Who knows what evil lurks in the crack of seats?
LaLa knows, that’s who.
I wish I could report that after rummaging around blindly in the seat crack in Shrek that day, I was able to recover any one of the following:
The mate to my favorite black pump, missing for over a year now
My old Milli Vanilli cassette tape (don’t even front, you know you liked ‘em too)
2.8 bazillion dollars
Colonel Sander’s secret recipe
Mel Happyhaunt
What’s left of my dignity
But sadly, I found none of those things. What I did find, instead, was hair (not sure of the origin but I
am sure I don’t want to know), several unidentified bug wings, and the largest, blackest specks of dirt you’ve ever seen in your life. Now, that in and of itself may not be all that bad under normal circumstances. Oh who am I kidding? Of course it is. But it was the way it was presented that did me in. Because I didn’t pull it out with my hand. Like you’d think.
I pulled it out underneath my fingernails.
I’ll give you a minute to compose yourself.
I know I need one.
All that blind scraping and tapping around I was doing had caused the nasty concoction to become lodged underneath my nails. They were like ten little miniature shovels. Full of theme park nastiness. When I pulled my hand back and turned it over, there was just enough light to see the embedded horror. In just under five seconds, I’d gone from a French Manicure to a Filth Manicure. And the best part about it is it was all included in the price of admission. I screamed and passed out at the sight of it. In my head. But as bad as I wanted to abandon the mission and take a SOS pad to my hand, I went in again. Because the girl was still upset about her missing sunglasses. And I still hadn’t found what I was looking for.
NOBono.
I tapped gingerly around in the seat crack, shoving even more gunk underneath my nails. Fighting back the urge to retch the whole time. But I finally felt the tip of the glasses and got somewhat giddy as I attempted to raise them.
Must’ve been similar to what it felt like to find the Titanic.
But not really.
I inched one pair of ultra cool pink Rock Star sunglasses out of the seat crack, holding them between my forefinger and middle finger in a death grip, and the girl’s eyes lit up. Upon further examination, however, we found they were missing an arm. And a lens. And a screw. So I bravely went back in one more time. Found the arm. Along with Elvis’ toenail, Susie Helpershoes’ register journal, and what I believe was a glob of nacho cheese at some point in time. Then I handed the pieces off to Mr. Fix it to attempt to work some Daddy magic while I ran to the nearest bathroom and alternately projectile vomited and scrubbed my entire body from head to toe.
In the little sink.
Although my husband can build a deck, pour a sidewalk and assemble a hulk of a playset all by himself in just under seventy three hours, the man didn’t stand a chance with a pair of cheap sunglasses. Much like Britney Spears’ career, they were beyond repair. We tried to fake the girl out by placing them on her face. All lopsided and missing a lens.
We shot out a weak “You workin’ them glasses”.
But she’s a smart girl and she wasn’t buying what we were selling. So we gave her a hug and consoled her. And blamed it on the rain.
You gotta blame it on something. And from what I hear, the rain don’t mind.
We walked out of the theatre and realized it was around eleven at this point so we thought we’d make the girl feel better by grabbing some lunch with a friend.
Who knew Mel was hiding out at Ersal Studios all this time?!
When we saw it, we knew we had to eat there. Because it was Mel’s Drive In. Mel’s Mel’s Drive In, even. Well, it wasn’t so much that as it was the fact that it was the closest restaurant at the time. It's a good thing our die hard theme park instincts had forced us to get the jump on the rest of the lunch crowd because right as we placed our order, received our food and sat down, the place got really packed really quick.
Since it was Mel’s Mel’s Drive In, we fully expected there to be guacamole, bloody rare buffalo, peas, a huge wheel of brie, and undercooked lobster on the menu. But instead, it was just your average theme park fast food fare.
All I can say is Mel sure knows how to cook a burger. Because they were
really good. As we ate, the kids had fun picking out songs we’d never get to hear on the mini jukebox. And after we finished up, we headed out front to let the girl try her hand at the hula hoops.
With Mel.
Or… someone who looked more like a cross between Sandy and Rizzo than Mel. Besides, Mel would never wear a poodle skirt. Or would she?
With our bellies full, we bid our new friend goodbye and then took off down the street in search of adventure.
The E.T. Adventure, that is.
The sign said there was a 25 minute wait but that was only for the unfortunate suckas without Universal Express passes.
Aka: not us.
We flashed our sweet little resort card keys and entered a different queue. It’s basically like the Fastass line vs. Standby line at Disney. We still had a little bit of a wait with this one but it was minimal. Maybe ten minutes. Tops.
Once the doors opened, we were ushered into the preshow area where we listened to Steven Speilberg, clad in a very stylish (assuming it’s still 1985) bomber jacket, go on and on about somethinother. All I can say is it’s a good thing he makes his living behind the camera and not in front of it. I was asleep by the third minute. All I remember was
blah, blah, blah, E.T.,
blah, blah, blah, Interplanetary Passport. And then we were off. The next set of doors opened. Apparently you’re not allowed to ride a bike these days without first being issued an Interplanetary Passport. And apparently all you need to get an Interplanetary Passport is a first name. If only passing that first driving test at the DMV had been so simple. We gave the attendant working the computer our names, making sure she spelled “LaLa” the correct way, and she handed us our passports.
We had a ticket to ride.
As we entered the next queue area, my jaw literally dropped as I looked around the room. I wish I had been able to take some pictures of the scene but I know there’s no way it could’ve done the place justice. We walked straight into a redwood forest, one that looked just like a scene from the movie. It was dark and cool and as we walked amongst the giant “redwoods”, we could hear crickets chirping. I have to say the theming, just for the queue area alone, was
flat out amazing. It blew us away. Even now, I can’t think of a single ride in Disney that’s any better themed than this one.
We showed our resort cards again and were put on the fast track to a surrey bike ride in the sky. Within minutes, we were stepping on numbers, getting ready to board our bike for our mission to rescue E.T. The ride vehicle itself is very cool. It’s basically a big bicycle with about twelve different seats. Because of the way it’s set up, you can see down below you and all around as well as you make your way through the ride. We took off and within seconds, we were running from the “bad guys” and flying over the city, up toward the moon. Shortly after we took off, the girl noticed something down below her.
“Look Mom, Look Dad, No Parents! The sign says No Parents!”
“Did you see it Mom? It said No Parents! The sign said No Parents!”
“Can you believe that sign said No Parents? Did you see that No Parents sign, Mom? It said No Parents!”
For the rest of the ride, she talked about that No Parents sign. The next day she talked about the No Parents sign. To this day, anytime we mention the E.T. ride, she mentions the No Parents sign. And she smiles.
Between me and you, my baby girl seemed a little too enamoured of a sign banning parents from the premises for my taste but I took a picture of it anyway. To preserve the moment. And because sadly, I know it won’t be too much longer before the concept of “No Parents” is no longer the most unimaginable, foreign, and shocking thing in the world to her.
We saw E.T. at the end of the ride and told him to be good. But what with all the chatter about the No Parents sign, we completely missed the fact that he calls your name out as you pass by. That’s why they needed a name for the Interplanetary Passport. So E.T. could tell you goodbye and call you by name on your way out. Which is a very cool concept. Shame we only found that out our last day because we could’ve had A LOT of fun with that.
The dude in front of us will be right here. Apparently.
Man, we loved that ride. We’ve always loved the music from the movie and it was piped in along the way. So even though it was our first time riding it, it felt very familiar to us. I just can’t say enough good things about it. Simply put, it was the bomb diggity.
After spending some time goofing off in the E.T. dump shop and letting the kids pose in Elliott’s closet and on his bike for a couple of pictures we had no intention of buying, we walked outside and stood around curiously watching Scooby and Shaggy, Curious George and the Man in the Big Yellow Hat dance around on a makeshift stage to “We Got the Beat”. Then we made our way over to Woody Woodpecker’s Nuthouse Coaster
Aka: Goofy’s Barnstormer
As we stood in line, we noticed the standard warning signs.
Nothing out of the ordinary here. Let’s go in for a closer look.
My husband and I were DED where we stood. What’s he been eatin’ out on that boat? Tic tacs?
After our thirty second spin on Woody’s Barnstormer, we got our wires crossed and thought we were in Epicot for a second. What with the dancing fountain….
I giggled when I saw it. I’m not sure why.
By that point, it was time to take a pit stop so we located the nearest restrooms in KidZone (by actually referring to our map) and were quite shocked to find that not only do they have really little sinks there but they also have really little toilets as well.
Really little toilets. They were no more than about six inches off the floor. Which freaked the girl out. They were so small even Elvis could’ve hiked his tail on up there and taken care of bidness if he'd wanted to. He wouldn’t have flushed though. Or left the seat up. Because he lacks the strength and opposable thumbs.
After the girl finished freaking out over the tiny toilet, we doubled back and hit E.T. again. Because we could.
Once we’d landed safely on our planet, we hit the Animal Actors Live on Stage show. And this is where our Universal Express passes really came in handy.
The line for the non Universal Express holders was wrapped around the building. Around the building. Our line, not so much. We waited roughly ten minutes and then we were let into the arena first. FIRST! Now that's what I'm talking about. We were able to claim ANY SEAT WE WANTED for the show. Only after the Universal Express holders were seated were the floodgates opened and the non Express line allowed into the arena. We sat in our simply fabulous VIP seats, directly in front, and watched as the unwashed masses stormed the place like a bunch of ants, fighting for a decent seat.
We watched the scene, then high fived each other and snickered to ourselves. And threw them all the L to the forehead. As we held up our resort card keys and flashed them around for everybody to see. While yelling “Can you deal with
that?!”
Not so much out loud but more to ourselves and in our minds.
The show was really cute and the kids got a kick out of watching all the animals perform.
Especially this one.
Because there aren’t too many things much funnier than an orangutan clad in a towel and a shower cap. Claiming a bright red bra. That's just good comedy.
Once the show let out, we moseyed on over to hit a little Men in Black: Alien Attack.
The sign said there was a 50 minute wait. For everyone else, that is. Not us.
Please. How much do you think we were LOVING those Universal Express passes right about now? Whatever amount you’re imagining in your mind, go ahead and multiply that times ten. That’s how much we were loving the Universal Express.
We flashed our cooler than cool cards to the MIB working the line and were surprised when we were denied entry.
What?!
The problem wasn’t with the cards though. Our beautiful, precious cards. It had more to do with the backpack we were lugging around. There are certain rides at Universal where they will NOT allow you to carry a bag on. MIB happens to be one of them. Instead, they provide lockers free of charge just outside the entrance so you can stow your stuff while you ride. We were informed we’d need to hit the lockers and make our stuff disappear and then come back. Which made me nervous. Because the line for the lockers was fairly long.
I just knew that once we’d stowed our stuff, the line, even for the Express pass, would be long. Okay, who am I kidding? Long-
er. But not to worry. We weren’t in Disney, after all. This was a whole different ball of wax. We made our way to the front of the locker line, followed the directions on the computer screen (it’s all set up on thumbprint recognition: impressive yet scary), found our locker, shoved our overpacked backpack into the little hole (putting my hip into it in the process) and then hightailed it back to Mr. Enthusiasm. And still managed to walk onto the ride in under two minutes.
BOOYA BABY!
Let’s break that down again.
50 minutes vs. 2 minutes.
And that, my friends, is why Universal Express kicks Fastpass butt.
Notice the people stopped checking out the scene on the other side. The non Express side. They had no choice. I’m only stopped because I wanted to be stopped.
We boarded our vehicle, got a quick tutorial on the weaponry and we were off.
The only way I can describe this ride is that it’s like Buzz Lightyear on steroids. Only ten times cooler. As much as I love me some Buzz, and I do love me some Buzz, this one blows Buzz Lightyear out of the water. And it was SO much dang fun.
We wound our way through this huge warehouse (ish) looking street scene, shooting aliens and competing against another group of riders. Even though they tell you to NEVER PUSH THE RED BUTTON, towards the end of the ride, you’re supposed to do exactly that. So it only makes sense that the boy dominated where that little tactic is concerned. For obvious reasons. The first one to push the red button scores a bonus of 100,000 points and although I was all prepared to jump on it, he beat me to it. Apparently he’s the first, the last, the only line of defense against the worst scum of the universe. We celebrated for a second by raising the roof and then without warning, the vehicle starts spinning out of control. Now, normally I ain’t down with spinning. Spinning rides make me want to heave. And not in a good way. But this was really fast. And really fun. My husband and the boy were unfazed but the girl and I both screamed at the top of our lungs the whole time. Each and every time we rode it afterwards (and it was a lot), we girly scream laughed the entire time we spun.
Word to the wise: if you’re wearing flip flops, you might want to dig your toes in and hang on tight to those babies for dear life. Because if not, they just might come flying off. It’s that fast.
Well, at least I think it is. I don’t really remember. Seein’ as how Will Smith flashy thinged everybody. I think.
As we exited the ride, we shimmied on into the sizable dump shop to the tune of Men in Black. I love that song. Always have. Even back when it was just a song about a bunch of forget me nots. And it put a little skip in my step as we walked down the ramp. I may have sung along and did the double clap by my head (you know you do it too) and the girl may have boogied with me for just a second or two. While my husband cracked jokes and we all laughed. And talked excitedly about how cool the ride had been.
To put it simply, we were all in a great mood. Although the moment wasn’t anything special, just the four of us walking around in a dump shop, it was one of my favorite moments of the trip, I think. We’d just discovered ourselves a new favorite and we knew there was much more where that came from. Everything we were doing was all new. New and exciting. And good. Maybe we weren’t immersed in the magic or the familiarity or the nostalgia. But we didn't need to be to have a good time. And we couldn’t wait to hit the rest of the park. After we finished bouncin’ and slidin’, we took a walk over to Amityville, where a bunch of people froze and made their necks work as they watched us hit the Express line and zoom right on past.
It really was ridiculous.
We were at the front of the line in quick order and as we got settled in on the last row of the boat, I immediately thought to myself, “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.”
We made our way around Amity Harbor and my husband and I got a kick out of the driver of our boat. She was extremely into the role and there was just something about the way she pumped the shotgun before she “shot” at Jaws that left us giggling. She was NOT playing around. Mama meant
business. I was a little scared of her. And to be truthful, I think DH was too.
We pulled into the boathouse to hide from Jaws (because of course it’s safe in there) and once the doors closed behind us, I immediately picked up the overpowering smell of exhaust from the engine. The engine that was directly behind us. That last row ain't the ideal place to be when exhaust fumes bring back bad memories of days gone by.
I’ve grown up on the coast and when I was little, my family went out on the boat every weekend. Every single one. Every time we’d go out, my mom would always stuff us full of food. Coming and going. Because she’s a mom and as such, food is her way of nurturing. “Here, little LaLa, have a tuna sandwich. With cheese", she'd say. "And wash it all down with this nice big mug of orange juice I brought along for you. It’s good for you, you know.”
All that would’ve been fine and dandy for a normal picnic. At the beach. Or on a lake. But not on the open seas. With five foot waves. So almost every weekend when I was younger, at some point, I’d wind up seasick. Clenching the side of the boat and heaving into the waves. Good times. The constant in that was always the smell of gas fumes. Exhaust. It’s what I associate being seasick with, even to this day. So as we sat in the boathouse, waiting for Chief Brody to come save us, I got itchy. So I did the only thing I could do to avoid getting the full force of the exhaust fumes in my face and needing to heave over the side of the boat. I held my breath. Well, I kind of held my breath. I held it as long as possible and then took short, little stuttered breaths and craned my neck as far forward as possible. To get to the good air. In other words, I craned my neck right into the personal space of the people in front of us. I don’t think they appreciated it much, to tell the truth. I’ve got a feeling they would’ve appreciated it less if I would’ve started gagging though. And yes, I’ll go to any lengths to remain heave free in a public setting.
Right about the time I was about to tell DH to hand me the fanny pack, the doors opened and we moved on out of there. Not a moment too soon.
We bid Amity Harbor farewell and made our way around the rest of the joint.
The kids and I found ourselves a snack booth and then parked our tails on the curb in front of the Mummy while DH rode. As we waited, we watched Chappie and his friend walk around scaring people.
DH joined us shortly and declared The Mummy to be one of the most fun rides ever. He then volunteered to stay with the kids and let me go but I’m not crazy about riding by myself so I bowed out. At which point, he cautiously asked if he could ride again. I told him to knock himself out. That’s what vacation is for. Vacation and Universal Express, that is. I didn’t have to tell the man twice. He walked off with a skip in his step, eager to get his ride on again.
Because he could.
After he came off the second time, we decided it was time to head back to the resort. We were hot and we were tired and looking for some down time before our dinner reservation. We slowly made our way back to Citywalk and the water taxi dock.
We found the line for the Royal Pacific and within minutes, a water taxi slid up beside us. We boarded, kicked back and enjoyed the beautiful scenery on the easy ride back to our resort.
The day had been one filled with plenty of all new, fun experiences for us. We’d discovered several new favorites and had really enjoyed the heck out of the relaxed pace for a change. In short, the day had been pretty amazing.
But not nearly as amazing as what was waiting for us in our hotel room when we arrived.
Up Next: We (I) let our (my) Redneck show at Tchoup Chop
