LaLa
Hangs with the Mensas
- Joined
- Aug 26, 2005
- Messages
- 2,096
As the boat slid smoothly toward the dock, we gathered our belongings and waited for our turn to hop aboard the vessel that would take us from one world to the next. While we waited, we listened to the music floating on the breeze from the countries situated just behind us and marveled at the beauty around us.
Well, one out of four of us marveled.
The other three were too busy playing thumb war and doling out wet willies to the loser to notice. Because we don’t just kick you when you’re down. We “plus it” by shoving a spit soaked finger in your ear to boot.
Once we stepped aboard the boat, took a shower in antibacterial gel (twice and then once again for good measure) and grabbed some seats, we were on our way. And like Annie Lenox, I wondered why. Why hadn’t we ever taken that easy ride across World Showcase before? Why had we always insisted on walking our little feet off from WS to FW when we could’ve just hopped on a boat and been done with it already? Why, at thirty seven years old, do I still feel compelled to memorize the dance moves from the opening number of High School Musical 2? But that’s neither here nor there. My point is the boat ride was relaxing and it sure beat the heck out of walking around the world in eighty minutes.
Or half walking, half running, half dorking around the world in eighteen minutes.
Upon arriving in Future World, we half power walked, half strutted, half skipped all the way to Test Track in the hopes that we might be able to score a trip through the corrosion chamber (because isn’t that everyone’s favorite part?) before the line was longer than that lame song by Dan Fogelberg. Seeing as how it was our Number Two Must See for the day (Top Four is the new Top Seven) we were hoping we could catch it before the wait was ninety minutes long.
Or something crazy like that.
Snap!
We were too late.
As much as we love us some Test Track, we don’t love it enough to stand in line for ninety minutes to ride it. The only thing we’d wait in line that long to ride is Maelstrom. Or a mechanical bull. Since all the fastpasses had already been distributed for the day (what?!), we decided to find something else to ride for the time being and hoped the line would diminish later on in the day.
It should probably go without saying that at this point, we were really missing our front of the line access. In the worst way. We’d gotten used to having the Universal Express Pass and sauntering onto all the rides we wanted without a care in the world. It was like eating at a buffet. Of rides. You were free to help yourself to everything on the bar as many times as you wanted. But we weren’t at a ride buffet anymore. We were in a French restaurant ordering everything a la carte, waiting forever for it to show up, and wondering why in the world the waiter stinks so bad. And unlike on days prior where we had clamored onto ride after ride and laughed at the poor schmucks who had the misfortune of having to actually pay attention to and abide by the posted wait times, we were now a slave to the stand by line and its dreaded double and triple digit LED numbers.
Now we were the poor schmucks.
Darn inferior Fastpass system!
And with that thought, the four schmucks turned and walked away. Hoping for the best later on and reminding each other “It’s all good, bay-beh bay-beh!”
We then set our sights on the ride the girl once referred to as Space Mountain. For obvious reasons.
This was the first time we’d ridden Spaceship Earth since the rehab and we were pretty darn impressed with the changes. We loved all the interactive features and got a kick out of seeing our tiny, sweaty little faces photoshopped into an episode from the Jetsons at the end. Our favorite part was the drop though. Mainly because we weren’t expecting it. Everyone held their hands up high on the hill climb and screamed and there we went. Straight down ten stories!
All I can say is Jurassic Park’s a chump compared to Spaceship Earth!
Of course I’m kidding. There was no drop. But there was a ZZUB. Hanging out in his mom’s basement. Furiously typing out the prologue to Battle For My Wallet VI: Why Didn’t I Stop With Five?
After our lil spin on Spaceship Earth, we were feeling a lil thirsty. So we shimmied on over to Club Cool, where we were able to join the uber exclusive club just by walking in the door.
We made quick work of some one ounce portions of free international Cokes. Well, three of us did. By the time I’d made it to the machine, the kids and DH had already sucked back three or four cups each and were two fistin’ the Kinley and Mezzo Mix.
The boy then came at me with a Coke and a smile. Telling me in a sneaky tone, “Here, Mom. Try this. You’ll like it.” As he tried (unsuccessfully) to hold back a giggle.
"Yeah, try it you’ll like it."
More giggles.
That was the girl. She and the boy had joined forces against me and in their little minds, they were the very first people in the history of the world to ever attempt to trick a family member into taking a big swig of the dreaded Beverly.
"Go 'head, honey. Try it."
Fake, really weird sounding grown up man giggles.
DH had gotten in on the act as well. They were like the Three Musketeers. All joined together as one to pull off what the kids saw as the ultimate practical joke. Now, I could’ve told them straight up I knew what they were up to. And that I’d seen right through their little charade from the very beginning because I’m smarter than them and I actually do have eyes in the back of my head. To go along with my lobster claws and webbed toes. But they were so darn cute. Rubbing their little hands together and fighting back the giggles. Giving out the anxious sideways glances. Bumping each other with their elbows. Yeah, that was mostly DH and not so much the kids. But the kids were cute too. So I feigned ignorance and said “Oh, that’s so sweet of you to fix me a drink! I bet you picked out the best tasting one of the bunch for your mother who loves you more than life itself and who, up until just a few short years ago, wiped your hind end and spent a collective eighteen hours in painful, gutwrenching labor bringing the two of you into this world. How sweet of you to fix me this drink. Thank you, dear hearts.”
Or something along those lines.
Mostly I just played along, let them have their laughs and think they’d gotten one over on me as I tasted the Beverly. And then made a huge production out of how awful it was and how they’d really gotten me good this time. They all high fived each other and jumped up and down. And then the girl apologized and brought me some Kinley (aka Sprite) to wash it down.
While the boys threw out an overly enthusiastic “SUCKA!”
Once we were done with the drinking of the FREE Cokes, we hit Figment. Not literally. Although that would’ve perfectly fine with my husband by the end of the ride. My gut tells me he wouldn't be opposed to clockin' him if he ever got a clear shot. He’s not really down with Figment. Doesn’t really feel the Figment love. When we get to the rainbow section and One Little Spark starts playing, his eyes roll so far back into his head, he seizes up, starts drooling and becomes comatose until the ride is over. When the car stops, I nudge him on the shoulder and he’s good to go. Ready to hit the next ride. As long as it’s not Figment again. My daughter and I, however, love it. There’s just something about that song and the big shiny red cars that we love. The boy ranks it somewhere between El Rio del Sucko and Universe of Energy. But he likes the skunk part. And the upside down part. And on this trip through Upside Down Black Light Land, we looked up and noticed something we’d never seen before.
Most normal people find Hidden Mickeys on wallpaper and on the designs (is that what we’re calling them?) of their ‘never been washed’ hotel room bedding. Cleverly tucked into signage. Floating by on carousels. We never see those. But put an upside down toilet in the middle of a Hidden Mickey and then throw a black light on it and the LaLas will find it every time.
After the ride ended, we walked outside and took a jaunt around the joint. Taking in the beauty that is Epcot during the Flower and Garden Festival.
Since our Fastpass window for Soarin was approaching, we thought it was a good idea to head over to the Land and waste a little bit of time while we waited for Puddy to greet us and reacquaint us with some important safety information.
All I can say is it’s a good thing we had the foresight to grab some fastpasses earlier in the day because as we walked up, we spotted this sign.
It wasn’t even two at that point in the afternoon. We were floored. But it was all good. All good, I say. We had a ticket to ride and we didn’t care.
As we made our way up the incline and smelled the aroma from the food court wafting through the doors as they opened and closed, blasting us with periodic shots of cold air, things felt eerily familiar. And eerily unfamiliar all at the same time. Because for the first time ever, we were without a stroller.
Let those words sink in for a minute.
Without. A. Stroller.
These were the days my husband had ached for since having children. From the first time he’d pushed a double through wall to wall crowds on Main Street after Wishes. From the first time he’d mistakenly sliced through someone’s Achille’s tendon and offered no more than a weak “My wife made me do it” for their trouble. From the first time he’d pushed a double stroller full of kids and melting popsicles uphill and against traffic at a very narrow and winding Tough to be a Bug queue because we’d missed the stroller drop off point, he’d longed for this. Every year as we pulled through the arches on our way back home, he would announce “We’re not going back to Disney until the kids can handle the parks without a stroller.”
You see how well that worked out for him.
But still, the day he’d dreamt of had finally arrived. The freedom of movement we experienced on that trip is something they write songs about. I had been worried about it a little at first. I worried the girl might get tired and cranky at the end of the day without a Redneck ride to retire to. Without a place to rest her little legs as she ate rapidly melting Mickey bars, played in the vanilla soup in the big blue well underfoot and enjoyed being pushed around like the Queen of Sheeba. Kicked back and pointing to where she wanted to go next. But she’d kept up with us the entire trip and hung in there without the first complaint. She was a trooper. They both were, as a matter of fact. And for the first time ever as we approached the Land, we didn’t have to furiously search for a sideways parking spot for our stroller. We didn’t have to make sure the two yard length of red and white polka dot fabric was tied onto the handle so we’d be able to spot our ride as we emerged into the blinding sunlight and found a CM had done the Stroller Shuffle while we were hangin’ out with Puddy.
That’sright.
Walking up to the Land felt completely different to us than it ever had before. We felt free. Unencumbered. Joyously so, even. But we also felt naked. Buck naked. Whatever that means. We weren’t quite sure what to do with our hands and we felt like we needed to push. So we rounded the kids up, tilted them back on their heels and pushed them around for a minute or two. For old times’ sake.
Once inside, we hit the bathrooms and briefly debated over whether we would sit through the lame-o Circle of Life deal. DH won the debate.
I’ve been asked to add a disclaimer here: for the record, the only reason my husband wanted to watch the lame-o Circle of Life deal is because we had to waste some time and the attraction included both cushioned seating and air conditioning. He doesn’t think it’s a Fastpass.
And that’s how lame it is. People who pressure other people to see it feel they must explain themselves after the fact. Anyway, we sat. And watched the show. Well, they sat and watched the show. I mostly sat and watched my eyes roll so far back into my head that I peed my pants and forgot who I was for a half hour or so. After I regained consciousness, we finally moved onto something good for a change.
Living With The Land, baby.
The wait here was almost nonexistent. I bet they were all busy beating a path to Circle of Life: An Environmental Fable instead. Not. We hopped right on our boat and took off through the scenery.
This is another ride we always enjoy as a family. I’m not sure why. Maybe because we’re just Redneck enough to think plants growing upside down without dirt is cool as all get out. Being a backyard patio tomato grower, DH was pretty impressed with the offerings on this bad boy and made me take a picture.
As we passed the Tomato Tree to be Revered by Gardeners Everywhere, Mr. Country Boy Can Survive leaned in and whispered “I wonder what kind of fertilizer they use on that.” I patted him on the leg. Looked at him lovingly. And replied, “Do you really think it matters, honey?
As soon as our feet were back on solid ground, we cut a trail to Soarin, got in the Fastpass line and threw out the L sign to all the people we passed in the Standby line. As is our tradition. Once we made it to the flight attendant, we asked for (and scored) the most coveted seats of all.
Ahhh yeah!
We knew we were only doing it once so we were doing it right. Well, if we were doing it five times, we’d still be doing it right. The point is we scored B1 and we were feeling pretty dang skippy about it.
The ride was incredible, exhilarating, and three other words that all mean kick butt. Just like always. I honestly think I could ride Soarin fifty times in a row and never get tired of it. That’s when you know the Disney Imagineers have done their job and done it well. They definitely hit a home run with this one, as far as I’m concerned. It’s the bomb diggity. The stuff. It’s off the hook. And there other phrases nearing middle aged parents should probably not utter. Out loud.
One “Must See” down. Two more to go.
After we exited the Land, we made our way over to Test Track where we were greeted with a ninety minute standby by wait time yet again. Our spirits were instantly deflated. But as we stood there and surveyed the crowd, both DH and I noticed something peculiar. When the wait time was ninety minutes earlier, the line was all the way out the door. It wrapped around Mission Sinise (that one’s for Mel) and ended up somewhere roughly around the Maharaja Jungle Trek. But now, the line was fully contained inside the building.
What’s up with that? We said. Barely able to contain our giddiness as the realization hit us full force.
We jumped in line and breezed through the queue in just under ten minutes.
TEN.
One, two, three, four, ten.
That’s right baby. The sign was WRONG! So wrong. That was truly one of the most memorable moments of the day. We practically ran walked through the queue, giggling the entire time. Jacked up about our score.
As we squished into the pre show area and watched Bill come on the monitor and do his thing with the calling out of the numbers of the test sequences (you know the spiel: “…go ahead and put up 2, 5 annnd... 7”), DH and I feigned equal parts shock and terror and called out, “Not seven! Anything but seven! Seven’s the WORST!” Which cracked us up. But freaked the kids out. Not our kids. They knew what to expect. From the ride. And from us. Unfortunately. I’m talking about other people’s kids. And other kids’ people.
Our bad.
We boarded and buckled up. And were soon taking off like a shot.
The ride was awesome, just like always. We laugh screamed the entire time. And regardless of how many times I’ve ridden that sucker, I have to take this shot….
…because there’s nothing like speeding around Test Track getting your laugh scream on and seeing Spaceship Earth come into your field of vision on the right.
Never get tired of that.
Two “Must Sees” down. One to go.
By this point, it was time for supper and after checking out a few different places for walk in availability and getting turned away and given the “Where you think you are, Universal?!” eyeball jackslap each time, we found a quiet place to sit and regroup.
Well, it was quiet when we sat down. Not so much after the drums.
Nevertheless, I whipped out my cell phone and called Disney Dining. Turns out, there was exactly one ADR left in all of the WS for dinner (or so she said) and it was at Nine Dragons. In fifteen minutes. I stood up and shouted “WE’LL TAKE IT!” Not so much because I was excited but because otherwise she wouldn’t have heard me over the din of The Drums Loud Enough to Wake the Dead.
We took off like a shot and made it from Japan to China in just under ten minutes. Stopping only to take a picture perfect shot of Spaceship Earth at sunset from the other side of the lagoon.
Well, it WAS perfect. Until a couple of bozos walked right into my shot.
We made it to our ADR on time and were seated in short order. We’d eaten at Nine Dragons in the past when the kids were really little and we thought the food was great at the time. In fact, I found the recipe for their Honey Sesame Chicken and attempted to recreate it in my kitchen after we’d gotten home. Crashed and burned on that one. Wasn’t pretty. But the Nine Dragons version was delicious. And it didn’t disappoint on this night either. The food was good. We were all pleased with our meals. The kids were especially pleased that they were served chicken in a boat dish.
Because, let’s face it. You could serve kids beets with a side of hominy and throw it in a really cute dish and they’d think it was cool. So the dishes were good. The service was good. It was all good. The only problem was that they packed us in the restaurant like a bunch of sardines. Mama no like. I like to have some personal space during dinner. Not so here. DH’s elbow was one wrong turn away from addin’ a little extra BAM! to his neighbor’s won ton soup. I was so close to the father of the family seated next to us, I actually helped him chew his food and then burped him afterwards.
Unintentionally.
But even though we were in close quarters, we enjoyed our meal and were pleased with Nine Dragons. We’d been served a good, hot meal at a table service restaurant without having an ADR during Spring Break. And that was way more than we could’ve asked for. Not to mention the Honey Sesame Chicken was off the hook.
We made a few stops along the way to our final destination that night: a spot for Illuminations. As per yet another family tradition, we stopped in Germany to load up on some goodies to take back home with us. Our daughter discovered the gingerbread man with chocolate dipped Mickey ears they sell in Germany (quite the find that night for her) and made quick work of the ears. While the boy scored a big Toblerone. And then sat down and cuddled the Toblerone. Talked to the Toblerone. Patted the Toblerone and called it sweetheart.
He did all this while we sat in our perfect spot between the twin gift shops and waited for Illuminations to start. Time had crept up on us and it was hard to believe our day had almost come and gone. One of the things we hadn’t had time to do earlier was to venture into Mouse Gear to let the girl spend the rest of her souvenir money. The boy had already blown through all of his and was content to sit with his father and lick the Toblerone bar while I took the girl on a last minute mission.
I didn’t feel like walking all the way to Mouse Gear and back since it was getting close to 9:00 so the girl and I ventured into one of the twin gift shops. When we walked in the place, my normally indecisive as all get out daughter (at least when she’s in the toy department at WalMart), scoured the shelves for something. Not just anything. Something. She was on a mission and she meant business. She looked near the pink princess gear but it wasn’t there. She checked out the area adjacent to the candy. Not there either. She briefly let her fingers rest longingly on a new coloring book, but said she really wanted something else and that she had just enough “monies” left to get it.
As it turns out, once she finally found what she was looking for and melted into a puddle of excitement on the floor at seeing it, holding it, rocking it, kissing it, she and I both realized that she did NOT have “just enough monies” left on her card for it. Her face immediately fell and I knew she was seconds away from the most pitiful cascade of tears ever. She wanted that Baby Minnie. In the worst way. She mentioned something about Mickey needing a little sister and how she needed to be with her "fambly". There was but one thing to do. The girl and I marched up to the counter and Mama spotted her the money for one sweet little Baby Minnie. With her soft, pink little blanket. The same one she’d wanted in the Poly gift shop on our first night. The same one she had kissed and set back on the shelf. The same one she’d talked about ever since. The girl was on Cloud Nine that her little fambly was now complete. And I was on cloud nine just watching the happiness roll off her. What a great night that was. We picked up a few other little goodies as well and after checking out, we made our way back to find the boys.
We arrived just in time to see the torches being blown out by the Invisible Man. Man, I love that part. This was the moment we’d been looking forward to the most all day. Illuminations, for us, is always the perfect way to cap off an awesome day in the place we love so much. Epicot. Our Epicot. We have come to anticipate each explosion in the show and we know the music by heart. And unlike everything that we’d done that day in Epicot, all four of us love Illuminations equally. So at the end of this day that had been filled with such wonderful and unexpected blessings, we stood with our arms around each other in a loving embrace and took in the familiar spectacle that is Illuminations: My husband, me, our son, our daughter, Baby Minnie and the Toblerone.
And a little British boy.
Who smelled like he’d just eaten a big bowl of turd soup.
He’d bulldozed his way through the middle of us around the time the globe made its appearance and promptly helped himself to a spot we’d saved for nearly an hour. After he’d set up shop in the midst of our family, his mom’s arm suddenly appeared from the space between me and my husband. One minute we’re enjoying the family togetherness, listening to the pace of the music slow as the scenes begin to flash across the face of the globe and the next we’re watching a forearm wave erratically between us as the fingers fan out and claw at the air in a blind, fevered search for its offspring. She made contact and put the sleeper hold on him. With one hand. He shoved The Forearm away and yelled “NO! I want to stay!”. As he inched further away from her and in the process, shoved the girl out of her space. So I tapped him on the shoulder and told him he needed to move over and let her back in. Which he did. Briefly. Now, let me say that both my husband and I are of the mindset that whenever possible, kids should get front row positions for things like this. Because they’re shorter. For other reasons too but we’ll just go with shorter for the time being. So we didn’t necessarily mind him getting in front of us. But we also believe that once the child is given the go ahead for the Stand in Front, said child shouldn’t start shoving other kids out of the way just so they can have a lil extra elbow room.
Or smell like poo.
As we stood there holding our noses and trying to watch the lasers and the fake out ending, The Forearm swooped in for Round Two. There was a bit of a struggle, followed by a much more violent smack down and a loud cry of “But MUMMY! I can see puhhhhh-fectly from hee-ya!!!!”
Which has, curiously, become our family’s battle cry when we really don’t want to do something. The only condition is that it has to be spoken with a perfect fake British accent.
NOGwynethPaltrow.
Eventually The Forearm gave up. None of us were surprised. You shouldn’t be either.
We watched the rest of the show in relative peace and managed to take a few shots along the way.
And just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.
In more ways than one.
Normally, our last night in Disney is spent at Epicot. And we always watch Illuminations on those nights. Always. So it was fitting that our last night of vacation in Orlando was spent following that tradition. As is always the case, once the smoke has cleared and we’ve turned to join the mass of humanity walking toward the exit, I felt a little sad. Sad that this walk toward the exit symbolized the drawing to a close of our vacation. Sad because I knew it would most likely be a very long time before we were able to be in that place again. But mostly sad that the flowers flanking my front door would never look like these, no matter how much Miracle Gro I used.
We made it back to our resort without incident. Well, other than DH driving us out of Disneyworld. On purpose. Again.
Sigh.
As we got cleaned up, we talked about our day and dug into the snacks we’d picked up from Germany and then fell happily into bed. But not before the girl had tucked her now complete sweet little family of four into bed and kissed each one on the nose.
Apparently Mickey, Minnie, Michael and Marie had quite the memorable day and as they went to bed that night, they were extremely grateful for their many blessings.
NOLaLas.
Up Next: The Last Day
Well, one out of four of us marveled.
The other three were too busy playing thumb war and doling out wet willies to the loser to notice. Because we don’t just kick you when you’re down. We “plus it” by shoving a spit soaked finger in your ear to boot.
Once we stepped aboard the boat, took a shower in antibacterial gel (twice and then once again for good measure) and grabbed some seats, we were on our way. And like Annie Lenox, I wondered why. Why hadn’t we ever taken that easy ride across World Showcase before? Why had we always insisted on walking our little feet off from WS to FW when we could’ve just hopped on a boat and been done with it already? Why, at thirty seven years old, do I still feel compelled to memorize the dance moves from the opening number of High School Musical 2? But that’s neither here nor there. My point is the boat ride was relaxing and it sure beat the heck out of walking around the world in eighty minutes.
Or half walking, half running, half dorking around the world in eighteen minutes.
Upon arriving in Future World, we half power walked, half strutted, half skipped all the way to Test Track in the hopes that we might be able to score a trip through the corrosion chamber (because isn’t that everyone’s favorite part?) before the line was longer than that lame song by Dan Fogelberg. Seeing as how it was our Number Two Must See for the day (Top Four is the new Top Seven) we were hoping we could catch it before the wait was ninety minutes long.
Or something crazy like that.
Snap!
We were too late.
As much as we love us some Test Track, we don’t love it enough to stand in line for ninety minutes to ride it. The only thing we’d wait in line that long to ride is Maelstrom. Or a mechanical bull. Since all the fastpasses had already been distributed for the day (what?!), we decided to find something else to ride for the time being and hoped the line would diminish later on in the day.
It should probably go without saying that at this point, we were really missing our front of the line access. In the worst way. We’d gotten used to having the Universal Express Pass and sauntering onto all the rides we wanted without a care in the world. It was like eating at a buffet. Of rides. You were free to help yourself to everything on the bar as many times as you wanted. But we weren’t at a ride buffet anymore. We were in a French restaurant ordering everything a la carte, waiting forever for it to show up, and wondering why in the world the waiter stinks so bad. And unlike on days prior where we had clamored onto ride after ride and laughed at the poor schmucks who had the misfortune of having to actually pay attention to and abide by the posted wait times, we were now a slave to the stand by line and its dreaded double and triple digit LED numbers.
Now we were the poor schmucks.
Darn inferior Fastpass system!
And with that thought, the four schmucks turned and walked away. Hoping for the best later on and reminding each other “It’s all good, bay-beh bay-beh!”
We then set our sights on the ride the girl once referred to as Space Mountain. For obvious reasons.
This was the first time we’d ridden Spaceship Earth since the rehab and we were pretty darn impressed with the changes. We loved all the interactive features and got a kick out of seeing our tiny, sweaty little faces photoshopped into an episode from the Jetsons at the end. Our favorite part was the drop though. Mainly because we weren’t expecting it. Everyone held their hands up high on the hill climb and screamed and there we went. Straight down ten stories!
All I can say is Jurassic Park’s a chump compared to Spaceship Earth!
Of course I’m kidding. There was no drop. But there was a ZZUB. Hanging out in his mom’s basement. Furiously typing out the prologue to Battle For My Wallet VI: Why Didn’t I Stop With Five?
After our lil spin on Spaceship Earth, we were feeling a lil thirsty. So we shimmied on over to Club Cool, where we were able to join the uber exclusive club just by walking in the door.
We made quick work of some one ounce portions of free international Cokes. Well, three of us did. By the time I’d made it to the machine, the kids and DH had already sucked back three or four cups each and were two fistin’ the Kinley and Mezzo Mix.
The boy then came at me with a Coke and a smile. Telling me in a sneaky tone, “Here, Mom. Try this. You’ll like it.” As he tried (unsuccessfully) to hold back a giggle.
"Yeah, try it you’ll like it."
More giggles.
That was the girl. She and the boy had joined forces against me and in their little minds, they were the very first people in the history of the world to ever attempt to trick a family member into taking a big swig of the dreaded Beverly.
"Go 'head, honey. Try it."
Fake, really weird sounding grown up man giggles.
DH had gotten in on the act as well. They were like the Three Musketeers. All joined together as one to pull off what the kids saw as the ultimate practical joke. Now, I could’ve told them straight up I knew what they were up to. And that I’d seen right through their little charade from the very beginning because I’m smarter than them and I actually do have eyes in the back of my head. To go along with my lobster claws and webbed toes. But they were so darn cute. Rubbing their little hands together and fighting back the giggles. Giving out the anxious sideways glances. Bumping each other with their elbows. Yeah, that was mostly DH and not so much the kids. But the kids were cute too. So I feigned ignorance and said “Oh, that’s so sweet of you to fix me a drink! I bet you picked out the best tasting one of the bunch for your mother who loves you more than life itself and who, up until just a few short years ago, wiped your hind end and spent a collective eighteen hours in painful, gutwrenching labor bringing the two of you into this world. How sweet of you to fix me this drink. Thank you, dear hearts.”
Or something along those lines.
Mostly I just played along, let them have their laughs and think they’d gotten one over on me as I tasted the Beverly. And then made a huge production out of how awful it was and how they’d really gotten me good this time. They all high fived each other and jumped up and down. And then the girl apologized and brought me some Kinley (aka Sprite) to wash it down.
While the boys threw out an overly enthusiastic “SUCKA!”
Once we were done with the drinking of the FREE Cokes, we hit Figment. Not literally. Although that would’ve perfectly fine with my husband by the end of the ride. My gut tells me he wouldn't be opposed to clockin' him if he ever got a clear shot. He’s not really down with Figment. Doesn’t really feel the Figment love. When we get to the rainbow section and One Little Spark starts playing, his eyes roll so far back into his head, he seizes up, starts drooling and becomes comatose until the ride is over. When the car stops, I nudge him on the shoulder and he’s good to go. Ready to hit the next ride. As long as it’s not Figment again. My daughter and I, however, love it. There’s just something about that song and the big shiny red cars that we love. The boy ranks it somewhere between El Rio del Sucko and Universe of Energy. But he likes the skunk part. And the upside down part. And on this trip through Upside Down Black Light Land, we looked up and noticed something we’d never seen before.
Most normal people find Hidden Mickeys on wallpaper and on the designs (is that what we’re calling them?) of their ‘never been washed’ hotel room bedding. Cleverly tucked into signage. Floating by on carousels. We never see those. But put an upside down toilet in the middle of a Hidden Mickey and then throw a black light on it and the LaLas will find it every time.
After the ride ended, we walked outside and took a jaunt around the joint. Taking in the beauty that is Epcot during the Flower and Garden Festival.
Since our Fastpass window for Soarin was approaching, we thought it was a good idea to head over to the Land and waste a little bit of time while we waited for Puddy to greet us and reacquaint us with some important safety information.
All I can say is it’s a good thing we had the foresight to grab some fastpasses earlier in the day because as we walked up, we spotted this sign.
It wasn’t even two at that point in the afternoon. We were floored. But it was all good. All good, I say. We had a ticket to ride and we didn’t care.
As we made our way up the incline and smelled the aroma from the food court wafting through the doors as they opened and closed, blasting us with periodic shots of cold air, things felt eerily familiar. And eerily unfamiliar all at the same time. Because for the first time ever, we were without a stroller.
Let those words sink in for a minute.
Without. A. Stroller.
These were the days my husband had ached for since having children. From the first time he’d pushed a double through wall to wall crowds on Main Street after Wishes. From the first time he’d mistakenly sliced through someone’s Achille’s tendon and offered no more than a weak “My wife made me do it” for their trouble. From the first time he’d pushed a double stroller full of kids and melting popsicles uphill and against traffic at a very narrow and winding Tough to be a Bug queue because we’d missed the stroller drop off point, he’d longed for this. Every year as we pulled through the arches on our way back home, he would announce “We’re not going back to Disney until the kids can handle the parks without a stroller.”
You see how well that worked out for him.
But still, the day he’d dreamt of had finally arrived. The freedom of movement we experienced on that trip is something they write songs about. I had been worried about it a little at first. I worried the girl might get tired and cranky at the end of the day without a Redneck ride to retire to. Without a place to rest her little legs as she ate rapidly melting Mickey bars, played in the vanilla soup in the big blue well underfoot and enjoyed being pushed around like the Queen of Sheeba. Kicked back and pointing to where she wanted to go next. But she’d kept up with us the entire trip and hung in there without the first complaint. She was a trooper. They both were, as a matter of fact. And for the first time ever as we approached the Land, we didn’t have to furiously search for a sideways parking spot for our stroller. We didn’t have to make sure the two yard length of red and white polka dot fabric was tied onto the handle so we’d be able to spot our ride as we emerged into the blinding sunlight and found a CM had done the Stroller Shuffle while we were hangin’ out with Puddy.
That’sright.
Walking up to the Land felt completely different to us than it ever had before. We felt free. Unencumbered. Joyously so, even. But we also felt naked. Buck naked. Whatever that means. We weren’t quite sure what to do with our hands and we felt like we needed to push. So we rounded the kids up, tilted them back on their heels and pushed them around for a minute or two. For old times’ sake.
Once inside, we hit the bathrooms and briefly debated over whether we would sit through the lame-o Circle of Life deal. DH won the debate.
I’ve been asked to add a disclaimer here: for the record, the only reason my husband wanted to watch the lame-o Circle of Life deal is because we had to waste some time and the attraction included both cushioned seating and air conditioning. He doesn’t think it’s a Fastpass.
And that’s how lame it is. People who pressure other people to see it feel they must explain themselves after the fact. Anyway, we sat. And watched the show. Well, they sat and watched the show. I mostly sat and watched my eyes roll so far back into my head that I peed my pants and forgot who I was for a half hour or so. After I regained consciousness, we finally moved onto something good for a change.
Living With The Land, baby.
The wait here was almost nonexistent. I bet they were all busy beating a path to Circle of Life: An Environmental Fable instead. Not. We hopped right on our boat and took off through the scenery.
This is another ride we always enjoy as a family. I’m not sure why. Maybe because we’re just Redneck enough to think plants growing upside down without dirt is cool as all get out. Being a backyard patio tomato grower, DH was pretty impressed with the offerings on this bad boy and made me take a picture.
As we passed the Tomato Tree to be Revered by Gardeners Everywhere, Mr. Country Boy Can Survive leaned in and whispered “I wonder what kind of fertilizer they use on that.” I patted him on the leg. Looked at him lovingly. And replied, “Do you really think it matters, honey?
As soon as our feet were back on solid ground, we cut a trail to Soarin, got in the Fastpass line and threw out the L sign to all the people we passed in the Standby line. As is our tradition. Once we made it to the flight attendant, we asked for (and scored) the most coveted seats of all.
Ahhh yeah!
We knew we were only doing it once so we were doing it right. Well, if we were doing it five times, we’d still be doing it right. The point is we scored B1 and we were feeling pretty dang skippy about it.
The ride was incredible, exhilarating, and three other words that all mean kick butt. Just like always. I honestly think I could ride Soarin fifty times in a row and never get tired of it. That’s when you know the Disney Imagineers have done their job and done it well. They definitely hit a home run with this one, as far as I’m concerned. It’s the bomb diggity. The stuff. It’s off the hook. And there other phrases nearing middle aged parents should probably not utter. Out loud.
One “Must See” down. Two more to go.
After we exited the Land, we made our way over to Test Track where we were greeted with a ninety minute standby by wait time yet again. Our spirits were instantly deflated. But as we stood there and surveyed the crowd, both DH and I noticed something peculiar. When the wait time was ninety minutes earlier, the line was all the way out the door. It wrapped around Mission Sinise (that one’s for Mel) and ended up somewhere roughly around the Maharaja Jungle Trek. But now, the line was fully contained inside the building.
What’s up with that? We said. Barely able to contain our giddiness as the realization hit us full force.
We jumped in line and breezed through the queue in just under ten minutes.
TEN.
One, two, three, four, ten.
That’s right baby. The sign was WRONG! So wrong. That was truly one of the most memorable moments of the day. We practically ran walked through the queue, giggling the entire time. Jacked up about our score.
As we squished into the pre show area and watched Bill come on the monitor and do his thing with the calling out of the numbers of the test sequences (you know the spiel: “…go ahead and put up 2, 5 annnd... 7”), DH and I feigned equal parts shock and terror and called out, “Not seven! Anything but seven! Seven’s the WORST!” Which cracked us up. But freaked the kids out. Not our kids. They knew what to expect. From the ride. And from us. Unfortunately. I’m talking about other people’s kids. And other kids’ people.
Our bad.
We boarded and buckled up. And were soon taking off like a shot.
The ride was awesome, just like always. We laugh screamed the entire time. And regardless of how many times I’ve ridden that sucker, I have to take this shot….
…because there’s nothing like speeding around Test Track getting your laugh scream on and seeing Spaceship Earth come into your field of vision on the right.
Never get tired of that.
Two “Must Sees” down. One to go.
By this point, it was time for supper and after checking out a few different places for walk in availability and getting turned away and given the “Where you think you are, Universal?!” eyeball jackslap each time, we found a quiet place to sit and regroup.
Well, it was quiet when we sat down. Not so much after the drums.
Nevertheless, I whipped out my cell phone and called Disney Dining. Turns out, there was exactly one ADR left in all of the WS for dinner (or so she said) and it was at Nine Dragons. In fifteen minutes. I stood up and shouted “WE’LL TAKE IT!” Not so much because I was excited but because otherwise she wouldn’t have heard me over the din of The Drums Loud Enough to Wake the Dead.
We took off like a shot and made it from Japan to China in just under ten minutes. Stopping only to take a picture perfect shot of Spaceship Earth at sunset from the other side of the lagoon.
Well, it WAS perfect. Until a couple of bozos walked right into my shot.
We made it to our ADR on time and were seated in short order. We’d eaten at Nine Dragons in the past when the kids were really little and we thought the food was great at the time. In fact, I found the recipe for their Honey Sesame Chicken and attempted to recreate it in my kitchen after we’d gotten home. Crashed and burned on that one. Wasn’t pretty. But the Nine Dragons version was delicious. And it didn’t disappoint on this night either. The food was good. We were all pleased with our meals. The kids were especially pleased that they were served chicken in a boat dish.
Because, let’s face it. You could serve kids beets with a side of hominy and throw it in a really cute dish and they’d think it was cool. So the dishes were good. The service was good. It was all good. The only problem was that they packed us in the restaurant like a bunch of sardines. Mama no like. I like to have some personal space during dinner. Not so here. DH’s elbow was one wrong turn away from addin’ a little extra BAM! to his neighbor’s won ton soup. I was so close to the father of the family seated next to us, I actually helped him chew his food and then burped him afterwards.
Unintentionally.
But even though we were in close quarters, we enjoyed our meal and were pleased with Nine Dragons. We’d been served a good, hot meal at a table service restaurant without having an ADR during Spring Break. And that was way more than we could’ve asked for. Not to mention the Honey Sesame Chicken was off the hook.
We made a few stops along the way to our final destination that night: a spot for Illuminations. As per yet another family tradition, we stopped in Germany to load up on some goodies to take back home with us. Our daughter discovered the gingerbread man with chocolate dipped Mickey ears they sell in Germany (quite the find that night for her) and made quick work of the ears. While the boy scored a big Toblerone. And then sat down and cuddled the Toblerone. Talked to the Toblerone. Patted the Toblerone and called it sweetheart.
He did all this while we sat in our perfect spot between the twin gift shops and waited for Illuminations to start. Time had crept up on us and it was hard to believe our day had almost come and gone. One of the things we hadn’t had time to do earlier was to venture into Mouse Gear to let the girl spend the rest of her souvenir money. The boy had already blown through all of his and was content to sit with his father and lick the Toblerone bar while I took the girl on a last minute mission.
I didn’t feel like walking all the way to Mouse Gear and back since it was getting close to 9:00 so the girl and I ventured into one of the twin gift shops. When we walked in the place, my normally indecisive as all get out daughter (at least when she’s in the toy department at WalMart), scoured the shelves for something. Not just anything. Something. She was on a mission and she meant business. She looked near the pink princess gear but it wasn’t there. She checked out the area adjacent to the candy. Not there either. She briefly let her fingers rest longingly on a new coloring book, but said she really wanted something else and that she had just enough “monies” left to get it.
As it turns out, once she finally found what she was looking for and melted into a puddle of excitement on the floor at seeing it, holding it, rocking it, kissing it, she and I both realized that she did NOT have “just enough monies” left on her card for it. Her face immediately fell and I knew she was seconds away from the most pitiful cascade of tears ever. She wanted that Baby Minnie. In the worst way. She mentioned something about Mickey needing a little sister and how she needed to be with her "fambly". There was but one thing to do. The girl and I marched up to the counter and Mama spotted her the money for one sweet little Baby Minnie. With her soft, pink little blanket. The same one she’d wanted in the Poly gift shop on our first night. The same one she had kissed and set back on the shelf. The same one she’d talked about ever since. The girl was on Cloud Nine that her little fambly was now complete. And I was on cloud nine just watching the happiness roll off her. What a great night that was. We picked up a few other little goodies as well and after checking out, we made our way back to find the boys.
We arrived just in time to see the torches being blown out by the Invisible Man. Man, I love that part. This was the moment we’d been looking forward to the most all day. Illuminations, for us, is always the perfect way to cap off an awesome day in the place we love so much. Epicot. Our Epicot. We have come to anticipate each explosion in the show and we know the music by heart. And unlike everything that we’d done that day in Epicot, all four of us love Illuminations equally. So at the end of this day that had been filled with such wonderful and unexpected blessings, we stood with our arms around each other in a loving embrace and took in the familiar spectacle that is Illuminations: My husband, me, our son, our daughter, Baby Minnie and the Toblerone.
And a little British boy.
Who smelled like he’d just eaten a big bowl of turd soup.
He’d bulldozed his way through the middle of us around the time the globe made its appearance and promptly helped himself to a spot we’d saved for nearly an hour. After he’d set up shop in the midst of our family, his mom’s arm suddenly appeared from the space between me and my husband. One minute we’re enjoying the family togetherness, listening to the pace of the music slow as the scenes begin to flash across the face of the globe and the next we’re watching a forearm wave erratically between us as the fingers fan out and claw at the air in a blind, fevered search for its offspring. She made contact and put the sleeper hold on him. With one hand. He shoved The Forearm away and yelled “NO! I want to stay!”. As he inched further away from her and in the process, shoved the girl out of her space. So I tapped him on the shoulder and told him he needed to move over and let her back in. Which he did. Briefly. Now, let me say that both my husband and I are of the mindset that whenever possible, kids should get front row positions for things like this. Because they’re shorter. For other reasons too but we’ll just go with shorter for the time being. So we didn’t necessarily mind him getting in front of us. But we also believe that once the child is given the go ahead for the Stand in Front, said child shouldn’t start shoving other kids out of the way just so they can have a lil extra elbow room.
Or smell like poo.
As we stood there holding our noses and trying to watch the lasers and the fake out ending, The Forearm swooped in for Round Two. There was a bit of a struggle, followed by a much more violent smack down and a loud cry of “But MUMMY! I can see puhhhhh-fectly from hee-ya!!!!”
Which has, curiously, become our family’s battle cry when we really don’t want to do something. The only condition is that it has to be spoken with a perfect fake British accent.
NOGwynethPaltrow.
Eventually The Forearm gave up. None of us were surprised. You shouldn’t be either.
We watched the rest of the show in relative peace and managed to take a few shots along the way.
And just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.
In more ways than one.
Normally, our last night in Disney is spent at Epicot. And we always watch Illuminations on those nights. Always. So it was fitting that our last night of vacation in Orlando was spent following that tradition. As is always the case, once the smoke has cleared and we’ve turned to join the mass of humanity walking toward the exit, I felt a little sad. Sad that this walk toward the exit symbolized the drawing to a close of our vacation. Sad because I knew it would most likely be a very long time before we were able to be in that place again. But mostly sad that the flowers flanking my front door would never look like these, no matter how much Miracle Gro I used.
We made it back to our resort without incident. Well, other than DH driving us out of Disneyworld. On purpose. Again.
Sigh.
As we got cleaned up, we talked about our day and dug into the snacks we’d picked up from Germany and then fell happily into bed. But not before the girl had tucked her now complete sweet little family of four into bed and kissed each one on the nose.
Apparently Mickey, Minnie, Michael and Marie had quite the memorable day and as they went to bed that night, they were extremely grateful for their many blessings.
NOLaLas.
Up Next: The Last Day
