselves in. We thread our way between towering canyon walls, narrowly avoiding destruction with each maneuver. It doesn’t help that CapCom is barking instructions, like some annoying, intergalactic back seat driver, “Right! Left! Now right!”
Oh, shut up. We’re not blind.
I wrench on my stick until I fear it will break off in my hand. How did we get into this mess? I know Lowell and I followed our instructions to the letter, and I kept a wary eye on the boy during our trip and he did just fine. So it had to be Dad. Dad forgot to press one of his buttons and now we’re all going to die. Earlier he was gawking around, not paying attention. Yes, this is all his fault, I’m sure of it.
And then we come to a stop, teetering on the brink of a canyon and CapCom says something calm and reassuring like, “Don’t … move …a muscle.” I hold my breath. We’ll probably fall to the depths of the canyon and be smashed to bits.
In a moment, despite my misgivings, the X-2 settles down on solid ground and the ordeal is over.
The capsule door opens. Dad takes the kid by the arm and makes a beeline for the door.
Proof.
The man was too embarrassed to face us. He screwed up this mission, and he knows it. He only had two lousy buttons to press, and he blew it. Some people just can’t follow instructions. Bad enough to risk his own life, but what about us and the kid?
I almost regret saving his sorry butt from the meteor shower.
***************************
Next episode: we're off to try Test Track, Soarin and more rides that are new to us!
Trip report DISclaimer:
This report includes descriptions of simulators, spinning, enclosed dark spaces and loud noises, which could cause stress and heart palpitations for some readers. Others may experience uncontrollable fits of laughter. You should not read this report if sitting and reading for prolonged periods creates neck, back or eye pain. Avoid this trip report if you have short fingernails, hemorrhoids, sore ribs, or narcolepsy. The report should not be read by persons who find it painful to snort when they laugh, or who have a history of losing urine when snorting and laughing. Conversely, it should not be read by those with an impaired sense of humor, as this deficiency may later create writer’s block for the author, terminating further episodes of this report.
SERIOUSLY, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS ON THE MISSION SPACE RIDE, DO NOT READ THIS EPISODE!
Okay, for the rest of you, here we go . . .
Lowell and I enter the X-2. Wow! Look at all these buttons, controls, and view screens. It’s a pretty realistic space capsule. As if I am an expert on this. My credentials as a space capsule critic are somewhat limited. I have, however, watched every science fiction film from It Came from Outer Space to Apollo 13 to Star Gate. If that counts.
We move all the way to the right and slip into our seats. The dad takes the farthest seat on the left and the boy drops into the one next to me. I see why the ride warning mentions a fear of enclosed dark spaces. We’re packed in like four C cell batteries in a flashlight.
A shallow bin under the control panel has been provided to hold small items, and I debate what to do with my “wallet on a string.” I try stuffing it into the compartment, but it’s a bit too thick, so I keep it on the seat with me, partially wedged under one leg. Great. I’ve got a Lime Green Mickey Head Paint Chip stuck to the wallet to identify me as a member of the DIS. By the time we reach Mars, I’ll have a Mickey head imprint on my thigh. It could be worse.
I’m not sure what Lowell does with the camera, but neither of us thinks to take pictures in here, before or during the flight, which is a shame . . . the photos would have been out of this world.
The kid looks fascinated by the instrument panel and view screen and examines everything with an eight year old’s curiosity. His enthusiasm does not rub off on Dad. I think Dad and Mom drew straws for which one got to be stuffed into this four-seater tin can and catapulted into space, and Dad drew the short straw.
We spend a few seconds getting comfortably situated and looking around at everything. Lowell and I make small talk and I start to relax.
Until . . .
The capsule door closes. And locks. Ominously.
That’s when a disturbing thought occurs to me which I try unsuccessfully to chase away. What if a Cast Member screws up and puts people from the green line into a spinning capsule by mistake? How do I know this is the “tame version?”
A scenario plays out in my head. We launch. We start whirling about, faster and faster, plastered against our seats like four wet socks in the washer on spin cycle. I scream, “Stop spinning us! We’re Green!” Yes, green, in more ways than one and getting greener by the moment.
But there is only silence.
And more spinning.
I have heard that extreme G forces distort a person’s face. A few more minutes of this and my eyes will be on the sides of my head like a fish and my lips will be somewhere under my chin. I’ll look like a Mr. Potato Head with all the parts scrambled.
A video camera inside our capsule is trained on us, with people at the other end clustered about a monitor, watching our plight, their pale faces registering their mistake.
Mission Control comes on the radio, sounding grim. “Buck up, Green Team, we can’t abort the launch now. Try not to panic.”
I panic. I press every button on my control panel. Nothing! Must be defective.
Then I reach over and start pressing buttons on the kid’s panel next to me. He tries to stop me, but I dodge his hand and keep jabbing his buttons as he tries to swat me. Desperation makes me too fast for him. One of these controls has got to turn us around.
“Hey lady!” the kid cries. “Cut it out!”
I stab the last button, unwilling to give up hope until I’ve tried every one. The kid gives my arm a vicious pinch and I jerk my hand away.
CapCom’s voice crackles over our speaker, “By the way, Green Team, don’t touch any controls. Repeat, do NOT touch the controls. Pressing the wrong buttons could be fatal.”
About then, I really DO hear the voice of CapCom which snaps me out of my nightmare. I rub damp palms on my legs and manage a half-hearted smile, feeling a bit silly. We hear about our roles again, then watch a demo of the buttons that will light up on the control panel, which we must press at the proper time. I glance over at Dad and the kid to make sure they’re paying attention. I know I can trust Lowell not to screw up.
As the engineer, I get to put us into hyper-sleep. Cool. We can make up the sleep we lost last night thanks to the Turbo Toilets and noisy neighbors.
The voice continues, “You will spend three months of your journey asleep, and awake as you near Mars.” Hey, that much sleep ought to be good for a couple all-nighters at the Wilderness Lodge. We’ll go for a long ride around the lodge, then bed down our Stick Ponies at midnight at Whispering Canyon. By 3 AM we’ll be out in the hot tub singing theme songs from old Westerns.
“Three months will feel to you as if only seconds have passed,” CapCom advises.
Wow. The Time Dilation Effect in reverse! I wouldn’t want to do this often. I already complain enough, “Where has the time gone? Worse, we’ll wake up, and both Thanksgiving and Christmas will be over, and we won’t even get to enjoy them.
I glance over at Dad and the kid. They are both quiet now, probably a little apprehensive after reading all the warnings: For safety, you should be in good health and free from high blood pressure, heart, back, or neck problems, motion sickness, or other conditions that could be aggravated by this adventure. Although I have never been on Mission Space, I know what happens next. I should be still and let them find out on their own, but I can’t resist sharing my DIS board knowledge.
“Now the control panel will close in on us,” I say, just as the front wall with the control panel tilts toward us.
“Next the capsule will rotate upward for launch.” Which it does, on cue. I am an annoying ride spoiler. I know I should shut up. I always babble when I’m nervous. I hope the CM didn’t make a mistake. This had better be the “green capsule” and not the Maytag washer version.
I hear the roar of engines. We are hurtling upward with a clear view of the heavens. I feel speed and vibration, but we are not spinning, and everything is okay. Before long, CapCom breaks in and congratulates us on our successful launch.
Until the scheduled slingshot around the moon we should have a rather uneventful ride. Okay, time to break out the snacks and in-flight entertainment. What do they serve for snacks on flights to Mars? Mars bars? Milky Ways? I hope they don’t have any of those cheap little pretzels, peanuts, or Chex Mix. Imagine the mess that stuff could make floating around in zero gravity.
Sadly, CapCom doesn’t break in with information about snacks or drinks. There’s no movie or magazines, so it looks like my in-flight entertainment will consist of reading the instructions on the air sickness bags.
Traveling to the moon doesn’t take as long as I thought. We’re almost there already. I hope we’re not going too fast. Even if we are, I doubt we’ll get pulled over. It would be my luck, though, to be the first woman in space to get a ticket. Somehow I doubt my usual excuse that I’m hurrying because my gauge is low and I’m about to run out of fuel will work out here.
We slingshot around the moon and now it’s time for me to perform one of my functions as engineer. A light on the control panel glows yellow and I reach for the button. Nighty night, all. See you when we get to Mars.
I could swear I haven’t even closed my eyes when sirens shriek and CapCom comes back on, babbling something about a meteor shower. I feel cheated. I’m not the least bit rested. The Stick Ponies will have to wait for another night.
The view screen shows an alarming vista that would be enough to snap even the groggiest space traveler fully awake. We have become unwitting players in an intergalactic game of Meteor Dodge Ball. I don’t like sports. I’m as athletic as dryer lint. Good thing I’m only the engineer, and no one expects me to navigate the X-2 through the rocks careening toward us. Even so, our doom appears certain.
Against all odds we lurch and dive through the meteors hurtling around us. I watch with one eye only, the other closed tightly in terror. We are space martinis: shaken not stirred. No doubt my pedometer has recorded another 9,482 steps in the last ten seconds. There’s a bright side to everything, it seems.
How long can our luck hold?
And then I remember . . . we are The Lucky Fourteens. Masters of good weather. We never get high wind, snow, or persistent showers while on vacation. And isn’t this a meteor Shower? Begone, meteor shower! Don’t you know who we are?
We bank hard left, then right, in evasive maneuvers. In a moment we break through to open space. Friendly twinkling stars spread out across the heavens in greeting. I glance at Lowell, catch his eye, and smile. We did it!
The dad and his son will never know they survived the meteor shower thanks to us.
The Red Planet lies ahead and grows larger and larger in our view window as we approach. It appears at first that our journey has been successful, but wait . . . something is wrong. We’re coming in way too fast. We’re over-shooting the landing pad. Pull up! Pull up!
Things happen almost too quickly to describe. We fly erratically. Canyons rise up to meet us. Mission Control tells us to grab our control sticks and fly ourselves in. We thread our way between towering canyon walls, narrowly avoiding destruction with each maneuver. It doesn’t help that CapCom is barking instructions, like some annoying, intergalactic back seat driver, “Right! Left! Now right!”
Oh, shut up. We’re not blind.
I wrench on my stick until I fear it will break off in my hand. How did we get into this mess? I know Lowell and I followed our instructions to the letter, and I kept a wary eye on the boy during our trip and he did just fine. So it had to be Dad. Dad forgot to press one of his buttons and now we’re all going to die. Earlier he was gawking around, not paying attention. Yes, this is all his fault, I’m sure of it.
And then we come to a stop, teetering on the brink of a canyon and CapCom says something calm and reassuring like, “Don’t … move …a muscle.” I hold my breath. We’ll probably fall to the depths of the canyon and be smashed to bits.
In a moment, despite my misgivings, the X-2 settles down on solid ground and the ordeal is over.
The capsule door opens. Dad takes the kid by the arm and makes a beeline for the door.
Proof.
The man was too embarrassed to face us. He screwed up this mission, and he knows it. He only had two lousy buttons to press, and he blew it. Some people just can’t follow instructions. Bad enough to risk his own life, but what about us and the kid?
I almost regret saving his sorry butt from the meteor shower.
***************************
Next episode: we're off to try Test Track, Soarin and more rides that are new to us!
KangaFan
Hoping to someday be as patient as Kanga
- Joined
- Nov 20, 2006
- Messages
- 687
Too funny! Love the thought of the parents flipping a coin--you're probably right. Thanks also for the detailed description of Mission Space. Do you normally get motion sickness? I do with things that "spin"--no tea cups for me, but I would love to try this if the green side is motion sickness friendly.
Kay7979
FANTASY NOVEL AUTHOR
- Joined
- Jul 14, 2004
- Messages
- 2,196
KangaFan said:Too funny! Love the thought of the parents flipping a coin--you're probably right. Thanks also for the detailed description of Mission Space. Do you normally get motion sickness? I do with things that "spin"--no tea cups for me, but I would love to try this if the green side is motion sickness friendly.
I'm like you. No tea cup type rides for me. You should be absolutely fine on this ride. It is less intense than Body Wars, Star Tours, or typical simulator rides. Lowell has problems with rides where you're watching a screen and it feels like you're going very fast, or making sharp, banked turns, but Mission Space didn't bother him at all, and he was fine with Soarin,' too.
dizneydonna
Earning My Ears
- Joined
- Sep 18, 2006
- Messages
- 28
You're too good! I'm loving this so much. I'm laughing out loud and my son wants to know...."What in the world is sooooo funny, Mommy?" All I can say is "This lady on the Disboards is a RIOT!". He still has no idea what I'm talking about; bless his little heart. This whole segment was fantastic. My favorite part though was the guilty Dad that almost killed you all. I can just see his reddened face staring down at the ground, as he high-tails it out of there fast! You and Lowell standing behind, shaking your heads and wondering why you "saved his sorry butt from the meteor shower in the first place". Too good......no......too GREAT!
Please don't make me wait too long for the next one........
In the meantime, I'm off to make Christmas cookies with my boy! Only about half of the dough makes it into the oven........if you know what I mean! YES, we're dough-eaters for cryin' out loud!!
swankybeth
<font color=teal>Loves bubble tea!<br><font color=
- Joined
- Aug 1, 2000
- Messages
- 3,098
Your report is great, I'm laughing out loud at so many of the parts! 
Kay7979
FANTASY NOVEL AUTHOR
- Joined
- Jul 14, 2004
- Messages
- 2,196
ddgckg Dana: Looking back over the report I see I missed thanking you for writing and letting me know you were enjoying my report, so thanks! I hope you're still reading. Kathymc: Welcome. I appreciate the kind words so much. dizneydonna: Thanks again for the glowing praise. I hope your cookies turned out great. I'm a dough-eater and Lowell is a beater-licker! My mom used to make one kind of cookies that I actually preferred the unbaked dough. She used to bring me a container of dough for a Christmas present! swankybeth: I'm always delighted to see another new reader onboard. Thanks for saying that the reports make you laugh out loud. I strive for that! Maine-iac. I appreciate the feedback and knowing you're still reading every episode as I post them. I know you'll have a great time on your trip.Another brilliant installment! Space martinis, love it! Thanks to your report, I will definitely give the green version a try on the next trip. On our last trip, my DH and DD10 went on the regular Mission Space (ie scary version) 4 (yes, four) times in a row because there wasn't a line. They're not normal I tell ya! I just can't do spinning rides. Anything else I'm fine with. Tower of Terror, no problem. Teacups, no way.
Can't wait to read more.
Can't wait to read more.
Kay7979
FANTASY NOVEL AUTHOR
- Joined
- Jul 14, 2004
- Messages
- 2,196
SunKat said:Another brilliant installment! Space martinis, love it! Thanks to your report, I will definitely give the green version a try on the next trip. I just can't do spinning rides. Anything else I'm fine with. Tower of Terror, no problem. Teacups, no way.
Can't wait to read more.
Thanks for the kind words. I'm glad this report has given a few people the necessary confidence to try the "green" version of the ride. Based on your comments that motion in general is not a problem, just spinning, you'll be fine on Mission Space. I'm really glad we tried it.
TigerKat
DIS Legend
- Joined
- Apr 29, 2006
- Messages
- 39,771
Kay - you are amazing. I read a post of yours on another thread and came here to read this. I've spent all afternoon reading your trip report, it's hysterical. I've never read a trip report before yours and I know I'm definitely spoiled now. Can't wait for more!! 
Kay7979
FANTASY NOVEL AUTHOR
- Joined
- Jul 14, 2004
- Messages
- 2,196
PART NINE:
Trip Report DISclaimer: Yes, we really enjoyed this ride, despite my poking fun at it in this report.
There are a lot of cool things to see as you move through the Test Track ride queue and head for the vehicle boarding area. Too bad I didn’t see any of them. No time to stop and look at machinery or smashed cars. No time for pictures, either, so forgive me for not including any photos in this episode. We’ve got to move, move, move. The timer is ticking in our heads, counting down to Epcot’s normal 9:00 opening hour.
The only thing that makes an impression on me as we race through the empty queue is a row of crash test dummies. That’s because I recognize my ex in the line up. Okay, it has been quite a few years, so maybe I’m mistaken and it isn’t him, but the resemblance is uncanny. In many ways. He had as much personality and wit, and an equally hard head.
Lowell takes my hand and pulls me. There are six or eight people ahead of us, within sight. We are gaining on them. Why oh why did I bring new shoes to Disney World? When I bought them they were oh soooooo comfortable that I assumed they wouldn’t give me blisters. Silly me. After walking all over Downtown Disney, the oh so comfortable shoes betrayed my misplaced confidence. I developed sore spots that threatened to make me miserable, so today I put on a pair of well worn sandals instead. Much better. Except I haven’t worn these sandals in a year or two, so now a new set of sore spots are forming. How dumb can I be? Note to self: next time just wear my scruffy old sneakers and never mind what they look like.
Lowell and I catch up to the people at the end of the line. The small group ahead of us will fit into three or four cars. We won’t need to wait long for our turn.
We have never ridden Test Track, but I know the general premise. We will be riding through hazardous real life road conditions, testing the handling and endurance of the vehicle.
I spot the sign with the ride warnings. It’s the usual disclaimer about being in good health, with no neck or back injuries, yada yada yada. Are they kidding me? Throw your worst at us, Disney, I laugh at your puny road hazards! We live in Western NY. We drive test track conditions most of the year. In town, snow plows don’t scrape the streets bare for fear of hitting a manhole cover. If their blade catches the rim, will the cover go whirling off like a hundred pound Frizbee, smashing through someone’s window? Or are they worried that hitting a cover will make the snow plow flip end over end?
Just like postal mail carriers, we accept that it is our lot in life to travel through rain and snow and gloom of night. Test Track, indeed! I shake my head in amusement as I watch the next carload squeal their tires and drive away. They ought to see what we deal with on a regular basis.
In a few moments, it’s our turn to ride. We score the front seat. Hurray! We don’t have to look at the back of peoples’ heads the whole way. Three people climb in behind us, who get to look at the back of our heads, and we lurch away to experience the dubious perils of Disney’s Test Track.
I am not sure if we squeal tires, because all I can hear is the engine revving as we roar up a steep hill. Well, this is fairly impressive, but to make it a sporting test, like at home, they need to spray water on top of the hill, then freeze it to see what happens when we reach the top and hit invisible “black ice.” To double the stakes, the car ahead should be stalled in the middle of the road, so we need to steer while skidding to avoid it.
We round a bend and drive over a stretch of bumps in the road. These are supposed to test our suspension and handling. Ha! You call that uneven pavement? Try riding with us in January. After the road crews come through it feels like they paved the entire street with corn cobs. And those are the GOOD streets. Outside of town, you may be on a clear stretch of road, then round a bend and find two foot drifts half way across the road. You can either swerve if no one is coming or smash your way through.
In spring, we get pot holes big enough to lose a car into. Seriously. After a heavy rain I’ve seen beach chairs and umbrella tables set up around some of the better ones.
The man controlling our test sequence announces that he will navigate our car around some cones, then test the brakes with and without anti-lock technology. Okay, buddy, go for it. Make my day.
We lurch through semi-darkness, whipping left, right, left through a series of cones. I brace myself for the brake test. I picture a diving stop, like when I’m eating a burger, tuning the radio, talking to Lowell and reading my upside down map only to look up and see brake lights six feet ahead. I figure maybe we’ll fishtail, or do a donut.
But noooooooo. I think the announcer guy had to pee and handed over our car to a little old lady. She doesn’t slam on the brakes. She glides us in for a calm, controlled stop. No burning rubber, squealing brakes, nothing. Bummer. And that was WITHOUT the benefit of anti-lock breaks. Lowell and I yawn.
We come to a series of large rooms. The first room, the heat room, is pretty impressive. I think I got a tan on the way through.
Next is the cold room. It’s supposed to be intense, bone numbing cold. Forget about it! If your nose hairs aren’t frozen, it isn’t cold. If you aren’t breathing in shards of ice with every breath, it’s not cold. Don’t tell Lowell and me about cold.
In the next room they spray us with corrosives. I hold my breath through that one. When we get to the other side of the room my tan takes on a lovely green patina, like the copper roof on City Hall.
Now we speed up. A lot. Must be the announcer guy is back from the men’s room and the little old lady left for a hot cup of tea. Things promise to get interesting.
We hurtle through some hairpin turns. Our headlights reflect off the guardrails as we screech around each bend. We have roads like this at home. Some of them are paved.
And guardrails are for sissies.
We roll to a stop before beginning the barrier test, and after catching our breath we accelerate hard toward the end of the building where a solid wall blocks our way. At the last moment double doors swing open and we burst through. Sunlight blinds me and the cool morning wind slaps my face. My hair is flying. Now this is more like it! Speed thrills, baby. We bank hard through the first turn. Hair whips across my face blinding me. I rake it from my eyes but it’s a losing battle. This is the best part of the ride and I want to see the road. I think I’m shouting Yaaa-Hoo! But maybe it’s only the wind in my ears. We hurtle through another turn.
Okay, so this is good, but it’s still not a fair test. They need to toss a couple woodchucks into the road. If we make it around the woodchucks without hitting the wall, we pass the first test. Next, after a couple more sharp turns, send the deer out. Three deer, actually, because there’s never just one.
I love realism.
But there are no woodchucks. No deer. Not even a skunk.
I look at Lowell. He smiles and shrugs, clearly having fun, yet unimpressed by this supposedly tortuous test of driving conditions. We read each others minds and exchange conspiratorial smiles.
The riders behind us in our car are talking and laughing as our vehicle returns to the building and rolls forward toward the unloading area. Lowell and I sit limply in the front seat, eyes shut, heads drooping down to our chests, mouths slack in slumber. The sudden lack of movement when our car stops to unload is our cue to wake. We snort and jolt awake, look groggily about, as the announcement comes on telling us to exit our car. We yawn and stretch, then stumble out of the car. A cast member gives us a strange look, then waves the next group of riders toward our vehicle. A new set of participants will now experience the rigors of Test Track.
We don’t have time to ride Test Track again, but it was sort of fun.
We’ll try it again.
Once we round up a couple woodchucks.
Trip Report DISclaimer: Yes, we really enjoyed this ride, despite my poking fun at it in this report.
There are a lot of cool things to see as you move through the Test Track ride queue and head for the vehicle boarding area. Too bad I didn’t see any of them. No time to stop and look at machinery or smashed cars. No time for pictures, either, so forgive me for not including any photos in this episode. We’ve got to move, move, move. The timer is ticking in our heads, counting down to Epcot’s normal 9:00 opening hour.
The only thing that makes an impression on me as we race through the empty queue is a row of crash test dummies. That’s because I recognize my ex in the line up. Okay, it has been quite a few years, so maybe I’m mistaken and it isn’t him, but the resemblance is uncanny. In many ways. He had as much personality and wit, and an equally hard head.
Lowell takes my hand and pulls me. There are six or eight people ahead of us, within sight. We are gaining on them. Why oh why did I bring new shoes to Disney World? When I bought them they were oh soooooo comfortable that I assumed they wouldn’t give me blisters. Silly me. After walking all over Downtown Disney, the oh so comfortable shoes betrayed my misplaced confidence. I developed sore spots that threatened to make me miserable, so today I put on a pair of well worn sandals instead. Much better. Except I haven’t worn these sandals in a year or two, so now a new set of sore spots are forming. How dumb can I be? Note to self: next time just wear my scruffy old sneakers and never mind what they look like.
Lowell and I catch up to the people at the end of the line. The small group ahead of us will fit into three or four cars. We won’t need to wait long for our turn.
We have never ridden Test Track, but I know the general premise. We will be riding through hazardous real life road conditions, testing the handling and endurance of the vehicle.
I spot the sign with the ride warnings. It’s the usual disclaimer about being in good health, with no neck or back injuries, yada yada yada. Are they kidding me? Throw your worst at us, Disney, I laugh at your puny road hazards! We live in Western NY. We drive test track conditions most of the year. In town, snow plows don’t scrape the streets bare for fear of hitting a manhole cover. If their blade catches the rim, will the cover go whirling off like a hundred pound Frizbee, smashing through someone’s window? Or are they worried that hitting a cover will make the snow plow flip end over end?
Just like postal mail carriers, we accept that it is our lot in life to travel through rain and snow and gloom of night. Test Track, indeed! I shake my head in amusement as I watch the next carload squeal their tires and drive away. They ought to see what we deal with on a regular basis.
In a few moments, it’s our turn to ride. We score the front seat. Hurray! We don’t have to look at the back of peoples’ heads the whole way. Three people climb in behind us, who get to look at the back of our heads, and we lurch away to experience the dubious perils of Disney’s Test Track.
I am not sure if we squeal tires, because all I can hear is the engine revving as we roar up a steep hill. Well, this is fairly impressive, but to make it a sporting test, like at home, they need to spray water on top of the hill, then freeze it to see what happens when we reach the top and hit invisible “black ice.” To double the stakes, the car ahead should be stalled in the middle of the road, so we need to steer while skidding to avoid it.
We round a bend and drive over a stretch of bumps in the road. These are supposed to test our suspension and handling. Ha! You call that uneven pavement? Try riding with us in January. After the road crews come through it feels like they paved the entire street with corn cobs. And those are the GOOD streets. Outside of town, you may be on a clear stretch of road, then round a bend and find two foot drifts half way across the road. You can either swerve if no one is coming or smash your way through.
In spring, we get pot holes big enough to lose a car into. Seriously. After a heavy rain I’ve seen beach chairs and umbrella tables set up around some of the better ones.
The man controlling our test sequence announces that he will navigate our car around some cones, then test the brakes with and without anti-lock technology. Okay, buddy, go for it. Make my day.
We lurch through semi-darkness, whipping left, right, left through a series of cones. I brace myself for the brake test. I picture a diving stop, like when I’m eating a burger, tuning the radio, talking to Lowell and reading my upside down map only to look up and see brake lights six feet ahead. I figure maybe we’ll fishtail, or do a donut.
But noooooooo. I think the announcer guy had to pee and handed over our car to a little old lady. She doesn’t slam on the brakes. She glides us in for a calm, controlled stop. No burning rubber, squealing brakes, nothing. Bummer. And that was WITHOUT the benefit of anti-lock breaks. Lowell and I yawn.
We come to a series of large rooms. The first room, the heat room, is pretty impressive. I think I got a tan on the way through.
Next is the cold room. It’s supposed to be intense, bone numbing cold. Forget about it! If your nose hairs aren’t frozen, it isn’t cold. If you aren’t breathing in shards of ice with every breath, it’s not cold. Don’t tell Lowell and me about cold.
In the next room they spray us with corrosives. I hold my breath through that one. When we get to the other side of the room my tan takes on a lovely green patina, like the copper roof on City Hall.
Now we speed up. A lot. Must be the announcer guy is back from the men’s room and the little old lady left for a hot cup of tea. Things promise to get interesting.
We hurtle through some hairpin turns. Our headlights reflect off the guardrails as we screech around each bend. We have roads like this at home. Some of them are paved.
And guardrails are for sissies.
We roll to a stop before beginning the barrier test, and after catching our breath we accelerate hard toward the end of the building where a solid wall blocks our way. At the last moment double doors swing open and we burst through. Sunlight blinds me and the cool morning wind slaps my face. My hair is flying. Now this is more like it! Speed thrills, baby. We bank hard through the first turn. Hair whips across my face blinding me. I rake it from my eyes but it’s a losing battle. This is the best part of the ride and I want to see the road. I think I’m shouting Yaaa-Hoo! But maybe it’s only the wind in my ears. We hurtle through another turn.
Okay, so this is good, but it’s still not a fair test. They need to toss a couple woodchucks into the road. If we make it around the woodchucks without hitting the wall, we pass the first test. Next, after a couple more sharp turns, send the deer out. Three deer, actually, because there’s never just one.
I love realism.
But there are no woodchucks. No deer. Not even a skunk.
I look at Lowell. He smiles and shrugs, clearly having fun, yet unimpressed by this supposedly tortuous test of driving conditions. We read each others minds and exchange conspiratorial smiles.
The riders behind us in our car are talking and laughing as our vehicle returns to the building and rolls forward toward the unloading area. Lowell and I sit limply in the front seat, eyes shut, heads drooping down to our chests, mouths slack in slumber. The sudden lack of movement when our car stops to unload is our cue to wake. We snort and jolt awake, look groggily about, as the announcement comes on telling us to exit our car. We yawn and stretch, then stumble out of the car. A cast member gives us a strange look, then waves the next group of riders toward our vehicle. A new set of participants will now experience the rigors of Test Track.
We don’t have time to ride Test Track again, but it was sort of fun.
We’ll try it again.
Once we round up a couple woodchucks.
Kay7979
FANTASY NOVEL AUTHOR
- Joined
- Jul 14, 2004
- Messages
- 2,196
Kay - you are amazing. I read a post of yours on another thread and came here to read this. I've spent all afternoon reading your trip report, it's hysterical. I've never read a trip report before yours and I know I'm definitely spoiled now. Can't wait for more!!
Thanks so much. I think I know the post you are referring to. I'm going to add that post to my trip report. It will be a rerun for you, but I think others who didn't see it will enjoy the chuckle.
Kay7979
FANTASY NOVEL AUTHOR
- Joined
- Jul 14, 2004
- Messages
- 2,196
I'm glad you enjoyed the report. Yes, Test Track is fun, especially going fast around those tightly banked turns. My next installment will feature Soarin'.
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