We had a lot of fun during our trip to Disney World. I’ve gathered some terrible and stupid pictures to share with you. Here we go:
We stayed at the Polynesian, which has extremely polite trash cans:
This thing loves refuse, and wants yours inside it.
I think my favorite animatronic character of all the rides is this fabulously groovy disco scientist on Spaceship Earth:
She’s got it going on, both scientifically and fashion-wise.
On our final day we dropped by Downtown Disney (if you panic because you hadn’t been able to find any Disney Merchandise in the parks, you can come here and get some, too), where I found this disturbing scene (if you can’t tell from the glare, these are princess dresses MADE OF PRINCESSES):
Has anyone else been watching Hannibal? Doesn’t this look like something that could be on that show? In particular, the murderer who was working on a “color palette”? Can’t you just imagine someone whistling creepily to themselves while they made this, maybe repeating “my pretty dolls, my pretty dolls” to themselves over and over? Just me?
Lastly, because it’s the most natural change of subject, here’s a picture of baby as Aurora. I really don’t subscribe to “pink princess pretty girly girl” stuff. I’m not crazy about how gender-specific specific baby items have become. However, when your five year old niece asks for a Sleeping Beauty dress from Santa Claus and hopes that Lydia has one to match, well, then, by golly:
She’s drooling in this picture, which I think makes her more authentic character-wise because you know Sleeping Beauty’s pillow case was nasty with sleep drool.
And while I still DON’T embrace pretty pretty pink for all girls all the time, damned if she didn’t look cute. And, now that she’s being constantly mistaken for a boy, I have to steel myself to fight the power and not feel like I have to always dress her like this. Disney World does weird things to me.
We just got back from a week at Disney World. We went with my sister’s family (mom, dad, 5 year old niece, 2 year old nephew), my sister’s mother-in-law, my sister’s sister-in-law, and my mom. Everyone but Tom, Lydia, and I flew. We drove. Why? Because I didn’t want to deal with airport security with an infant and then didn’t want an infant meltdown on a plane. Also, in order to go on vacation with an infant, you have to bring half your house.
Princess Vespa has nothing on Lydia.
So, we drove. We split the conservatively estimated 9.5 hour trip in to a two day trip. I know everyone knows this but it really is interesting how much easier it is to get somewhere than to come back in terms of enthusiasm. You go from “WOO HOOOO! On our way to the best place ever to have the best time ever! A couple of days of driving is nothing compared to the nice real-world-problem-free time we’re about to have” to “Why there gotta be so much fucking land between here and home? Fuck land.” But we made it there and back easily, with only one true infant meltdown, so I consider that a success.
We decided to stay at one of the nicer hotels on property (Polynesian), mainly because the monorail provides people a way to get from one place to another without having to fold the damn stroller. This meant there’s aggressively helpful bell services, which meant tipping. I’m not a fancy person. I know this shocks most of you. But, every time I have to do it, which is rarely, I astonish myself with how utterly bad I am at tipping people in person. I can sign a receipt at a restaurant, easy, but literally having to hand someone money in a suave, subtle way is not something I’m capable of, apparently. Have you seen the Seinfeld where Elaine tries to tip a restaurant host to get a table right away (it’s the Chinese Restaurant episode)? I’m only slightly less bad than that. I hold the money as if it’s a magic wand, kind of jerk it up and down and brightly declare, in a sing-songy manner, “HERE YOU GO!” Which is only a little better than the approach I’m trying hard to suppress: awkwardly laughing, “HA HA HA!” then yelling, “MONEY!” But I do know that Tipping Anxiety is suffered by many and I console myself that I’m not the only one.
Another realization has to do with the previously mentioned strollers. A stroller provides you with a power you must fight against at all times. A stroller can make the meekest, most polite people monsters. I’m surprised that a comic book supervillain hasn’t been created whose weapon is a stroller and a place he or she needs to be. If you are the one with the stroller you are a sad, suffering human trying to maneuver through the throngs with your equally suffering children. If someone else has a stroller, what an asshole. You must resist the urge to ever so gently plow people over with the stroller, and it’s really hard because here you are with this thing that can totally plow people over.
Speaking of strollers, if you’ve been to Disney World, no doubt you’ve noticed the large number of people on scooters. You don’t have to have any kind of ailment or anything to use one of these things, just some money to rent one. At the beginning of the trip, I look at many of these people and scoff, thinking how silly and lazy it is to have one of these scooters. But mid-week I’m contemplating scooter jacking. There’s a seat! And a basket for your things! And you just scoot around in it and don’t have to move your legs! These people I previously looked down on have become the geniuses of our time in my mind. My sister and I came very close to trying to sit in the strollers ourselves. She even wished that there were strollers big enough for adults and then realized, “oh, wait those are called wheelchairs.” I don’t think anyone caught me, but if someone on a scooter looked at me at the right/wrong time they would see me staring at them as if I were starving and they were a hamburger.
Now we’re home and I’m back to spending much of my time on my butt on a couch. Which I suppose gives me the opportunity to intensely study the art of giving a tip, but knowing me I won’t do that and just panic again like always.
I’m at Disney World this week. I was at Hollywood Studios in the bathroom about to do what I thought was wash my hands until I saw this helpful tip.
Say WHAT!? Wet hands!? RINSE? DRY???? Up to now I’d been smearing soap all over my dry hands and then eating a paper towel – this is saying that’s NOT how it’s done. THANK YOU Brawny brand paper towels for giving me such great tips for how to wash my hands.
Disney sent me a survey about my experience during a trip I will take in June of 2015. I’m not clairvoyant like Disney apparently is, so I did my best to give them the feedback they wanted.
1. Your overall experience and value: It was glurptastic (projected 2015 lingo for “fun”)!
2. Your experience with the rides, shows, attractions, and entertainment: The Carousel of Progress is terribly out of date. There’s not a single mention of the Robotic Revolution in May 2013.
3. Your experience with the characters: Overall, I would say it was nice. However, Mickey Mouse got stuck in “hug mode” and it took them 3 hours to pry me loose.
4. Your experience with the food offered: For the fine dining, the roast futurebeast was delicious. For your quick service establishments, there was much to be desired. I mean, seriously, how long does it take to get a food pill out of the bottle? Quick, my ass.
5. Your experience shopping: The eye scanner nearly blinded me. I’ll just leave it at that.
6. The cast members/employees: All were well-oiled machines and/or properly brainwashed. Kudos.
7. Any special or magical experiences you had: I’d never seen a hover scooter before until now – truly magical. Makes me wish I was fatter.
8. Any challenges or difficulties you encountered: Mission to Actual Mars was great on the way, but once you get there, there’s nothing to do. Bor.ing.
9. Some details about yourself: I live in North Carolina with a vacation home on the moon. I can afford it because I won the lottery. I was also voted Overload of all Dominion – I didn’t even run, it was all write-in votes!
I was expecting a personal call of thanks from an unfrozen Walt Disney from the future, but all I got was an e-mail apologizing for the “error.” Yeah, whatever, Diz, you know I helped. You know it.
Everyone knows what Cinderella’s castle looks like. Plus, screw her and her fancy schmancy high-value location abode. Instead, here’s a random selection of things I found worthy of photographing. And I promise this is the last of squeezing content from the Orlando stone.
These were "pay phones." You used to use them to make phone calls. Now, they are used to decorate awesome dinoaur/Route 66-themed restaraunts.Speaking of vintage dinosaurs, someone please find me this pink ceramic stegosaurus ceramic cookie jar. Christmas is right around the corner.Here's a picture of me, holding my charging phone and a ball of light, wearing my Shaun of the Dead shirt.I want the phrase "nine pound lemons" to replace "brass balls."This dragon dressed as a skunk farted in our faces and made us miss the Touch and Taste segment of the 5 senses tour. Then we had to see him taking a bath on the ceiling of his home. It was a whole ordeal.If I had focused as hard at school as I did helping out Buzz Lightyear, I may have been a better student.This pair of Chip and Dales were from the future. They were looking for someone named John Connor.
