After leaving the grim grinning ghosts behind in the dust, we burned some "free" double stroller rubber and took off toward Fantasyland where we proceeded to bump into an insane amount of people and ride exactly zero rides.
That's right. Zero rides. I know.
We did see Philharmagic though, which is not technically a ride.
Or is it?
Anyway, at least that was something.
I'm sad to report that there were no Honorary Musician titles for us on this night though. No maracas. No bongos. No certificates. No applause for the LaLas. We were no longer VIPs. We were merely nameless faces in a crowd forced to claim our own seats in the totally ordinary, run of the mill NIP section.
Which left us uncomfortably numb.
You’d think past royalty would at least get a mention at the beginning of the show. A nod. A wave. A police escort. A coupon for a free Chicken Snak Pak from the Hess. Something. But we got nothing. Nada. Zilch. We were once again merely ordinary people enjoying an extraordinary show.
Once Philharmagic was over, we'd planned on taking a spin on some of the timeless rides in the general vicinity, but after checking the time, we realized we needed to get a move on. Time was getting away from us. Not Morris Day and the Time. The actual time. How many more times can I use the word time? Anyway, we knew the second parade was coming up shortly so we wanted to stake out a good spot in front of the castle for it. And where there’s a parade, there must be snacks. Yet another unwritten rule.
In other words, we were looking to score a lil sumpm sumpm.
No, not that.
I wasn’t craving a Dole Whip that night. I’d already gotten that irrepressible urge out of my system earlier that week. On that night, I had my mind on something a little different. I wanted a Strawberry Swirl and I wanted it in the worst way.
I’d discovered them purely by accident a few years back while we were gearing up to watch Wishes with some friends of ours. At the time, my two choices were either a Strawberry Swirl or a frozen lemonade. And I think I’ve made it perfectly clear how I feel about a frozen lemonade. If there’s any doubt, just ask the garbage can in Epicot.
Anywho. For those of you that don’t know, allow me to spill some knowledge on you, as my husband would say. He claims he’s so full of knowledge, overflowing with it in fact, that I should stand clear and not bump him unless I want some knowledge spilled on me. And yes, I married this man of my own volition. In case you were wondering.
But enough about him. Back to the snack.
Basically, a Strawberry Swirl is the mango version of a Dole Whip. Except that it’s the strawberry version instead. It’s insane how good those suckers are. Insane! And they can be found in one place and one place only: The Enchanted Grove at the Magic Kingdom. It’s a little snack stand tucked away under the shadow of Cinderella’s castle between Fantasyland and Tomorrowland. And as much as I had been looking forward to a Dole Whip on this trip, I have to admit I had been looking forward to a Strawberry Swirl even more. They’re that good. Again, not quite as good as well, you know. But close. Okay, maybe not. Not by a long shot. But they’re good.
Let’s just leave it at that and move on. Shall we?
So as we approached the Enchanted Grove, I'm not ashamed to admit I was a little bit excited. Not as excited as Larry Birkhead was the day the world finally found out who fathered Anna Nicole’s baby. And I defnitely wasn't sporting a whacked out, maniacal grin like him. Shudder. But still. I was looking forward to slurping back some icy cold strawberry goodness while taking in the parade.
And no, I don't get out much. I thought we established that about four months ago.
We push the Free Ride past the carousel, around the curve and come to a stop in front of the Enchanted Grove.
And we (I) stand there.
Numbstruck.
Because the place was closed.
CLOSED!
No soup for you. Come back one year.
My heart sank. And yes, I know how pathetic that sounds. But dangit, I had been looking forward to that combination of entertainment and icy strawberry refreshment for far too long to have it end like this.
We walked up a little further and ran into a couple of CMs who were standing around talking. Chewing the fat. Bumping their gums. Since they did, in fact, work there, I assumed they would know more about the place than I did. So I sidled up beside them and asked if they knew if the Enchanted Grove was closed for the rest of the night or if it would be opening back up later on. And then I waited for their response.
Long pause.
Really long
uncomfortable
awkward
pause.
They looked at me.
I looked at them.
They looked at their feet.
Then they both looked at each other. And back at me. Shrugged their shoulders and raised their eyebrows. Without ever speaking a word.
So I repeated my question. Slowly. With hand motions.
Turns out, they didn’t even know what an Enchanted Grove was, much less that it was closed. Or why it was closed. When it would reopen. Other things they didn’t seem to know: their names, their children’s birthdays, who the freaky looking mouse was, and why the heck Hurley continues to pack on the poundage in record time even though he’s been on a deserted island for three seasons now.
And no, those Apollo bars can’t have that much fat in ‘em.
I sadly resigned myself to the fact that I would not be getting a Strawberry Swirl on this trip. For the past few years, I’d had my Strawberry Swirl and no Dole Whip. The year I finally get my Dole Whip, I’m shut out in the Strawberry Swirl department. I felt like Tom Hanks holding his thumb up in the air and blocking out his view of the earth. Except that I’m a female who looks nothing like Tom Hanks. Not even the Bosom Buddies Tom Hanks. And I was in Disneyworld. Not stuck on the other side of the atmosphere on a bum spacecraft longing to return home. And this was about snacks. Not life and death.
So other than those few things, it was the exact same.
We bid farewell to the Dynamic Duo and decided to move on. Dot org. And do a little pilfering. Only we (I) didn’t pilfer. There. Only here. Right here. Right now.
But we’re not talking about right here, right now. We’re talking about then. And we did move on. We moved on to a perfect spot in front of the castle and set up shop for the parade. We knew there was a snack cart not too far from where we were standing so DH took off to grab some refreshments for his crew. Cause he’s a good man. He came back with his arms loaded down with popcorn and drinks for everyone. The parade music had already started by the time he arrived and I noticed that my husband had a look of surprised confusion on his face. Which is normally the look I get when the girl and I return from the mall and tell him how much money we just dropped.
DH: I didn’t miss it, did I?
Me: Yes, you missed it. I can't believe you missed it. Again! It was awesome, man. You should’ve seen it!
DH: What?! You’re kidding me. There’s no way! No way I missed it again.
Me: You’re right. I’m kidding. Now hand over the popcorn and shut your pie hole. You didn’t miss it.
If you’ll remember, he had been psyched about seeing the Headless Horseman for the last two years but for one reason or another (poor snack procurement timing, weak bladder, halitosis, missing gerund, gorilla), he had missed out on seeing him. Time after time.
But not on this night.
I guess the Headless Horseman was his Dole Whip. In a twisted, macabre, non-pineapple kind of way. And this was the year he got it. He finally got the chance to see him make his run around the park at the beginning of the Boo To You parade.
Yep, that was it. That’s what he had been looking forward to for three years.
Three years. Hope you didn’t blink.
I have to admit it was pretty cool though. Seeing it live and hearing the clip clop of the horse’s hooves as he circled in front of the castle and then made his ride down Main Street was bad. Not bad meaning bad but bad meaning good. They tell the Legend of Sleepy Hollow before the Headless Horseman comes around. Then there he is. And there he was. DH had been waiting all that time to see it and the whole thing was over faster than Pee Wee Herman’s career after The Incident.
It didn’t take long for the parade to make its way around after the HH had gone by. We were just thankful they didn’t feed the horse dinner from Teppanyaki beforehand. What I mean by that is this: there were no bucketfuls of "magic" left on the street this time.
As I’ve said before, we’re not normally big parade people. We’re just not. With the exception of Spectromagic, of course. Because Spectromagic’s the bomb. Diggity. Even. But we also love the Boo To You parade. The characters are abundant and they’re all dressed up, ready to party. Not to mention the music. We just love that little song. It’s so catchy. Who doesn’t love that song? As each float passes, the song remains the same, yet it’s different. Somehow. They change it ever so slightly to fit the tone and the theme of each attraction that’s represented.
There are many floats that we love to watch roll by but I think one of the coolest things about the Haunted Mansion float is the shovel guys. They’re a big hit and they always draw several oohs and ahhs from the crowd. Hopefully the video won’t turn out too dark and you’ll be able to check out the cool shovel routine, complete with sparks.
Cause that’s hot.
While we were eating at Chef Mickey’s earlier that night, the boy watched the Main Mice flirt shamelessly with each other. And then Goofy walked by. Poor, lonely, Goofy. It was at that point that the boy asked me where Clarabelle was. He wanted to know why she was never with Goofy. She’s Goofy’s woman, right? Or is she? They flirt shamelessly with each other in the cartoons. So why don’t we ever see her? Are they an on again/off again thing? Did she go all Glenn Close on him, forcing him to get a restraining order? Did she get stuck on Splash Mountain too or is she just hanging out in the Disney vault with all the other characters?
Inquiring minds want to know.
Funny he should mention it. Because one of the very last floats in the parade was none other than Miss Clarabelle.
Well, at least we think it was her.
The boy grabbed my arm and pointed. And then he screamed “
CLARABELLE! MOM! IT'S CLARABELLE!"
Which was a good thing. Because no one else around us had the first clue who the heffer was.
But by far, the best float of the whole parade was this one. And once again, they're letting Goofy drive. Not a good idea.
The kids’ little orange bags were stuffed slap full of little Nestle Crunch bars by the very generous CMs on Candy Patrol.
Once the parade was over, we told the kids to jump in, took the brake off the Free Ride, backed it up, and quickly hung a right. We headed straight for Tomorowland and rode Buzz Lightyear three times in a row.
Uno, dos, tres.
Or uno, tres, ocho if you’re my girl Frick.
Big grin!
Anyway, we rode it back to back. To back. The reason we rode it three times in a row can best be summed up in one word. Or two. Which, in some circles, is the equivalent of 6-4.
My husband.
He’s very competitive on this ride. The man don’t play. He knows he’ll always smoke me because I’m usually too busy playing around with the spinner, riding backwards, getting raged up at the Pitiful shoutout from Zurg, and taking pictures of stuff to put up any real competition. The boy’s just not old enough yet to give his dad a run for his money, although it won’t be long. And it’s best if we just not even bring the girl into this discussion.
Bless her little heart.
So the way Mr. Testosterone sees it, he must have someone to compete against, someone worthy enough to give him a run for his money. And out of the four of us, his only and best competition is…. himself. In a pathetic attempt to beat… himself… by way of besting… his …previous scores, we ride Buzz Lighyear three times in a row.
For him.
Not that we mind, of course. Because we all love that ride too.
On our first go round, before we were all knee deep in testosterone, I was stopped at the entrance by a very friendly CM. And no, it’s not what you’re thinking. We weren’t asked to hop up and down on one foot. Or declared Honorary Mrs. Nesbits. For a change.
But she did hand me something.
For those of you who have always wondered how they determine the stand by times for the rides, this is it.
Pay attention. There’ll be a pop quiz later.
Apparently they pick a random guest at the entrance to the building, hand them a little red card like the one I'm holding in the photo, record the time the card was handed out, and instruct the guest to pass it off to the attendant before they hop into the car at the end of the line. The hand off time is then recorded. By using simple (or not so simple) arithmetic, they then determine the estimated standby wait time and post it at the beginning of the queue.
Realizing what a rare opportunity I had, I grinned to myself.
And decided to have a little fun with it.
I slowed my steps down as I made my way through the line.
Then I came to a complete stop. Took three steps backwards. Led the group of people wearing those lamer than lame “This IS My Costume” Tshirts in the Cha Cha Slide. And told ‘em to try using some imagination next year. Let Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs cut in front of us and motioned Charlie’s Angels on by as well. I stopped Bosley and his lame 70s speaker phone and sent him packing to the back of the line just because I didn’t like the way he looked at me. Then I doubled back to the Enchanted Grove to see if they’d decided to open up and serve somebody a Strawberry Swirl for a change. Ducked into the bathroom. The one in Canada. Passed out from the stench and hit my head on the toilet on the way down. Woke up and caught the monorail back to the MK where I finally got back in line and handed off the card to the CM at the end. Right before we boarded.
Five minutes.
I did all that in five minutes.
OR DID I?!
After our third ride on Buzz and being forced to witness my husband talk smack to.. himself… and declare… himself… the winner of the Buzz Lightyear Olympics, we decided to head back toward the castle to grab a spot for Hallowishes.
We passed Chappie along the way.
Chappie, it was good seeing you and all, but next time try not to freak the girl out so much, okay? And here’s a little hint. You can’t skate backwards. I know you think you can but really. Stop it. It’s Disneyworld, not couples skate at the roller rink on a Friday night. It’s not pretty and it’s dangerous for everybody involved.
Seriously though. What the heck is that freaky thing? I haven’t seen anything so disturbingly purple since Barney. And as bad as he was, even he wasn’t on roller blades. Much less stilts and roller blades.
Moving on.
We found a spot close to where we had watched the parade, grabbed some curb and got ready for Hallowishes. I honestly would have preferred to be further down Main Street for the fireworks, but whatever. None of us felt like walking any more than we had to at that point.
Soon the lights around the park dim and the music starts. It’s definitely different from your average Wishes show. They really go all out for this. And it shows. The fireworks are amazing.
The grand finale includes perimeter fireworks, which are off the hook. I talked about it some in last year’s trip report but there are still no words to explain how cool they are. You have to be there. Underneath them. Looking up and around you as they go off to understand what I’m talking about.
And yes, I’m including a link to the end of the show from that night. Again, I could link a video that’s been set up on a tripod (totally blocking some poor schmuck's view, no doubt) and focused on the entire castle. One from
YouTube. One that’s actually still and doesn’t jump around. Or zoom in. And zoom out. Unexpectedly. Making you feel the need to hurl. But this was our experience, not someone else’s. So this is yet another imperfect video. But maybe it’ll give you some idea of what I’m talking about.
Or maybe not. Whatever. I really don't care.
Or do I?
Since when did the Happyhaunts start thanking people for hanging around?! That’s what I wanna know.
Once the fireworks were over, we made our way back up Main Street toward the park exit. Yes, there was still plenty of time left to play at the party. But it had been an extremely long day and we were pooped.
NOZ.
We stopped at one last candy station on the way out and the kids topped off their orange bags with more little Nestle Crunch bars. Then we worked our way through the crowd and up to the monorail station on our journey back to the Contemporary. My Jack Sparrow, who ended up having a blast after all, was so tired that he leaned against me as we walked and I put my arm around him. Not just because I love him. But also in an effort to steady both of us. Seriously. When did the boy get so big? The girl and her dad walked just ahead of us. The handsome, strong man that I married and his budding steel magnolia dressed in a Minnie costume walked hand in hand all the way back up the ramp. I watched them walk and tried to etch the sight into my mind, to commit it to memory and store it away for another day.
A day when work and school are once again a priority and our free time isn’t so free.
The monorail pulls into the station and we all slide in to make the short trip over to the Contemporary. As tired as we are, we still smile when we hear the spiel. We pick up our ride from valet and head back over to the AKL, making all the appropriate (note the correct spelling) turns at the appropriate (and again) times. In other words: nobody was driven out of Disneyworld. This time.
As soon as the kids get comfortable in the backseat, they fall asleep. They’re out like a couple of cool as all get out light fixtures. In the middle of a pile of Minnie mouse dolls and one unbelievably cool hat with an obscene amount of fake black hair attached to it.
Up Next: Last Day…enfreude? 
This chapter has brought back so many fond memories for me this morning! Thanks for sharing and I can't wait to hear the rest!!! 
Send me a PM next time there's a new installment, 'kay? Or not ... I'll find it eventually. 
I don't quite have the 'spoiled, bratty fairy mischief' thing down yet (though I'm sure my boyfriend would disagree!). Thus, still in training.
priceless 
