Chapter Twenty Four: The Modern English Dole Whip Story
After my little girl kicked Peter Pan and his manly green tights to the curb, we were left wondering what to do. For dinner. I am of the opinion that there is but only
ONE counter service restaurant in the Magic Kingdom worthy of the time spent in line: The Tomorrowland Noodle Station.
But alas, that had been converted to the Tomorrowland Noodle Buffet during this frenzied period of Free Dining and since we’d already used some table service credits there, we didn’t want to go back.
Also, the Tomorrowland Noodle Buffet, like Cosmic Rays, was on the
other side of the park. And I was just kidding about the Tomorrowland Noodle Buffet nee Terrace. Not about it being a table service buffet during Free Dining. Sadly, that wasn’t a joke. Go figure.
We had raced past Cosmic Rays in our effort to get my daughter over to Adventureland for her face-to-tights meeting with the creepy guy in the cheap red wig. And as much as I love Cosmic Rays, I had no intention of schlepping (yes, schlepping) back across the MK to eat there. This was our night on the
other side of the park. So we settled for Pecos Bills. Primarily because of the fixins bar. And because it was there. You understand this is how Gerald Ford became president, right?
FYI: they no longer have melted cheese on the Pecos Bills fixins bar. Which now renders it useless. Like Jimmy Carter.
It was a warm night that night. It was, after all, September. But still. That night was warmer than the previous night. As I pushed the chair towards Pecos Bills, I anticipated the first cool blast of air conditioning we’d feel when we crossed the threshold.
But it was not to be.
When we got inside the building we were rudely slapped in the face with warmer air. Warm, moist air, heavy with the smell of burgers, beans and sautéed onions. Maybe the fixins bar is more relevant than Jimmy Carter after all? Well at this point, who isn’t?
The food at Pecos Bills is serviceable. In that regard it reminds me a little of Le Cellier. It was neither good nor bad. Just predictable theme park fare. Not to be confused with Scarborough Fair. Or even Mickey's Toon Town Fair. Where you should head anytime you need a hug from Mickey.
Which always sounded a little creepy to me.
I wonder what happened to that guy. Is he doing Broadway now? Is he playing Valjean in the national tour of Les Misérables? One day your peddling park hoppers on Resort TV; the next you're 24601.
The real kick in the face about Pecos Bills’ menu is the lousy dessert option. Not plural, not options. Option. One option. One
lousy option. It was some sort of chocolate “cake” with peanut butterish icing. Or some such crap.
Of course I took it. It was free, remember? But that doesn’t mean I had to like it. I don’t remember what, if anything, Pecos Bills served for dessert before the advent of the insipid dining plan, but this so-called dessert was so mediocre it might as well have been lo-carb. Or running for president.
I hear tell that beggars can’t be choosers. However, while the plan is cleverly described as “Free” Dining, because I paid rack rate for the room and full price for the tickets, I can hardly be called a beggar. And even if the food was free, that’s no reason not to criticize it. I don’t pay for the food when we have dinner at a friend’s house. But that’s never stopped me from complaining about the dried out chicken or flavorless pasta the minute the car door closes and we are backing out of their driveway.
Actually, my wife can tell whether I like the food when we eat at someone’s house based on the following observations. If I eat the bread it means: I’m hedging my bets. More than one helping of either the potatoes or salad means: the food sucks, I’m filling up on safe stuff. Indeed, if I
EVER eat salad at someone’s house it’s because the main course was less appealing than the so-called comprehensive immigration reform bill.
To the handful of you who actually know me in real life: I’ve always LOVED the food at your house. You’re a
GREAT cook! I only ate salad because you served it first. Not because of the other reason.
After dinner, we met back up with my sister and brother-in-law and their kids and we headed to Pirates. My daughter had never cared for this ride. Too dark. Too scary. Too watery. But since her cousin was going, she wanted to go too. My wife didn’t want to ride because although the splash hill is small, she didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks.
I carried my little girl through the lline and reminded her that it was all make-believe. Like the report that saccharine causes cancer. I warned her that the beginning would be kind of dark and there was a scary face we’d see. But it was all fake and it was supposed to be funny. Not scary. We climbed into our boat and I heard her repeat to her cousin, “it’s not scary, it’s funny.”
This was the first time we had ridden it since “the change.” Such that it was. If only my mom’s menopause was as hard to detect. But for the first Davy Jones effect and the three Johnny Depp audio-animatronics and the selections from the movie soundtrack, it was pretty much the same as before. I had read about the Davy Jones effect before we went. It sounded cool. In fact it was. It was pretty darn amazing. Fortunately, my daughter thought it was funny not scary. She thought the rest of the ride was funny as well. We got off and she asked if we could ride again. She’s spoiled now. She thinks we can ride any ride she likes at least twice in a row. I asked my wife if she was ok waiting some more and she said she was. My sister hung back with her. My brother-in-law and I took the kids and we rode Pirates again.
The leg dangling pirate is not Ron by the way.
After that, we took a much needed restroom break. You’ll be relieved to know that’s all there is to this story. Number 1s all around, you understand.
Next, we rode the Jungle Cruise.
Nothing funny or interesting happened.
Sorry.
I know that’s hard to read. But don’t go numb on me. Take the fork out of your arm. I’ve got a great Dole Whip story coming up for you.
It’s not that great. Don’t get your hopes up.
It’s so un-great in fact, I’ll probably forget to write about it. So the real surprise will be whether I write about my first Dole Whip or not.
Even I’m bored now.
Moving on.
It was nearing time for Spectromagic so we motored back to Frontierland to find a good viewing spot. Which we did. No sooner had we settled in when I felt a drop. I looked around and spotted a little shack from which they hawk DVC. Because Disney’s Best Kept Secret™ fits so well with the American frontier theme of Frontierland. You understand lots of pioneers headed west in search of fractional ownership opportunities in vacation property. The Oregon Trail was blazed by Lewis and Clark seeking to own a piece of the magic. Yes, it's true, the frontier was tamed by men desperate to be welcomed home.
We headed over there and set up shop under the roof. We had a good view of the parade and if the rains came hard, we were protected.
Parade means food to me.
So I abandoned my family like Joey Buttafucco and headed off to fetch me one of those Dole Whips I’ve read so much about. I confess, until this trip, I had no clue what a Dole Whip was. Whenever I read about it on here, I just assumed it was that orange juice and ice cream thing they sell at the Sunshine Tree Terrace by the Tiki Birds. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out why they called that a Dole Whip. Dole sells pineapple. Not oranges. But since Disney calls Stich’s Escape a “Fastpass,” and calls a bus a “motorcoach,” and calls the AllStars a “Resort,” and calls the Tomorrowland Noodle Terrace a "Buffet" during Free Dining, I figured they would also call an orange drink a Dole Whip.
Our Frontierland parade watching perch was close to the cut-through into Adventureland. I walked up to the counter at Sunshine Tree looking for the words Dole and Whip in any combination. Not finding any Doles, Whip, Bob, Liddy or otherwise, I asked a Cast Member where I could find a Dole Whip. She sent me towards Aloha Isle at the front of Adventureland.
It occurs to me now that she stands there for
that very reason. Because 200 times a night some lost looking yobo walks up and inquires about a Dole Whip.
Let’s experiment with something. Let’s all agree that Tonga Toast is the best breakfast food ever created. Let’s all write about it in our Trip Reports. And everywhere else we can. But let’s not give away the actual and correct name of the restaurant in Disney World that serves Tonga Toast. Or even the name of the restaurant that serves Tonga Toast’s ugly stepsister with the entirely too creative name: “banana-stuffed French Toast.” Let’s suggest that Tonga Toast is served at Crystal Palace, the Tomorrowland Noodle Terrace and the Hess Station. Thousands of people each day will attempt to order Tonga Toast at Crystal Palace, the Tomorrowland Noodle Terrace and the Hess Station. Before long, signs will be posted in front of each of those restaurants: “We do not serve Tonga Toast. Tonga Toast is only available at the ______ ______.”
The first person to see that sign at Disney World, send me a PM and I will send you a special prize.
It is very dark in Adventureland. Since Adventureland lacks any thrill rides, perhaps the adventure to which it alludes is the thrill of not stepping on small children as you chase down a cool treat in the dark of night.
The whole “I’m gonna get a Dole Whip” thing is a product of too many hours spent reading the Disboards. I know LaLa has written about her quest for a Dole Whip as well. Which really makes her life look kind of pathetic, don’t you think? By comparison, I wasn’t really in search of a Dole Whip as much as I was fixin to watch a parade and wanting a cool treat. Finding no DQ nearby, a much ballyhooed Dole Whip seemed intriguing.
I got to the Aloha Isle and read the menu as I stood in line. It was then I discovered that a Dole Whip is not just one thing. There is more than one Dole Whip. If anyone had mentioned that before I missed the salient details. Having no clue which of the two Whips was the preferred and oft-discussed Whip, I opted for both.
The CM handed me the two Whips and then swiped my card. But the ice-cream was melting faster than Harry Reid and Nancy Pelosi. I walked back to Frontierland licking both Whips in my futile attempt to keep them from dripping down my hand onto my shoes.
Shoes. Not flippies. I’m not stupid.
By the time I got back to our perch under the DVC sales shack, half of both Whips were gone. I handed my wife her half-eaten Dole Whip and she looked at me like I just suggested we eat dinner at Denny’s.
“I don’t want that,” she said.
“It’s good,” I said.
“Evidently,” she said. “You ate half of it.”
“I had to, to keep it from melting.” I explained.
“You didn’t do a very good job,” she said, pointing to my ice-cream drenched hands.
“Just try it,” I pleaded. “I’ll finish what you don’t like.”
“Big surprise,” she said. She slapped me twice with her eyes. She threw her hip into it as well.
She wasn’t all that enamored of the Whip. She sampled it. Said it was "good" the way you do when you really don't like something. "Mmmm. This chicken is
so good. But I love this salad! Is there more bread?
For my part, I thought it was pretty freaking good. I scarfed mine down and then finished off hers. Then I turned and snuck a lick off the Whip of the lady standing next to me.
But only to keep it from melting.
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Click Here For Chapter Twenty Five
You are a breath of fresh air in multiple ways. Your witness is applaudable and though we never want to experience His "severe mercy", isn't it some sort of comfort to know that it is, in fact, mercy.
(This coming from an accountant, mind you
)
We stayed at the Poly a long time ago and saw it on the menu but didn't order it. I like your idea though. Purchase your Tonga Toast at the Turkey Leg stand at MGM!!! 
...or at Chef's de France... or at the secret Tonga Toast stand located behind Space Mountain. 
