PART THIRTY:
Yee Haw! Were finally inside and about to experience the famous Hoop-De-Doo Revue. Were among the first people inside the dining hall, so I snap a quick picture while people come in and find their tables.
The food for the show is a set menu, but we have a list of drink selections. Drinks are included with dinner. The choices of beers and wines, however, are very limited. Due to the time constraints of holding more than one show each evening, Hoop-De-Doo Revue must pack a whole lot of eatin, drinkin, hootin, and hollerin into a brief period of time, so the show gets underway while everyone orders drinks. The dining room and stage become a noisy whirl of activity. When our waitress arrives to take our drink order, I ask for Chardonnay and Lowell orders Sangria. She whisks away and I take a better look around Pioneer Hall.
Most of the round tables hold large groups. We have a table for two. I glance up at the balcony. Its as packed as the main floor, and I feel sorry for the people who have their backs to the action. Disney should only seat mothers up there because all mothers have eyes in the backs of their heads, therefore they can watch the show while they eat. Everyone else facing away from the stage is out of luck. By the time they eat and turn their chairs around to watch the show, it will be over.
Our wine arrives and I take a sip. I wouldnt want a photo of my expression. Yesterday we were at the Food & Wine Festival sipping fine wines from around the world, so my taste buds are expecting something similar. What a shock. This stuff is varnish stripper in comparison, but at least its free varnish stripper. I warn Lowell not to spill any on the table. It would eat off the finish, bore straight through the table, spill onto the floor, and moments later our table would crash through into the basement. Wed be sitting around a hole in the floor trying to balance a plate of chicken and ribs on one knee. Worse, if our Chardonnay and Sangria spilled and mingled together, the ensuing explosion would take out half of Pioneer Hall.
I hope my digestive acids are a match for this stuff.
Salad comes next, then corn bread, baked beans, fried chicken, ribs and corn on the cob. The waitress announces the contents of the tin pails as she sets them down. At least I think thats what shes saying because I can barely hear her over the noise. The tin pails are cute but I hope they dont represent HDDR slopping the hogs. We may eat like pigs but I dont want hog slop for dinner. For what we paid, the meal had better be tasty if not gourmet.
Were not used to the family style serving method, and Im distracted by the show already in progress, but I manage to spear a piece of chicken and a rib from the pails and fill my plate with a little of everything while watching the stage. The meal has two other benefits: I dont need to share food off my plate with Lowell since he has exactly the same thing, and I can forget my evil get your elbows off the table look, because no one here cares. In fact, just to be a good sport, I put my elbows on the table, too.
The ribs are good, although Ive had better, and the chicken passes with even higher marks. We have far more than we can possibly eat. The nerve deadening effect of the wine and the distraction of the performers goes a long way toward making the food seem better than it really is. No wonder Disney includes all the beer and wine you can drink. Without it, the reviews of Hoop-De-Doo might be less enthusiastic.
The performers wear colorful period clothing and portray equally colorful characters, but their jokes are all predictable clichéd gags from old TV shows like Hee-Haw. If youve been to a live performance of country comedy at any venue like Branson Missouri or Gatlinburg Tennessee youll see the same kind of gags. We laugh along with the crowd because the jokes are so corny and predictable. Anyone who finds the humor fresh, original, and oh so funny is either very easily amused or doesnt get out much.
Or theyve had way more wine and beer than is good for them.
On the bright side, the Hoop-De-Doo theme song is bouncy and cheerful and sticks in your head. And they play it a lot. Hmmm. Maybe thats not such a good thing. It may be another Disney mind control song. Im plagued by the nagging suspicion that the mind control song, in addition to the wine, may explain why this show seems funnier and more entertaining the longer I watch it.
Midway through our meal the performers cross the stage and head for the steps that lead down into the dining room.
No doubt they will sing a couple songs while trying to stir up the crowd. Since were on the aisle by the stage, the performers come directly toward us. I could reach out with my greasy fingers and grab them if I want to. I settle for photos instead. This woman has a lantern to shed extra light on the audience, and I think shes out looking for trouble.
One singer/actress, the redhead with the braids, pauses by the table next to us and sings directly to an older gentleman. Next thing I know shes on his lap. I cant see his face to gauge his reaction but I assume hes grinning. All I can see is the womans back.
To my way of thinking, this is the musical show equivalent of being offered a seat on the bus. Lets face it, the performers always pick some harmless elderly man who barely remembers why having a woman plastered all over him was once appealing. The mans wife, if shes still living, is so old she doesnt remember why she should be jealous. So its all good. No problem. The singer never picks some handsome thirty year old guy who looks like a body builder and is a natural babe magnet. I guess management figures a guy like that has a jealous wife who might not find it amusing. I double dog dare them to pick a young guy some day just to see if the wife and the singer get into a barbecued-rib-slinging cat fight. I want to watch them wrestle each other to the floor smearing barbecue sauce and baked beans in each others hair and pistol whipping each other with corn cobs. Now, THAT would be a show!
The singer eventually moves on, and she and the other performers take a few hostages, er uh volunteers, back to the stage for some heavy-duty audience participation. This is always the best part of any show. Lowell and I get another glass of varnish stripper, because its free, and because we can. Not very bright, are we? I figure it ought to cut through the chicken grease and aid our digestion, plus it may neutralize the baked beans. Otherwise one of us may be sleeping outside on the ledge tonight.
The volunteers jump into their assigned roles and ham it up, winning cheers from the audience.
The show continues with more singing and slapstick humor. People twirl their napkins as they get into the spirit of the show and they all seem to be enjoying themselves and having a good time. We twirl our napkins, too, which serves the dual purpose of improving air circulation while drying blots of chicken grease and spilled barbecue sauce. Corn kernels go flying and land in the womans hair at the next table, but no one seems to notice.
The waitresses hand out washboards, which you play with your spoons. Lowell finds this an interesting novelty. He plays a pretty mean washboard if I do say so. Pardon the photo of him with chicken grease coating his chin. And see his Civil War glasses?
Since we tend to be competitive, Lowell gets into a serious rendition of dueling washboards with the people at the next table. I join in, increasing the noise level and contributing to the mayhem. Our washboard really gets a workout. We played it so hard we knocked it out of tune.
The best part of the meal has to be dessert. Lowell is noted for his sweet tooth but Im nearly as bad. I made sure I didnt eat too much chicken and ribs because I wanted to save room. Even so, Im pretty full. Theres no time for the main course to digest because we have to race through our meal and be out of here in time for the crew to set up for the next performance.
Guess whats for dessert? Ill give you a big clue.
The waitresses become part of the show and move through the audience singing and dispersing strawberry shortcakes. I have a dreadful confession to make. Remember I said were not used to family style serving? The waitress sets down the round tin pan of shortcake and I think I hear the word share, but it doesnt compute because my brain is clogged with chicken grease, addled by varnish stripper, and muddled from the din of the washboards. The word share rolls idly around in my skull for a moment and the conclusion I come to is that we need to share because the waitress temporarily ran out of shortcake. Shell probably be back in a minute with more. As for Lowell, he probably didnt hear her, and any dessert placed within ten feet of him is instantly appropriated. So the pan disappears from view before I get a good look at it, and Lowell digs in. I turn my attention back to the show. A few minutes later the waitress comes by, so I ask if there is a shortcake coming for me. She says, You probably didnt hear me over the noise, but I said the shortcake was for you to share.
And then it finally computes. Right. This is family style. All food was served in large containers to be passed and shared. The shortcake was no different. As this revelation seeps through my haze of chicken grease and varnish stripper, the waitress says, I can get you your own shortcake, and off she goes to return a moment later with a pan of shortcake that dwarfs my mammoth trifle from the Grand Floridian Tea. This sucker is the size of a personal pan pizza. And its all for me. If I eat most of it Ill be a glutton. If I eat only a few bites Ill be a wasteful ingrate. What a dilemma.
Go ahead and guess which way this plays out.
Youre right. Wize guys.
As amazing as it sounds, I manage to eat 2/3 of it. I have no idea how. I am more than full. The needle is over the full line and nearly off the gauge.
One benefit of eating so much is that any remaining alcohol in my stomach has been absorbed by strawberry shortcake. The strawberries may be down there singing and whooping it up in an alcohol induced haze, but my head is 100% clear.
The show winds down. The audience is in an agreeable mood, and this is the perfect time for Cast Members to come around with our photos. I had forgotten all about the photos by now. A CM stops at our table and holds ours up, but I dont even bother to look since I know we wont buy it. The room is still noisy so I dont hear the price until Lowell repeats it loudly in his, Youve got to be kidding me, tone and launches into a lecture about the actual cost of producing this photo, and the evils of price gouging. The Cast Member escapes to another table.
The hall is clearing out as I hoist myself from the table. Lowell hooks his belt onto my jeans and tows me toward the door. Thank goodness for flat shoes because I could never waddle down to the boat dock in heels.
Im glad we wore sweatshirts because the air has gotten rather chilly. We walk as quickly as we can, hoping to catch the next boat back to the Lodge.
We find a long line at the dock but when the boat arrives we all fit onboard. Most of the people with us have just come from Hoop-De-Doo and their comments are generally favorable. I agree that we had an enjoyable evening. The food was good; the entertainment was, well, entertaining. While the show was a bit trite and uninspired it was good, clean, family fun. Kids like it because the jokes are new to them, and they love silly, slapstick humor. Hoop-De-Doo Revue is worth seeing at least once but in my opinion it doesnt merit rave reviews, and I find it hard to believe that anyone could be impressed enough to go every trip.
By the time we pull up to the Lodge its almost time for the Electrical Water Pageant. Our timing is excellent. Several families have gathered to watch and we join the group, scanning the lake for any sign of parade barges. In a few minutes we hear music, and suddenly the barges appear. Apparently until now they had been cruising without lights. The barges carry 25 foot tall screens of lights, featuring images of King Triton and creatures from under the sea, such as turtles, leaping dolphins, seahorses, and even a very long sea serpent. Its a delightful little show and I try my best to zoom in and take pictures, but there isnt enough light for this camera and the zoom makes it worse. When the music changes to God Bless America, the display of lights transforms into stars and flags. I abandon the zoom setting and manage to get a picture although its not very good.
When the music ends and the lights go out on the barges, were ready to head back to our room. It has been a very pleasant day. A nearly perfect day. And tomorrow morning were going to have Tonga Toast! Hurray!
The building and grounds look beautiful at night. I almost hate to go inside. We walk past the pool and creek slowly, enjoying the view. Once inside the lobby, we sit for a few minutes in rockers by the fireplace, and relax while reflecting on our trip. The dinner crowd at Wilderness Downs is still whooping it up. One Cast Members calls out, Do you want to see the birthday girl ride a stick pony around the room? Or do you want to see Grandma ride it?
The room breaks into chants of Grandma! Grandma! Grandma!
I catch Lowells eye and smile. Grandma is doomed.
I wonder as we walk toward the elevators if well be able to hear much of this noise in our room. We slide our key card into the door and enter, finding the room neatly prepared as before with turndown service. The brass dollar coins I left as a tip on our pillows are gone. The gold coins seemed more appropriate to the resorts theme than paper money.
I can still hear noise from the restaurant. Its not too loud, but some people might be bothered by it. I have read reviews by people who stayed in lobby rooms who claimed they couldnt hear any noise from Whispering Canyon. I find that hard to believe. Of course we are nearly overhead, but with this multi-floor open lobby, it seems unlikely that any of the lobby rooms would be soundproof.
We flip on the plasma TV and watch the end of a movie. By the time were tired enough to sleep, the noise below has stopped. I get ready for bed still anticipating our trip to the Poly tomorrow. Its going to be another wonderful day.
We fall into bed, tired and content, but after a half hour Im still awake, which is not normal for me. I dont feel quite right. The feeling is somewhat hard to define since Im not nauseous, but my stomach and abdomen feel strange. I get up to use the bathroom and when I come back Lowell is awake. He feels a little odd, too, but not to the extent I do. Hes had gall bladder problems and kidney stones, so I always worry that something he eats or drinks on vacation will set off one problem or the other, but
I virtually never get sick. At the moment, Im more worried that whatever I have might hit him, too.
Every fifteen or twenty minutes I head to the bathroom again. Fortunately Lowell sleeps through these subsequent trips. Im afraid my illness may get worse and turn into a stomach problem as well, but so far Im not nauseous even though my stomach feels strange. I probably have myself to blame, considering I drank two glasses of varnish stripper, ate a sizeable dinner of greasy foods, then stuffed myself with ¾ of a strawberry shortcake. But how do I really know whether I brought this on myself or whether it was something wrong with the food? Ive heard other people say they got sick at Disney World and it may be helpful to know whether the illness was similar, so pardon the graphic description of my ailment. What I have is not exactly diarrhea, but lets just say that from here on in I shall always remember attending the Poop-De-Doo Review, Review, Review. How it is possible for anyone to make eight or ten trips to the bathroom in one night I cant say, but its a record I hope never to repeat.
I am so tired that I finally drift off to sleep somewhere between 3:00 and 4:00 AM and sleep in fits and starts between the ten trips to the bathroom. During my waking moments, my mind clings to one miserable thought: Tonga Toast, Tonga Toast, I had so looked forward to our breakfast tomorrow. Any other time we would simply show up at the Kona Café and wait to be seated, but this time we have an ADR, and now it is highly unlikely we will be able to go. I have hardly slept so far and my stomach feels like a truck rolled over it. Oh what a miserable turn of events. I
SO wanted my Tonga Toast.
Hi, mikamah: The statement about the waterslide photo was a joke. Sorry. You didn't miss a photo. I was making a reference to my pool-hopping spoof where I said there is a hidden camera inside all the waterslides and they take people's pictures and post them in the resort offices. 
I don't know the rest of the words.
)
felt better in the morning.
Lucky for him I don't drink beer.
