We busted up in the palatial cave known as Mythos about half an hour early for our lunch reservation that day.
Which is SO not like us.
In fact, it’s the anti-us, being early for a reservation. That’s what that whole “overdue” thing’s all about. But I guess it was only fitting, seeing as how we were vacationing in “the other place” and had been actually
relaxing on this trip instead of running around like chickens with our heads cut off. Not to mention the fact that I had been the one who’d gotten raged up in a crowded, hot theme park that morning and not DH. Heck, it was turning out to be a virtual Opposite Week with us.
Well, kind of. I wasn’t wearing his clothes and he wasn’t wearing mine.
Shudder.
Some lines are just not meant to be crossed.
Because we were hot, tired and hongry, we were glad to hear the hostess tell us it would be no problem to check in early. She took our name and motioned for us to have a seat at the front of the restaurant for a few minutes while they got our table ready. We sauntered up to the front of the joint and copped a squat on what can only be described as a bridge from one overgrown upside down anthill to the next. It was actually a bench. Cleverly disguised as a mound of orange-ish dirt. Or a rock. In a cave. Something. Who knows. All I know is it felt good to sit down. We waited for roughly ten minutes and then we were ushered into the restaurant.
Just like that.
The place was pretty dadgum cool.
In fact, the only other time I’d been so impressed and surprised by the interior of a restaurant was when we had lunch in Cinderella’s castle several years back. Back before they automatically took your wallet upon entering and just helped themselves to everything in it without so much as a halfhearted apology. Back when you could actually order from a real menu. Back when it only counted as one table service credit. I remember walking into the restaurant (at CRT: stay with me) and hearing our entire family
ooh and
ahh over the building and décor. And those windows. Those beautiful windows overlooking Fantasyland. Our eyes darted from one side of the room to the next as we took it all in. It was the only time we’ve ever been overwhelmed by the looks of a restaurant’s interior.
Until we happened upon Mythos.
Granted, it’s no Cinderella’s castle. Or Texaco deli. But we were highly impressed with Mythos. The place rocked. We were ushered to a window seat (without even having to ask for one: SCORE!) where we spent the next hour looking out on all the suckas getting’ their scream on.
They brought a round of bread and butter to the table and when it came time to place our orders, I had a really hard time deciding. The menu is incredible and it all looked great but I finally went with the Pastabilites dish. It changes daily and on that particular day, it happened to be Pork Pad Thai.
What’s up with me and the pad thai? Even I don’t know. Apparently I didn’t have enough fun saying Shrimp Pad Thai the night before. Besides, Pork Pad Thai is so much more fun to say. Go ahead. Say it out loud. Pork Pad Thai. You know you want to. No one’s listening anyway. Knock yourself out.
I’ll wait.
Anywho.
Turns out I made a pretty good call on the pasta dish because it was amazing. It was served with a spring roll and some sort of asian sauce drizzled on the plate. It was so good my eyes rolled back in my head and I picked the dang plate up and licked it clean. The waiter walked by and I paused in mid lick to throw out “Yall got any a' that there faincy Fuji water?”
DH added "Bring us a round and put it on Sea Bass’s tab".
After I called him Flo and asked him what the soup du jour was.
And then giggled.
DH ordered the Cowboy BBQ Smokey Steak Sandwich and his entire body went limp with the first bite. Soon after he recovered and they finished mopping up the drool, he declared it the best burger/sandwich he’d ever had. Of course, I don’t have a picture of it because after getting busted on the Flying Unicorn for my camera shenanigans, the family had forbidden me to take any pictures of their food. Or of them. In the presence of others. Ever again. Big bunch of spoil sports. Even the kids vetoed the food picture taking during that lunch. Which might explain why I don’t remember what they had. I’m pretty sure it involved fries though.
Fries and ketchup. A bun of some sort. And possibly some cheese.
The bottom line for our Mythos experience is this: when you fly a sign out front that lays claim to the title of “#1 Theme Park Restaurant in the World”, you better darn well be able to back it up. And although I’m not sure if I’d go so far as to wholeheartedly agree with that title (they’ve got some stiff competition just in Epicot alone), I will say that Mythos was definitely one of the best theme park restaurants we’ve had the pleasure of dining in. In my opinion, the food was head and shoulders above Emeril Lagasse’s restaurant the night before and the prices were extremely reasonable. The building was very cool and the service was great. If not a little on the slow side. We walked away very glad we’d decided to eat at the home of the big ole floating vomiting face carved into stone and made a mental note to return there each and every time we come back to IOA.
If only for the opportunity to sit on a big rock and say “Pork Pad Thai” out loud again.
Once we left the restaurant, we made a beeline for the Jurassic Park area.
Our first stop was the Jurassic Park Discovery Center.
This is a really cool interactive area and the kids were looking forward to…well, discovering. The Center. It was the perfect place for them to have a little hands on fun and get primed for our impending float down Dinosaur River.
Jurassic Park Discovery Center. It’s the new amuse bouche.
Upon entering the joint, we were greeted by two dinosaur “skeletons” that looked very familiar. I didn’t find out until we’d gotten back home that those dinosaurs were actually used in the movie and that Spielberg had a hand in helping design the area so it would feel and look authentic to the movie.
Talk
about spared no expense.
We hung around for awhile, letting the kids guess which kind of dinosaurs were contained in the eggs and taking pictures of us screaming our heads off and pretending to run away from the T-Rex. Like the big dorks that we are. Then we discovered there’s an area where you can watch a dinosaur egg “hatch”. We figured the kids would get a kick out of that so we stood around for awhile like big dummies waiting for it to happen. Watching the eggs. Waiting and watching. Blinking and breathing. Watching. Sighing. Twiddling our thumbs and saying “I wonder when it’s gonna hatch.”
After a few minutes of this nonsense, I found someone who worked there and cornered him in pursuit of the 411.
Me: Hi. Can you tell me when the next dinosaur egg will hatch?
Him: No maam.
Me:
stunned silence followed by an unmistakable narrowing of the eyes and head tilt to the side
Him: Only nature can decide when the next dinosaur egg will hatch, not man.
Me: Well, can you tell me when “
nature” (I used air quotes and rolled my eyes here) will decide to hatch another dinosaur egg?
Him: Ten minutes.
Me: That’s all I needed to know. ‘Preciate it.
Ten minutes later (on the dot), we witnessed the miracle of birth. Sorta.
After seeing his little tiny head pop out, I put my hand over my mouth, began walking backwards and screamed “You’re breeding raptors?!” But only in my mind. The kids thought it was cool as all get out. Which should probably come as no surprise. Especially where the boy’s concerned.
Our son has always been fascinated with dinosaurs. Or, as he called them when he was much younger, saur-saurs. His room was decorated with them at one time and he had a saur-saur themed birthday party the year he turned three. To this day, he can name them all (by their scientific names) and give you a rundown on their diet and habitat. And he was
completely fascinated by this area of the park. Needless to say, he LOVES the movie Jurassic Park, as do we. We love the music and it’s always been one of our favorites. The first one anyway. Not so much the others. So we’d really been looking forward to riding Jurassic Park River Adventure on this trip.
Before we left, we watched some ride videos on
YouTube and had gotten really excited about it. Of course, we knew there was a long drop and I’d even gone so far as to count the seconds between the time I first heard the terrified peeps screaming as they began their descent to the time they “touched down”. And then I did the same for Splash Mountain. As a comparison. That's how I roll. It was all for the kids, of course. Turns out, both rides came in somewhere around five seconds each. Five seconds per fall. The proof’s in the puddin’. River Adventure would be no different than Splash Mountain. NO DIFFERENT AT ALL. I had declared.
Or would it?
In all my well thought out figurin', the one little detail I failed to take into account is the fact that Jurassic Park is roughly thirty feet taller than Splash. Which means in order to travel thirty feet longer in the same amount of time, you have got to be MOVING. At an almost vertical plane.
I would think, anyway. I didn’t do so well in Physics. Math. Chemistry. Woodshop. Home Ec. Driver’s Ed. I kicked butt in the Spelling Bee in the fourth grade though. Just in case anyone’s forgotten and needs reminding.
As we worked our way through the queue for the Jurassic Park River Adventure (we had a small wait even with the Express passes: the noive!), we reminded the kids that it was going to be just like Splash Mountain with some funny little dinosaurs along the way. DH told the kids he wanted them to keep their eyes open and the girl promised she would. The boy was exuding the “I ain’t skeered” vibe. He even turned his hat around backwards as we waited in line. And said "Come awn!" To no one and everyone all at the same time.
One of the things we loved about Universal is the sense of humor they've got going on. They know their competition well and they throw out Disney references left and right. So it’s no surprise that both my husband and I were DED where we stood when we heard the preshow announcer remark “I hope we never lose sight of one thing. It all started with a mosquito.”
We laughed out loud for a few minutes. And then repeated the joke to each other. The way you do when you’re really impressed with the cleverness of a joke. As we looked around us, we noticed we were the only ones laughing. For some odd reason. Apparently we were the only people in our immediate vicinity with enough Disney geek in us to actually get the joke and find it funny.
Weirdos.
Them. Not us.
Just to clarify.
We boarded our boat and within minutes, we were floating down the river, entering the enormous Jurassic Park gate and hearing that familiar music surround us as we anticipated what the ride would bring.
From the moment we entered the gate, we were in awe of the theming of this ride. It really was first rate. Top notch. The cat’s meow. And three other things that all mean the same thing. Before long we found ourselves climbing the hill (uh oh!) and were seconds away from being eaten alive by the T-Rex when we took off like a freakin’ shot down the chute. It was really fast and steep and I held on
FOR DEAR LIFE to the restraint in front of me. Like I was gonna fall out or something. The whole way down I was thinking “Get me offa this thing before I die” Actually, I wasn’t thinking at all. You don’t have time to think up there. If you think, you’re dead.
We got off and the first thing I said was “Mama was
WRONG, babies! I am
so sorry about that.”
The first thing DH said was “Splash Mountain’s a CHUMP compared to Jurassic Park.”
The first thing the boy said was “Mom, you have my Alabama hat, right?”
And the first thing the girl said was “I wanna go AGAIN!”
Yeah, it was WAY faster and longer than Splash. What the heck was I thinking?! But it was
so much fun. We loved it.
LOVED...
IT.
Every one of us. We all clapped and laughed for a few minutes after we’d touched down. The girl even went so far as to give it the thumb straight up in the air/head nod seal of approval. And in her world, that really means something.
We made our way through the dump shop on the way out where we stopped to check out our picture. Like we always do. With camera in hand. The second ours came up, both my husband and I literally doubled over in the middle of the gift shop and slapped our hands on the counter a few times. It was completely involuntarily and once we started, we couldn't stop for a few minutes. I honestly could not BREATHE I was laughing so hard. In fact, I think I ruptured something in my head. Because staring back at us from the computer monitor was the worlds’ funniest ride picture EVER. We all looked like a bunch of crazies who just escaped from the loony bin. Every single one of us. Including everyone around us. I’m telling you, if you want to see a funny ride picture, take a spin on Jurassic Park and then come out and take a gander at your lil' photo. You’ll laugh yourself toothless. So I did what I always do when I see a ride photo I like. I pulled out my camera, aimed it at the screen, and instead of hearing my shutter click, I heard this instead:
“YOU CAN”T TAKE A PICTURE OF THAT!!!!!!! PUT THE CAMERA AWAY, MAAM!”
Cold busted.
What is UP with the camera police today?!
I could tell by the look in her eyes I wouldn’t be able to push it with her. Homechick meant business. I didn’t feel like gettin’ jackslapped over a photo so I sheepishly put my camera away and joined my family in the traditional LaLa family post camera violation dance. Otherwise known as the “sidestep it out the nearest door without making eye contact with anybody in the building."
Once again, I was publicly humiliated and once again, my family gave me a round of “You shunta done that, Mom!” Sadly, there would be no Redneck picture taking on this ride.
We were tempted to get our JP ride on again but instead decided to stroll around the park and see what else we could get into. We strolled and paused to take a few pictures along the way.
I loved the area known as Toon Lagoon. Loved it. Not necessarily because of any particular ride or attraction. But because although I’d never been there before, it still felt somewhat familiar to me. Like a lot of kids growing up in the seventies and eighties, I’m sure, I spent a good bit of time reading the Sunday comics. I looked forward to coming in from church on Sundays, enjoying Mama’s cooking and then settling into a chair on a quiet afternoon (after pulling kitchen duty, of course) and reading the Sunday paper. Specifically, the comic section. I spent more Sunday afternoons than I care to remember with Snuffy Smith, Cathy (and her crazy mad love for ice cream), Blondie and Dagwood, Beetle Bailey and the Family Circus. Those were some good times. We turned a corner and they were all there. In full blown technicolor and larger than life. No longer trapped between the sales circulars and classifieds. We walked around, remembering our friends from the Sunday funnies and my husband and I deemed the area pretty darn cool. What I think I liked the most though were all the little conversation bubbles mounted around the joint. They were perfect for standing underneath and getting your message across without ever having to open your trap.
We kept looking for another sign near this one that said "Who are we kidding? You know we don't really mean it. We know we don't really mean it. It's nothing personal. We just don't like you enough to go on vacation with you. End of story."
Since we were already wet from our ride on JP, we decided to go ahead and throw caution to the wind and got in line for Pluto’s Bilge Rat Barges.
Aka: Kali River Rapids.
Or, as I would’ve named it if I was in charge of naming stuff, “The Shower”. Seriously. They may as well just cut to the chase and call a spade a spade. Because when we stepped off that ride, there was
not one single inch of our bodies that was not soaking wet. We couldn’t have gotten any wetter had we decided to swim the English Channel.
But you know what? We were having a blast. I have no idea what's so dadgum funny about getting soaked to your undies on a ride in a theme park. But it was very funny. Even if we didn't understand it, we threw our heads back and laughed. Hard. So what if our shoes were squeaking and we were leaving a trail of water everywhere we walked? So what if the hand dryer in the women’s room looked at me and said “Say what?” when I cozied up to it and turned the nozzle around in an attempt to partially dry my soaking wet shirt. And hair. Heck with it. I wasn't wearing white and we didn't know anybody there. We were on vacation, dangit. We’d squeak and we’d drip for the rest of the afternoon. Or at least until we dried out.
But one thing we knew was that THAT wasn’t going to happen until after we rode THIS bad boy.
Make no mistake. There ain't no "do right" about it. Dudley did us
wrong!
The kids had begged to ride it earlier but at the time we were still dry and had no interest in getting wet. So we skillfully diverted their attention to another attraction. While giving each other the high five behind the back. Now, standing there dripping wet and wearing four “who gives a flying flip how wet we are? We’re having fun, dangit!” grins, we kicked it on into the Universal Express line. Ready to walk straight onto the car and get our ride on.
There was only one small problem. Instead of hopping right into a car, we came to a dead stop.
But we have Universal Express passes! We’re not supposed to have to wait!
But we did. We waited for quite a while, as a matter of fact. At one point the line for the regular non pass having suckas seemed to be moving faster than ours. What was up with that? We decided not to focus on it and instead turned our attention to a lil sumpm sumpm I like to call Thumb War.
For the next ten minutes or so, the boy and I battled. With just our thumbs. As DH stood on the sideline licking his lips. With his eyes peeled. Waiting for any opportunity to jump in and whip up on somebody with his oversized and freakishly strong thumb. He stood at the ready, waving it around. Warming up. I eventually threw him a bone and let DH and the boy battle it out. As I stood there and watched them laugh and cut up, I smiled. I know it may sound corny, but in that moment, that one little seemingly uneventful moment, time stood still. It was just the four of us there, together. The way it should be. Laughing and enjoying life. We were soaking wet but we didn’t care. We were having a good time on vacation. And I think it's a succession of those little seemingly uneventful moments strung together that makes getting away from it all and reconnecting with the ones we love special. Even if it involves making up your own rules for Thumb War while passing the time in line with wet hair and squeaky flip flops.
We eventually found ourselves boarding a little car and taking off on Ripsaw Falls, where we were treated to yet another shower. With our clothes on. But it was all good. Because wherever there’s laughter, I consider it a good time. And there ended up being plenty of it that day.
The last land for us to explore before heading out was Marvel Super Hero Island.
We walked through, taking in the sights and came upon the super heroes signing autographs. The boy went nuts when he spotted Captain America.
Forget Spiderman and the Hulk. Even the Green Lantern (whoever he is) pales in comparison to Captain America. He's the coolest of the cool.
Or...was. The coolest of the cool.
The girl wasn’t really feelin’ the Super Hero love so she waited with DH by the Hulk while the boy and I got “in line” for Captain America. I use the term loosely because there was no line to speak of. More like a glob of free roaming kids with no concept of the phrase “wait your turn”. As we pulled up, I noticed the people around me and made a mental note of who was there before us so I would know when it was our “turn”. One by one, the others visited with Captain my Captain and then it was the boy’s turn. I nudged him, giving him the all clear. But before he could get up there, another kid jumped in front of him. He dropped his head, turned around and came back. I told him it was allright. Chin up. We'll get in there when he moves out. We waited for a minute. Then we’ve got another all clear. Again with the nudge. Again he walks out and is pushed aside by a group of rowdy kids who had partaken of entirely too much sugar. Dangit. Foiled again. The boy returns to the sidelines and through clenched teeth I say "Ain't nothin' but a thang. We'll get there in a minute." Their parents take approximately fifty gazillion pictures and when they finally move out, I turn to my son and tell him in a voice loud enough for everyone around us to hear “Okay, it’s your turn now, son. Everyone else who was here, along with a few others, are long gone. You’re next. Get up there.” As I nudge him forward. It was like driving in New York City. Not that I've ever driven in New York City. Gawd forbid a million times. But it was sheer chaos and if he didn’t push out there and assert himself, he’d be sitting on the sidelines forever. So he rushed up to The Captain, holding out his book for an autograph and before he could make contact, YET ANOTHER kid comes from out of nowhere and jumps in front of him.
What the heck?
When that kid left, I literally took the boy by the arm, holding up my other arm to block any other Miniature LineCutters, and ushered him up to see Captain America.
Finally!
And what did the formerly cooler than cool Captain America do?
He took one look at my son. My son, who had been waiting patiently and playing by the rules and had on three different occasions been passed over, held his arm out and pointed to the side and said "We’re going to form a line over here. Son, if you want a picture, you’re going to have to get in that line.”
The line that was ten feet away and fifteen kids deep in just under one second.
And then he looked at the boy, who held his hands up in protest and ventured a weak “
But I was next.” Captain America countered with “No,
he was.” And with that, he turned his back and pulled another little boy who had literally JUST WALKED UP in to take a picture with him.
WHAT?!
I was livid all over again. Li-vid. I know I probably shouldn’t have been. The characters there have no handlers (at least he didn’t that day) and there seems to be no organization whatsoever. So there’s
no way he could’ve possibly known who was first and who wasn’t. But I’d had enough of the unsupervised kids walking up and just helping themselves. I'd had enough of the unorganized meet n greet. Nothing aggravates me more than blatant line cutters. Well, there are a few things. But I won’t get into those now. I took a few steps toward Captain America and gave my boy some backing. I explained that we’d been waiting there the longest of anyone and that it was INDEED the boy’s turn. And that the reason I knew was because I'd been keeping up with it. And then I heard the little boy’s father speak up and say “It’s true. They’ve been here longer than us. It’s his turn.” And then he motioned his son back over and apologized to both me and the boy. I thanked the father for his politeness and the boy finally got his picture taken with Captain America.
Woo friggin' hoo.
What’s the rule about high expectations? Apparently they also apply to ten year old boys. By that point, he wasn’t really feelin’ the super hero love so much so we set out to find the other half to our four.
Once we’d found them (gawking at the huge net full of stuff that had fallen off people's heads on the Hulk), we decided to call it a day. We headed toward the front of the park and stopped just long enough to get a snack on the way out. After a quick trip into Snookers and Snookers Sweet Candy Cookers to peruse and choose from these sweet lookers…
…we headed off toward our resort by way of Citywalk. Stopping just long enough to catch some dude taking a cat in the hat nap and being awakened to one of the funniest spontaneous character interactions I’ve ever witnessed.
For those of you who may be wondering, that's not an alcove.
All in all, we’d had a really good day. Rage issues, camera policin' and rampant public humiliation aside. We’d made some great memories together, had some good food, and shared more than a few laughs. And to our family, that’s where it’s at. On our way out of the park via the Port of Exit, we smiled as we walked underneath a very fitting reminder.
Indeed it does.
Up Next: Underwater Speakers, Fried Yucca, and The Call That Changed it All. 
This. Looks. Like. HEAVEN. 
Is it wrong to covet food porn from a stranger?
