Shawn Corkery - November 2000 - Offsite

Time of Year: Fall
Travel Method: Plane, rental car
Resort: Offsite
Accommodations: Standard Room
Ages Represented in Group: Adult
WDW Experience Represented in Group: Infrequent
Comments: Three years in the composition, this epic trip report covers all the high points of a two week trip to Disney World. Theme parks, hotels, NASA, near constitutional crises . .

Shawn Corkery -- November 2000 -- Walt Disney World (Offsite)

Shawn’s Colossal Trip Report to Walt Disney World (3 Years in the Making!)

Trip Dates: Nov. 4 -18, 2000

Cast of Characters

Shawn (me): A Disney fanatic since I was five years old, when my family began visiting Disneyland on an annual basis. This year, I turned 40. To dull the stinging pain of middle age, a trip to WDW was planned.
Terry: My beautiful wife, the One-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed, Lover-of-All-Things-Birds, and Appreciator-of-Disney through my influence, but not a fanatic.
Tina & Matt: Sister and brother-in-law, NASCAR fans and fateful recipients of our tour guide through Central Florida.
Saturday, November 4, 2000 / Day: 1 of 15 / Flight to Orlando (with flashbacks regarding trip planning and needless background information)

The airport shuttle van pulled into the driveway around 6:00 AM. Barely awake and already depleted of energy, Terry and I “dragged our wretched bodies into the dead center of the room” (…sorry, that’s the Haunted Mansion). We dragged ourselves into the airport van, along with our monstrously-sized luggage and collapsed in the back seat. With a slam of the side door, we were off down the 5 Freeway to the SeaTac Airport, to begin our two week adventure at the Wonderful World.

Why were we so exhausted you ask? Terry and I had just bought our first home. We weren’t actually in our new house yet. We planned to move in after we got back from the trip. That's right. We bought a house and then went on vacation. Bad timing? You bet! But it wasn’t our original plan. We had been scheming this vacation for nearly two years. This was a birthday gift for my Big 4-0, to keep me from wallowing in self-pity.

As it turned out, ten months prior to the trip, we became the recipients of a nice inheritance. To say it was a surprise would be an understatement; we were in shock. It was an amazing blessing from heaven. We finally had enough money for a down payment on a house in Seattle (not an easy feat) and enough for minor repairs. The plan was to find a home during the summer, move in, and have a few months under the new roof before we went on vacation. As it turned out, we found the perfect house in the Fall and closed the deal 10 days before flying out to Orlando.

The days before the trip included scheduling an electrician, plumber, handy man, etc. to visit our 30-year-old Rambler. Instead of spending the days before the trip in giddy anticipation (“What ride do you want to go on first?!”) we were trying to figure out what type of carpet to order. In fact, we were at the carpet warehouse until 10:00pm the night before we left. We didn’t start packing for the vacation until we got home that night.

With our heads swirling from home improvement details, last minute packing and three hours of sleep, we arrived at the airport. And then it happened… the “Magic” started (Walt Disney must have heard our prayers). Everything began to go right. After weeks of new home owner anxiety and feeling overwhelmed, our “perfect trip” began to materialize. We arrived at the airport on time and checked-in with no problems. Actually, one of our suitcases was too heavy. Terry and I are on special diets (which we conveniently forgot once we arrived in Florida). We stock piled one of the cases with almond milk (yes, almond milk; not soy milk) and other nonperishable health foods. We were informed we would have to pay an additional luggage charge. Since we had been saving up our vacation money for two years, we simply declared “Hakuna Matata” and paid the fine.

The next sign that we were going have a perfect trip was when the ticket agent explained that he was a big fan of Orlando, and proceeded to write down several vacation suggestions:

If you want good barbecue, stop at a Sunny's (which we did, and we agreed it was good down home chow, but not the best BBQ we ever had).
If you go to Cape Canaveral, stop at Dixie Crossroads for seafood (which we did, and found it to be pretty good, especially the rock shrimp).
If you get tired of theme parks, take in a Jai-Ali game (which we didn’t, but, hey, we didn’t get tired of theme parks).
We walked onto a half-empty airplane, which took off on time and headed southeast to our connection in Denver. Now that we had the chance to sleep, we couldn’t; we were too excited. We pulled out our vacation planning notebook, which we hadn’t looked at in weeks and began to assess the status of our trip. As it turns out, things were good. All of our reservations were in place. We’re timeshare holders with RCI and Terry had booked reservations nearly two years ago. At the beginning of 2000, we were lucky enough to participate in an “airfare war” and secured round-trip tickets for $220/each (woo-hoo!). I made two weeks worth of restaurant “Priority Seating” and had gotten most of dates and times we wanted. Finally, the piece de resistance, we had confirmed reservations for the “Backstage Magic” tour. This was going to be a great trip!

We landed in Denver to an empty airport (have I mentioned how great it is to fly off-season?). After a couple hours of mulling about, we were on our way to sunny Florida. Sleep finally took over and we snoozed through the showing of some sappy romance film with Richard Gere.

The sun had almost set beneath the horizon when we started our decent into the “City That Walt Built.” It felt thrilling, and little strange, to be back in Mickey Mecca. Since I was 11 years old, and received my first copy of “Disney News” magazine, showing the opening of Walt Disney World, I ACHED to visit Orlando. It would be 22 years before I finally had my first visit, but it was worth the wait. My first trip was with Terry, a few months after we had married. It was a business convention for her and a dream come true for me. For the first few days, Terry had to stay at the Swan and Dolphin Hotel with her best friend and business partner, while I was banished to a Super 8 Hotel in Outer Kissimee. I was forbidden to visit any theme parks until the conference was over. No bother. I spent three days inspecting every inch of WDW property. I drove to every hotel, restaurant and shop. I tried to sneak in the back of the theme parks to see what I could find, and almost got in trouble at the Team Disney building, being somewhere I wasn’t suppose to be.

We landed at Orlando International and were soon whisked to the main terminal via the airport People Mover. The “Magic” continued as we grabbed our luggage with no problems (did I mention how great it is to travel off-season?). We walked right up to the counter of the car rental agency and were given an upgrade (we also had a discount through RCI). We were soon racing down Airport Blvd. and onto the 417 Greeneway. It seemed to take forever to get to our exit, but we were soon turning into the Vistana Resort parking lot. If I had investigated the timeshares in the area a little better, I may have tried for another facility. You can’t beat the location of Vistana; just on the other side of the 4 Freeway from Walt Disney World, with two easy entrances onto the Disney property. The timeshare facilities were fine, but during our two weeks there, I always had the feeling that we were staying at a huge apartment complex. We were certainly not lodging at a WDW themed hotel.

Terry feigned a sore back, so I got to drag the monoliths (luggage) up two flights of stairs. Before we unpacked, we rushed down to Hwy. 192 to see if we could find a place that was still open for a late dinner. We were secretly hoping history would repeat itself. The first time we visited Orlando, seven years ago, we flew in on my birthday. We got in so late, the only eating establishment open was an International House of Pancakes (chocolate chip pancakes make for a strange birthday cake). This time, after passing dozens of closed franchises, we saw a neon sign shining on the Outback Steakhouse (did I mention it can be difficult to eat late during the off-season?).

The guardsman at Vistana told us to go grocery shopping at the Super WalMart, since it was open 24 hours. We walked into “Capitalism R Us” and the found the staple items we needed for the next two weeks. While trying to find food that wasn’t canned or processed, I noticed some fresh squeezed orange juice and grapefruit juice, from a local grower. I grabbed a jug of each. Let me tell you, this was the best grapefruit juice I had ever tasted! In fact, of all of the meals, snacks and beverages we had on our trip, this was the best thing, by far! We went back to WalMart a couple times, but they were always out of the grapefruit juice. So now, this juice stands in my mind as one of those incredible unattainable items that you have to tell everyone about. Of course, I forgot to write down the name of the grower!

We got back to our timeshare around 1:00am. Should we sleep or unpack? Being the organized masochists that we are, we stayed up putting everything away, plus ironed our clothes. I have a large collection of Aloha (Hawaiian) shirts which I brought with me on the trip (yes, I did my own ironing). Eventually, everything was in order and we made it to bed around 3:00am, dreaming of what the next 13 days would bring.

Quote for the Day
“I only hope that we never lose sight of one thing—that it was all started by a mouse.” (Walt Disney)

Sunday, November 5, 2000 / Day: 2 of 15 / “Getting Our Bearings” and “Taking It Easy”

Coming out of the stupor of sleep, I dreamt that I heard Mickey Mouse beckon me. Could it be true? Was I actually sleeping in a WDW hotel and Mickey was telling me to get up? No, we were in the timeshare. The high pitched squeal I heard was the sound of children outside the building. They were feeding the wild birds on the edge of the pond, beneath our window. Darn. No Mickey. Oh well. It was 11:00 AM, the sun was shining bright and it was time to get up.

Did someone say birds?! That’s all it took to get Terry going. She was out the door and down the stairs. You need to understand that wherever there is a bird—there is Terry. We don't have children, but we do have a Quaker parrot and several budgies, most of whom were either found, rescued or are handicapped. Each one has a unique story, but I won’t go into that here. All to say, it became a morning ritual for Terry to go down to the pond and feed her feathered friends. We found it a little surprising that the resort permitted guests to “feed the birds.” This would never be allowed in environmentally-correct Seattle.

I sat in the screened patio balcony, taking in the wonderful climate. The temperature was warm, but not humid. Aaaah. Florida in November! I pulled out the trusty vacation notebook and reviewed our calendar of events. As I mentioned in the last report, we had been scheming this trip for nearly two years. During that time, I discovered the newsgroup "rec.arts.disney.parks" (radp). I became an obsessed “lurker,” reading every bulletin and thread on trip planning. No suggestion or tidbit of advice was too small. I soon collected a journal of the best meals, rides, gifts, schedules, tours, snacks, shows, trash cans, etc... I also found the wonderful website "www.wdwig.com" which had most all of the WDW information I could ever want.

I had taken my pile of on-line suggestions and began creating “The Perfect Schedule.” I didn’t go so far as to have every five minutes mapped out—just every five hours (that’s a joke). I mapped out which parks and activities were the most important to us, and then which days were the best to visit them. Like a giant jig saw puzzle, it all began to fit together.

I’m a blessed man to have a wife who was willing to smile contentedly, as I neurotically schemed and plotted the schedule; like some kind of mad scientist. (It was like… oh, I don’t know… like Terry planning our wedding!) My three highest values were: (1) Enough quality time at each park, (2) Down time dispersed throughout the schedule, and (3) Get outside of Orlando a couple times to see more of Florida. Originally, I dreamed of taking a day trip to St. Augustine to see the historical sites, and a day at Ft. Myers to experience some wonderful beaches. But, it became obvious that the distance to these locations were too far for individual day trips.

We considered visiting Bush Gardens (for the birds, of course) and Islands of Adventure and/or Universal Studios, but eventually scratched them off our list. Why? Although Terry and I now live in Seattle, we were both born and raised in Los Angeles. Visiting a theme park in Florida that’s an adaptation of one in L.A. didn’t make a whole lotta sense. (Those folks who are insightful might ask: “Then, why go to the Magic Kingdom when you’ve been to Disneyland?” Because it’s DISNEY, silly!)

Another reason for not visiting these parks was the roller coasters: big, fat, scary, steely roller coasters. Personally, I love them, but not my wife. The biggest shock during our first year of marriage came when I found out that Terry “freaks” on coasters. I’ll never forget the day. We were vacationing in Monterey/Carmel, California (our favorite spot in the world). We drove to Santa Cruz, went to the Boardwalk and rode the “Giant Dipper” wooden coaster. I thought Terry was going to expire in her seat. After getting past the exit gate, I pleaded: “Why didn't you tell me!?” Her response was: “Well, I like Space Mountain. I didn't think it would be that much different!” Ever since, there has been a tragic wedge of unfulfilled coaster passion between us.

Enough tangents and reminiscing about trip planning. Let’s get back to today’s schedule. “Morning: Sleep In” (well, we did that). “Afternoon: Go the Beltz Factory Outlet Mall and check out the discounted Disney merchandise.” The rationale? Buy souvenirs now, so that we don’t pay full price at the parks. We got in the car and decided to take International Drive north to the Outlets. This allowed us to see the back side of Sea World, the Convention Center and the hundreds of money-grabbing tourist traps along the way. (Soooo beneath Disney… wait, WDW is a money-grabbing tourist trap…)

Like Katella Blvd. in Anaheim, International Drive reeks of irony—for me at least. Just a few miles away lies one of the most imaginatively designed environments in the entire world. And here, in Orlando proper is artery-clogged traffic, garishly themed architecture, irrational use of space and signs screaming to be noticed over one another. I share this because at times I would start daydreaming about working for Disney. I would look at Terry and muse: “Wouldn't it be great to live in Orlando?” All she had to say was: “International Drive and Hwy 192!” and my bubble would pop.

We made it to the Mall and the Disney outlets. I didn’t find anything I really wanted, or that fit for that matter (I'm not that big, really. I just like XXL). Terry found a great sweat shirt for herself, and we picked up a few trinkets for friends. Walking out of the Mall, I was mysteriously pulled into the Birkinstock outlet store. As an adult, I’ve tried to be “counter-cultural” by never wearing counter-cultural footwear, but with these prices my proud nobility went out the window. I was soon clomping down the sidewalks of Orlando.

Our next stop? A slow easement onto the Disney property. It was about 4:00 pm and our first official activity was High Tea at the Grand Floridian hotel. We passed under the WDW “Welcome” arch. Instantly, the road became smoother, the grass greener and everything was right with the universe. I surprised myself by remembering how to get to the hotel. We self-parked across the street, and just before we walked in, it happened… I heard it in the distance… The sweet joyful refrain of a bell clanging on a stream train engine. And then, the proud whistle of a paddle wheeler making its way up a muddy river. Ladies and gentlemen—I was home.

Our first stop inside this ornate Victorian hotel was, of course, a visit to the Rosy Bourkes (pink and grey parakeets) and their eloquent Victorian bird cage. We passed by a wedding reception as we stepped up to the terrace where they serve High Tea. Terry would tell you that the setting was quaint, the china lovely and the service delightful. I wouldn’t say the finger sandwiches were the best, but it was still a delightful experience. It was also a smart way to start the vacation; a wonderful easement into the world of fantasy.

It was getting dark now. Our evening schedule was to take the monorail around EPCOT and the Seven Seas Lagoon. While we waited at the Transportation & Ticket Center (TTC) we struck up a conversation with one of the Cast Members. Acting naive, we told him: “This is our first day. Do guests ever get to ride up front? They do? How wonderful!” A couple minutes later we were in the glass nose of Monorail Blue, with “Honorable Co-Pilot” licenses in hand. (Yes! One for the scrap book.)

Little did we know that a “Magic” experience was just around the corner. The monorail turned onto the EPCOT property. Suddenly, we were looking straight onto a purple and yellow lit Spaceship Earth globe, with a red and white Sorcerer's Apprentice arm and magic wand rising up the side, with “2000” glittering across the top. Wow! What a great image. We never expected to see this Millennial beacon so up close.

Back at TTC, we made our way to the Grand Floridian via the ferry to the Magic Kingdom, and then a small boat to the hotel. We did a little window shopping and eventually peeked our heads inside the Victoria & Albert restaurant. I had read about this establishment and we seriously considered eating here. I love great food and I consider myself a good cook, but I’m also an enemy of novelle cuisine. My passion is classic fare and ethnic dishes. The maitre d’ surprised us by being a nice guy; not snobbish. He allowed us to take a look into the dining room. What a gorgeous, romantic environment! We thanked him and walked out with a greater desire to eat there. But for several reasons, primarily the cost, we didn’t even attempt to ask about last-minute cancellations. Perhaps on our next trip…

Tired and happy, we headed back to the timeshare. I felt a little guilty using hotel transportation, but justified my angst by noting it was off-season, and that by the time our vacation was over, we would have donated a Couple Grand to the Disney Cause. But, to make sure, before going to bed I prayed to Uncle Walt for mercy, and as penance I promised to be a good guest and to not act like an “ugly tourist.”

It was a great day and great start to a great vacation. Next stop: The “Behind the Magic” tour!

Quote for the Day
“Please stand clear of the door. Por favor mantenganse alejado de las puertas.” (Electronic spiel on the monorail)

Monday, November 6, 2000 / Day: 3 of 15 / “All Hail the Imagineers!”

The annoying buzz from the travel alarm prodded me out of a comatose state. I reached over the vast expanse of the king-size bed to find Terry, but she was nowhere to be found. It took a second to figure out where she might be. Of course… downstairs feeding the birds at the pond.

This morning proved to be another wonderful sunny, but not humid, day in Florida. My excitement for today’s activity was beginning to swell. We were finally going to “open” my birthday present! For months there had been a gift tucked away in our travel planning notebook. Now, what would a 40-year-old Disney fanatic want for his mid-life crisis birthday? A Porsche? Trophy wife? Hair plugs? Nah, forget those things. We had confirmed reservations for the “Behind the Magic” tour!

For those unaware, Disney offers various tours on their property, including behind the scenes guides of the theme parks. The “Monstro” tour of them all is “Behind the Magic,” which lets you experience backstage secrets at three of the four parks. As already mentioned, I’m a Disney employee wannabe. Specifically, I’ve always wanted to be an Imagineer. What’s that you ask? It’s one of those folks who help design Disney theme parks, hotels, restaurants, shops, etc. I’ve wanted to be one since I was ten years old. In fact, I wanted to be one before I knew there was a name for the position. Pull up the ottoman, grab a cup of coffee, and get ready for another long digression…

Since I was a kid, two American artists touched me profoundly: Frank Lloyd Wright and Walt Disney. Both geniuses are known for their ability to envision amazing worlds, bring them to life, and bless the socks off of those who experience their work. Their brilliance was more than imaginative design. Each had a unique way of creating three-dimensional environments that touched the soul. They expressed in physical space glimmers of humanity’s greater self. Whether it be a sense of community, harmony, utopia, “heaven on earth”… however you describe it, they actualized the hidden hope of humankind (“Unseen Real” as some philosophers put it) through their work.

To move through fantastic spaces that tell the story of the heart had a profound impact on me. (…And you thought “Mr. Toad’s” was just a ride!) Experiencing their work through their drawings, film, architecture, landscape, parks, etc., became the one thing I wanted to do with my life, but didn’t have the words to articulate it. Sadly, as a kid, Disney literature didn’t provide many details about Imagineering. It seemed to be a big secret. School was no help either (have you ever heard of a major in “Imagineering?”). As far as I could discern, being an architect was the closest thing to designing a theme park (and hopefully, get to draw really cool houses like Frank Lloyd Wright). As a kid, peers weren’t that much help in my quest:

“Hey. Why do you like Disney so much? It's weird!”
“Well, it’s about expressing truth through the metaphor of story, within and through physical space.”
“Yeah… OK… right.”

As we all know life has its twists and turns, like the track on a carnival dark ride. It doesn’t travel in the direction you expect. I tried becoming an architect but couldn’t hack the engineering side of it. All to say, life has been good but there’s still the “Inner Imagineer” inside that I have to wrestle with every day. Hopefully, you can better understand my delight in being able to take a tour where I could experience just a little bit more of how Disney does it behind the scenes.

On our way over to the WDW property, I vacillated between giddy excitement and a calm “know-it-all” exterior. We parked in EPCOT and waited for our tour to begin outside the Guest Relations station. Our guide was a pleasant and knowledgeable woman, but I got the impression throughout the day that she had done this tour just a few too many times. Later on she admitted to being a guide for many years and appreciated the tour rotation offered to her. All the while she’s explaining this, my mind is screaming: “Don't you realize that you have the most PERFECT JOB?! Telling people about Disney?!”

First stop was the shuttle bus. We had a full compliment on the tour; about 25 guests. We drove around to the back of EPCOT where we parked behind the American Adventure attraction in World Showcase. We were escorted through a nondescript door and entered the backstage of a darkened theater. Instead of standing around the typical backdrops and wood sets, we stood next to living breathing true-life Cast Members (OK, OK, they’re just people) primping and coiffure-ing various American animatronic figures, such as George Washington and Benjamin Franklin. Each robot was situated on a small set, which was positioned within a black steel conveyor system, which raises and lowers the characters during the show. Wow! Now this is what I came for; to see how a big attraction really works behind the scenes. Our guide gave us a few interesting tidbits of information while admonishing us to stay behind the yellow lines. I found it difficult to adhere to the rule (“What’s down that corridor? What happens if you touch that flashing green light?!”).

We returned to the bus and headed toward the east side of Future World. We entered a dark building which holds the flight simulators for the “Body Wars” ride, in the Wonders of Life Pavilion. Like a bunch of voyeurs, we stood in the dark watching an electronic gangplank rotate down to one of the flight simulators. The automatic doors opened and guests started their way into the hydrologic vehicle. On a small black and white monitor we watched the strapped-in guests bob up and down as the simulator twisted and tilted, like a gymnast performing a floor exercise. It was rather amusing to watch what we tourists put ourselves through for amusement. It was also fun to watch “machismo” give way. We observed one big guy unfold his limbs and finally grab hold of the arm rests for dear life. Later, we learned that the “best” seat to experience the ride’s dramatic pitch is in the upper far right corner of the cabin. Ride operators also watch this seat for possible “Code V” violations: Guest in digestive distress.

Next stop was the Oceans Pavilion where we entered from the back. During our short visit, we learned how Disney takes care of its assorted marine life, primarily the chubby manatees. One bit of trivia we learned after existing the building was that concrete pathways in Disney parks are often painted a muted shade of pink, which visually helps the grass growing along the sides to look greener.

Next, we were off to the Disney/MGM Studios. Along the way, our Guide played a round of Disney Trivia. After about five correct answers, I started to feel like the Disney “geek” of the group, so I kept my mouth shut. Well, sort of. I muttered to Terry: “Mortimer,” “1971,” “Elias,” “Daisy,” etc. She was so proud. (It doesn’t take much; that's why I love her.)

At the Studios, I was hoping to go backstage of the Tower of Terror, but at this park, we were going to learn about the live entertainment Disney does so well. First stop was the rehearsal area for the Fantasmic! show, and a rest room break in the empty dressing rooms/lounge. As one might guess, the herding instinct kicked in and all of the women went in together. The Guide’s parting words to the men were: “Do NOT look at the bulletin boards!” Well, that’s like saying: “Don't think about pink elephants” (which, by the way, can be more easily seen than imagined when at WDW). Of course none of us guys listened to what she said and we read all of the jokes and gossip that the Fantasmic! performers had posted on the walls. Frankly, the biting comments and jokes about Disney management and guests were lame compared to the articles that appear on the internet (i.e. www.mouseplanet.com).

Next stop was a visit to the costume department, in particular, the one which creates specialized outfits. To keep down the fidgeting, we were each given a small swath, taken directly from the pants of our favorite Disney character! Actually, it was a small sample of fabric used to dress Mickey, Minnie, etc. An interesting aspect of the department was observing the thousands of wigs created and maintained for hundreds of performers.

There was a unanimous group “Rumbly in the Tumbly,” so it was off to Mamma Melrose’s for lunch. The shuttle parked next to another nondescript door, which on the other side read: “Cast Members Only.” Soon we were inside the theme park and entering the Italian restaurant. I was looking forward to this meal since we had not eaten here before, and I had heard good things about it. We were seated way in the back at three long tables. Gratefully, the food was quickly served. There was no skimping here; they fed us well. The restaurant reminded me of “Buca de Beppo,” if you are lucky enough to have one of these franchises in your town. I tried to strike up conversations with a few folks in our group, but found no Disney fanatics like me. I kept my rambling and enthusiasm down to a simmer.

Back on the bus, we were off toward the Magic Kingdom. After a few minutes, we were parked among the white metal warehouse hangers Disney calls “The Factory.” In short, this is where they manufacture and maintain everything, from signs stating: “You must be this tall to ride,” to space rockets and trolley cars. In many ways, this was my favorite part of the tour. It reminded me of the old episodes of “The Wonderful World of Disney.” You know, the ones where Uncle Walt would give a behind-the-scene tour of his Empire and explain how he created Disneyland. (Aaah, the power of nostalgia. Thank goodness for “Vault Disney” on the Disney Channel.)

While passing pirate boats and giant tea cups in various stages of maintenance, we entered the repair room for the rudimentary animatronics. Propped in the corners, and on top of “operating” tables, were dozens of stripped-down Jungle Cruise animals, It's A Small World dolls, and Indians from the Rivers of America. Being unclothed, or un-furred, you could see the metal skeleton frames within the plastic cast torsos. We were met by an employee who had been with WDW for many years and was a great guy to talk to. While everyone in our group stood in dumb silence when asked if they had any questions (it was time for a group nap), I started blasting away: “Which animatronics are the most difficult to maintain?!” (The elaborate ones, especially the Wicked witch on The Great Movie Ride.) “How long does fur last?!” (Depends.) “What are the plastic molds made out of?!” (Plastic.) One fun thing we learned from our guest speaker is that he had personally redesigned a longer lasting bouncy tail for Tigger in the Winnie the Pooh ride, in just a matter of days before the attraction officially opened.

We said good-bye to our guest and headed off to the other departments. One in particular was a small room where the horses from Cinderella’s carrousel are maintained. Our guide tried to demonstrate how gold leaf is applied to the noble steeds. Well, not being a Master Craftsman, she got gold all over her hands, which instantly became an unofficial souvenir for anyone who wanted some specks (I think our Host needs to watch “Martha Stewart” more often).

After leaving these buildings, we drove around to the other side of the Magic Kingdom and parked behind the building that houses Splash Mountain. Our destination was a nearby hanger where parade floats are stored. It was wonderful to once again see the Main Street Electrical parade, since it had been shipped off to Orlando from its original home at Disneyland (Note: Since then, it's moved back to Anaheim). I was surprised to see the parade in the daylight. The floats are simply made of black steel and black wire mesh, with ordinary Christmas lights attached with black plastic clips. Somehow it seemed… puny and drab. Like a colorful parrot after it takes a bath.

As we have all suspected, the Disney Company knows the needs of its visitors before they do. Personally, I think our Guide had an electronic implant that detects the bladder control of the group. We were all soon having a rest room break, and then were off for the last leg of our journey—the infamous underground tunnels of the Magic Kingdom. This time we parked in back of Fantasyland and entered a building which was recessed into the ground, looking very much like a Shipping and Receiving dock. We began walking down the long crowded corridors, which have multi-colored walls to help lead Cast Members in the right destination. If you have ever been in the back of a shopping mall, there really isn’t much difference (other than these are Disney hallways). I found this part of the tour to be a little sad. It was the only time we saw Cast Members in various stages of costume undress, walking around disheveled, looking like fast food employees who had punched off the clock. I know C.M.’s are regular people trained to perform “on stage,” but it was a bit of a surprise to see a half-dressed balloon vendor sitting on top of a picnic table, drinking a Coke and a cigarette dangling out of her mouth.

Fortunately, the rest of the tour was more inspiring than this. It was impressive to see tens of thousands of clean uniforms hanging on racks. It was startling, and then amusing, to hear tons of trash and ice cubes hurling through the large metal pipes that hung above the corridors, as they made their way to the recycling plant. My favorite underground activity was entering the “Computer Room.” This is the center for key control systems for various attractions. Basically, we were standing in the “brain” of the Magic Kingdom. It was a real kick to see a small archival display of antiquated equipment, the stuff used to program and run the earliest Audio-Animatronics. In the back of the room, we met a technician who controlled various facets of the park’s parades, such as when to start the audio along the parade route. As I had suspected, there are security cameras hidden throughout the park, which are used to watch the progress of the parade (and guests?…).

After a long meandering trip through several hallways, and up a couple stairways, we were standing outside in Town Square, on Main Street. After all we had seen today—how shows are developed, designed, manufactured, rehearsed and maintained—the conclusion of our tour was to view the finished product—an afternoon parade. This was a very effective way to end the tour. Even the most jaded or bored guest would be impressed with how it all comes together in the end. Or, as I like to say: “An expression of truth through the metaphor of story, within and through physical space…”

It was a sad ride back to the EPCOT parking lot (I had hoped that they would set us free in the Magic Kingdom). Before we left the bus, a parting gift was given, which was a clear acrylic statuette of Mickey created by the craftsman at the warehouses behind the Magic Kingdom.

We were tired and happy, but the day was not yet over. Family members were flying into Orlando this afternoon and would soon be joining us back at the timeshare. When we first started planning the trip, I had made an announcement to my side of the family that we had a spare bedroom, and that it was up for grabs to the highest bidder. My sister and brother-in-law were first to claim the room. With their work schedules, they only could stay a couple days. They were then going to drive down to Southern Florida to take in some race car action.

We received a phone call saying they had landed. In a short time, my sister Tina, and brother-in-law Matt, were unpacked and ready for dinner. I put on my Tour Guide hat and headed to Downtown Disney for dinner at Bongo’s. One of our favorite restaurants in Los Angeles is Versailles, a Cuban restaurant, so this eatery seemed like a good idea. We had a very nice meal (although, being a frustrated food critic, I can’t say it beat Versailles' garlic chicken).

With Tina and Matt fighting jet lag, and Terry and I fighting fatigue from the day-long tour, we dragged ourselves through a few shops at Downtown Disney, but eventually headed back to Vistana to hit the hay. It was going to be a big day tomorrow; our first real visit to the theme parks. In addition, tomorrow was Election Day. We would have a new President selected by the end of the evening.

Or so we thought…

Quote for the Day
“The inclination of my life—the motto, you might call it—has been to do things and make things which will give pleasure to people in new and amusing ways.” (Walt Disney)

“It has that thing—the imagination, and the feeling of happy excitement—I knew when I was a kid.” (Walt Disney, on Disneyland)

Tuesday, November 7, 2000 / Day: 4 of 15 / “Patience Is A Virtue,” “Good-bye to an Old Friend,” and “It's A Great Big Beautiful Election”

Morning arrived with Terry, Tina and Matt, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, waiting for me to get out of bed. So far on this trip, jet lag and a mild hypothyroid condition were waging an effective war against sleep. Since it was going to be another great day at the Wonderful World, I couldn’t let a little thing like fatigue get in the way. So, I got “me bum” out of bed and put on my latest Mickey Aloha shirt.

Today I would get to play Tour Guide for my family who had never been to the Magic Kingdom (although they’ve been to Disneyland in Anaheim many times). Since we were staying “off property” and didn’t have the option of early admission, the morning goal was to arrive as soon as the gates opened to us “outsiders.” Instead, for some strange reason, the topic of Krispy Kreme doughnuts came up (OK, I initiated it). It started with the dilemma of what to have for breakfast. We did’t have Krispy Kreme in Seattle. (Note: We do now.) Terry had never experienced the rapture of a fresh hot “original glaze” evaporating in her mouth, so I figured the right time had arrived.

An hour later, with doughnuts in our stomachs, we sped down the highway to WDW. We parked at the Ticket and Transportation Center and walked up to the booths to purchase individual day tickets for Matt and Tina (they would only be visiting the Magic Kingdom and EPCOT over the next two days). We had a very nice ticket agent who took forever to process the order and went on to explain every admission detail. I started squirming. (“This is our first real day at one of the parks and time is a-wasting. There are rides to ride, souvenirs to shop for, and snacks to devour! Don’t you get it? We’re almost there! Come on!!”)

I decided on the ferry as transportation to the front gates, since the queue didn’t appear to be too long. As we crossed the lake toward the park, I took note of my sister’s response seeing the Contemporary Hotel for the first time. She had a nostalgic moment remembering how as kids we used to watch Disney specials on TV, and the construction of this futuristic A-framed lodge.

We were soon inside the Magic Kingdom, but first needed to rent a couple lockers. I’m a little embarrassed to say how impatient I get; I become like a little kid. I don’t calm down until we get on the first attraction. (“Can we go now?”) Nope. The ladies need a rest room break and then a stop in City Hall to get a “Today Is My Birthday” button for me. Today wasn’t actually my birthday (please don’t tell anyone) but it was the day I picked to celebrate the event with family, and to commence a very solemn ceremony (more on this later). It was now a mad dash up Main Street to… oops.

“Yes, the Castle is amazing, but do you REALLY have to take a picture right now?”

I didn’t want to come off too irritating, so I concealed my impatience as best I could. Finally, we made a right turn into Tomorrowland. WOW! This was our first time seeing this refurbished land, and what a great job they did. “They,” of course, being the wonderful Imagineers (may they be praised). It’s a poignant experience, especially if you have seen what the corporate Bean Counters did to Tomorrowland in Anaheim. (Boo! A pox on their calculators!)

I invited my family to enjoy the ambiance (since there actually is ambiance in this Tomorrowland) while I made a bee-line for the FastPass station at Space Mountain. I’m hoping most folks reading this trip report know about “FastPass.” If not, I won’t take the time to go into detail, but a meager description would be that it’s a new reservation system for the most popular rides. The strategy this morning, which I read about on a web posting, was to get FastPass tickets for Space Mountain, get into the regular standby line for the ride (which should be quick since it was still morning), then go on a couple other attractions and come back and ride the Mountain for the second time, with the FastPass tickets. The strategy guaranteed that you got on a popular attraction at least twice in one day, or so they say.

The standby line was posted at “20 minutes,” which is my limit for waiting in the morning. As it turned out, something went wrong while traversing inside the building. We waited over 100 minutes. I knew better than to remain in line and should have gotten the family out, but no announcement was ever made. This leaves the nagging suspicion that the line might start moving again at any moment. Well, it didn’t. I believe the queue inside Space Mountain may be the worst location to get stuck. All of those cute special effects, like spacey music, dim colored lights and little rockets spinning around in “outer space” got extremely irritating. (Useless Tangent: When I was in high school, our marching band performed at Disneyland during its “soft opening” of Space Mountain. We were inside the queue for over three hours, due to mechanical failure. Being obnoxious teenagers, we sang every verse of “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall. Now, THAT was irritating.)

We eventually made it to the boarding station. By this time, I was feeling like an ugly tourist. I asked our happy Cast Member what kind of system break-down they had experienced. “We haven’t had any breakdowns. Everything is fine. Have a nice flight!” Before I could yell: “What are you talking about!? We just stood for an hour without moving!,” our rocket whipped around the corner and hurled into the blue strobe-lit tunnel. It’s hard to be angry when you’re on a roller coaster, so I tried to let the anger go. After dozens of twists and turns, we were standing outside in the daylight wondering what to do next. It occurred to me to look at our Fast Pass tickets. They were nearly expired! That’s how long the wait in the stand-by line took. Everyone was up for a second ride, but this time we were at the boarding station in about 20 minutes. While getting my butt into the rocket, a perky Cast Member saw my birthday button and asked if I would like a complimentary ride when we got back. I nearly did an “Exorcist” impersonation and barked out: “No Thank You!” We had wasted enough time on this ride and my agenda for the day was totally off!

Back in the daylight and hoping to salvage the rest of the morning, I started to sprint toward Splash Mountain on the other side of the park. Someone in our group asked: “What kind of ride is that?” They were pointing to the ExtraTerrorestrial Alien Encounter. Objectivity finally clicked in my brain. It was 11:00am. Any chance of getting on several major attractions before the crowds arrived was over. In fact, for being “off-season” it was a rather busy day at the park. I clued into the fact that I was ruining the day for myself (“Get over it Shawn. This trip was planned for you, to have fun. Besides, you’ve got a week and a half left to play in WDW.”)

“Go on Alien Encounter? Sure, why not.” (“Give up your neurotic agenda Luke and embrace the Dark Side.”)

I had read lots about this attraction and wondered if our party was going to love it or hate it, which seemed to be the two common responses. After several minutes in the lobby, we were escorted to the next room where we watched a “teleportation” demonstration by the evil “Dr. Frankenfurter.” Oops, sorry… we watched a robot with the voice of Tim Curry conduct an evil experiment. Believe it or not, I found this part of the attraction to be the scariest. The buildup of dread is well done. For some reason, I just knew when cute, fluffy, yellow Skippy got zapped to the other side of the room, he would end up being nothing more than a pile of quivering intestines and smoke. Can you believe it? I actually thought Disney would do something that grotesque. (For those who haven’t ridden before–and I’m spoiling the attraction for you–Skippy survives with only comically-singed fur.) I guess I don’t care for the juxtaposition of innocence and evil. From the “I'm-not-having-fun” silence that overtook the audience, I think a majority of guests were feeling the same thing. (Frankly, I get upset watching “innocence” being tortured in movies, or in attractions for that matter.)

Next stop was the dark and smoky arena. We found our seats, which I loved: irritating, can’t-get-comfortable chairs. I told everyone to sit up straight so when the shoulder harness came down, it wouldn’t be too hard, especially later on in the show. As we waited, Terry was selected by the red laser light to be the “volunteer,” with her face smiling up on the video screen. (Oh how lucky!) The show soon started and we were thrown into darkness, squirted at, poked at, and frightened, all in the name of amusement. Actually, I enjoyed this part. I found it to be more Funhouse-like than anything truly scary. I know some people have almost wet their pants in fear, but for me, there was no suspension of disbelief. It’s nothing more than parlor tricks and joy buzzers. Besides, how is a big ol’ space monster supposed to squeeze by you with those teeny aisles. (“Excuse me. Pardon me. Oops. Sorry for drooling on you.”) The audience made the show more fun with all that screaming and laughing going on. Or, was that the sound track within the attraction…?

Having escaped the creature and the evils of the galactic Capitalism, I discovered my “pity party” was over. Having found my true Inner Rastifarian (“No problems man”), we casually strolled through Adventureland toward Splash Mountain. I suggested we try the Dole Whip ice cream, the dessert I had been hearing so much about online. Sorry folks. Those of you who go crazy over this snack—I don't get it.

We made it over to a crowded Splash Mountain and got FastPass tickets. (“It sure as heck better work this time, brother! I'm telling you!”) This would be our second attempt using this system, and so far we weren’t impressed. Big Thunder Mountain Railroad was closed for refurbishing, which was sad, but since it was the only major attraction down in the Park, it wasn't a major loss. We squeezed our way past the mob in front of “Splash” and headed back towards the Pirates of the Caribbean.

Reentering Adventureland, we found a dozen large birds under a tree, and of course, had to stop for pictures. “Pirates” only had a few minutes wait. We were soon sailing the high seas with salty ol’ pirates and… a terrified four-year-old girl in the front row. A kindly suggestion to you parents: If you force your frightened child onto a dark ride, when they start screaming and the rest of us riders are stewing in silence, anger and concern for the kid, please do not hold your child over your shoulder, so that their wails are directed toward the captive audience behind you. It drowns out the narration of the ride. Thank you.

I must take a moment to make a comparison between the Pirate ride in Orlando versus Anaheim. It’s just amazing to see what a difference a serene Bayou, electronic fireflies and a 20 foot waterfall drop can make for a ride. A great testament to how much we experience “story” through well-conceived environments. I know that the attraction couldn’t be constructed underground due to the Floridian water table, but how much better it would have been if the ride had started at an elevated level (OK, I’m stepping off my soap box now).

It was time for Splash Mountain. Passing the long line on the outside, we entered the barn, made our way past the line that snaked inside, until we stopped 20 feet from the boarding station. (“Well, how about that! This FastPass thing just might be alright!”) We were quickly Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah-ing to our Laughing Place, and unlike the attraction in Anaheim, you can actually follow a story line here. Terry and I were fortunate enough to be seated in the front seat, which provides that nice wave of water pouring onto your lap after the boat descends the first drop.

It was time for our Priority Seating reservations at the Liberty Tavern restaurant. Terry and I had eaten here seven years ago and remember enjoying it very much. At the doorway, a fellow tourist was doing an excellent impersonation of Cruella deVil. She was not going to let any patrons get by the reservation podium until her family was seated! This, thank goodness, took place soon after her temper tantrum. After a long wait (thanks Priority Seating!), we were escorted to a booth by a very nice waiter. I decided on a salad since we had “reservations” for barbecue that evening. Everyone had a great meal. Although lunch took longer than I had planned (I can’t give up that agenda!) it was nice to sit and relax.

We took a quick walk over to the Hall of Presidents and found a short wait in the lobby. We made our way up to the Cast Member with a microphone, playing “President Trivia” with his captive audience. Being Election Day, he wore an “I Voted” sticker on his 18th Century vest, which I don’t think was a Disney-approved wardrobe accessory. (We had voted too, just like many people here today, I assume, via absentee ballot.) The guy obviously loved his job and seemed pleased to stump the audience. I have a hunch when he was a kid, he was the kind that would remind the teacher at the end of the day that homework hadn’t been assigned yet.

We finally sat in the theater and watched this inspiring, politically-correct presentation. Sorry folks. I know many of you think Clinton is (was) the cat’s meow; that Maya Angelou is a goddess; and the script which emphasizes the failures of America brings tears to your eyes. This show is a tribute to postmodern thought, wrapped in the casing of nostalgic patriotism. Not that I think you can present American history without some form of viewpoint (one way or another) but it’s ironic to observe the evolution this attraction has taken since it opened. It will also certainly be interesting to learn who gets the “talking part” after Clinton.

We walked over to the Haunted Mansion and noticed the stand-by line had dissipated since the congestion earlier in the day. We ducked into the parlor and waited our turn to enter the ghostly Gallery. I noticed a 10-year-old boy jumping up and down on his mother’s arm, filled with excitement and fear, ready to go further inside. The mother stared blankly, not amused. Looking at him brought back memories. When I was his age, I drew up my own death certificate. As in: ‘Hurry baaack. Be sure to bring your death certificate,’ and gave it to the surprised cast members. (“Some people have the Disney spirit, kid. Some don't.”)

Next, it was time to investigate the remaining lands at the park. We were soon walking through the medieval carnival village of Fantasyland. A nagging sense that I should act my age suddenly came over me, and we passed on the fairy tale attractions. The chance of Matt and Tina wanting to go on these dark rides seemed remote. (“Does anybody want to fly over Neverla… uh, nevermind. Anybody want to stand in line for 45 minutes for Dumbo?… forget it. Well, let’s head over to Mickey’s Toontown. Maybe there are more adult attractions over there.”)

On the way, we approached the new Winnie the Pooh attraction. (“I don’t care what my family thinks! This is new and they don’t have it in Anaheim (yet). What? A 150 minute WAIT?! You've got to be kidding?! Even I’m not that fanatical!”) I promised myself we would catch it on another day.

As we strolled through Mickey’s neighborhood we passed more childrens’ attractions. My sister finally piped up: “Hey, why don’t we DO something. How about Mickey's House?” (Well, if you insist.) Mickey has a very cool pad, but he really should reconsider what kind of guests he has over. I mean, parents letting their children scream and climb all over the furniture. Really!

“Anybody up for a picture with Mickey? You are?! Great!”

After a long line in Mickey’s garden, it was picture time with the Big Guy himself. I'm glad nobody in our group was too old for a picture with The Mouse.

It was late afternoon; time to take a walk down Main Street and say good-bye to an old friend. Already feeling too old for Fantasyland, it seemed the right time to keep a vow I made to myself earlier in the year. I was now 40 and needed to get rid of my ponytail; the braid I had been sporting for over 15 years. (When the fad ended in the Eighties, I never got around to cutting it off.) Turning 40 meant facing a couple inevitable truths: (1) The paunch around my belly wasn’t going away, and (2) The hairline on top of my head is slowing migrating south. I swore to myself I wouldn’t be one of those guys who goes bald and still sports a tail as a trophy. It was time to get rid of it. Actually, since I have made this decision months ago, I was looking forward to the day. I contemplated: “Where would be a great place to have it cut off? The barber shop on Main Street, of course! What could be more ceremonial than that?”

We marched into the busy barber shop. Both barbers were coifing a couple of business-looking yuppies (must be Disney Execs; they sure didn’t look like tourists). The wait made things worse, and I began to have second thoughts. Terry started mourning out loud about the decision. Ever since I told her my plan, she had been protesting. Terry hated the thought of me losing my tail. When I pointed out that she had changed her hairstyle at least ten times since we’ve been married, she retorted it wasn’t the same (something about a woman’s prerogative). Terry eventually conceded that if it would make me happy, she would survive, somehow.

When I told barber Dan what I wanted, he stared at me for a moment, until he realized I wasn’t joking. The jokes starting flying from the sidelines (Tina & Matt). Dan got into the act by securing a red and white striped Mickey drop cloth around my neck and then pulled out a pair of giant clown scissors. The tail was secured tight with a large rubber band. And then… the BIG SNIP. The tail was off. Dozens of pictures were taken of this monumental occasion (so much so, it started to feel like a Bris ceremony!).

Already prepared for this sad day, Terry pulled out a zip lock baggie to keep the locks for posterity. Dan cleaned up the back of my head. I gave him a nice tip to express my gratitude of his humorous contribution. Standing outside, the back of my neck felt sunlight for the first time in many eons. Terry was still grieving, so we went over to the Hub and stood in front of the statue of Walt and Mickey. I postured like Walt with my arm out—with tail in hand. Terry crouched down and took hold of my other hand, like Mickey. It made for a good shot. (Another tangent: In my office, I have a photo of the Walt & Mickey statue at Disneyland, where I'm kneeling in prostration before my idols. The blood red Christmas poinsettias in the foreground make the gesture of worship even funnier.)

Since it was Autumn, nighttime was nearly upon us, and being an off-season day, the park was closing in a couple hours. It was time to get on a couple more rides. We turned into Tomorrowland, and this time the lights and vivid neon were on. (“Oh my gosh! The Carrousel of Progress! How could I have forgotten?”) This was one of my favorite attractions when I was a kid. None of us in our party had been on this ride since it left Disneyland 25 years ago. We ran into the little theater; not many other tourists joined us. I remembered there being a sort-of psychedelic light show at the introduction. Now there was only a green curtain. Oh well. Gently, our seats revolved around the great accomplishments of electricity and American ingenuity. Sadly, I have to admit the show just isn’t the same. I don’t mean the updated script. That's obvious. The attraction is from a by-gone era that will never be again. It’s a nice nostalgia trip, but the view of the world that sparked the show’s concept is a lost paradigm, no matter how much spit and polish is added. I guess “You can't go home,” even if it is a G.E. home.

It was near closing and we noticed Buzz Lightyear Space Ranger Spin had a short line. We made a mad dash and were soon blasting away enemy aliens and other no-gooders from our space vehicles. Talk about a contrast in ride concepts from the previous attraction. Instead of passively watching a show go by, in Buzz, there’s audience participation by racking up points on your laser cannon, which was an absolute kick. We had so much fun, we ran right back to the entrance (with two minutes to spare before closing).

Coming out one more time, it was too late for any more rides. An announcement floating on the air stated that the park was now closed. Somewhere from deep inside, the voice of a little boy rose up. (“NO. I don’t wanna go home yet! I wanna staaaay!”) Wow. Somebody needs a nap—and it’s me. Well, perhaps dinner will help.

We meandered through some Main Street shops on the way out. By accident, we went into the old theater that use to host the long-gone “Mickey's Revue,” an attraction we never had the opportunity to see. We took some photos with the character cut outs and eventually made our way to the exit gates. We decided on the monorail to get back to the parking lot. We listened to the recorded safety spiel in English and Spanish and breathed in that funny odor. (What the heck is that anyway? Is that was happens when humidity, polyester shorts and formed plastic seats come together?) We only had a moment’s glance in the Contemporary Hotel as we passed through the structure.

Back in the car, we headed toward the Wilderness Lodge for dinner at Whispering Canyons. I wanted everyone to see this hotel. If our extended family were ever to vacation together at WDW, I’m sure this would be the place where we stayed. The timber-laden, Yosemite-themed lobby was impressive. It would have been fun to have taken the tour of the hotel, but it was too late in the day for that.

Now that we were out of the Magic Kingdom, and a little closer to Realityland, we began to wonder how the election had turned out. I stopped a few passing tourists and employees.

“Hey, what are the election results?”
“Gore won.”
“No, the news said Bush won.”
“No, they said Gore won.”
“Well, which one is it?!”
“It's too close to tell.”
“Well, what does that mean?” …Truly, a prophetic question if there ever was one.

At the restaurant, we sat down and watched several guests being mercilessly embarrassed by their comical waiters. (“Uh-oh. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”) Its fun to watch other people get teased, but I was sure hoping it wouldn’t come over to us. Our waitress was loud, but lenient. Maybe we looked tired (we ordered lots of food to pay her off). I had one of the milk shakes, which was really good, but not the best thing to eat before a barbecue. The sauce covered carrion we had was nice and certainly more than we could ever finish. Right when I thought things were safe, our waitress screamed from across the room for me to come over. Because I still had on my birthday button, I was ordered to gallop around the room on a hobby horse. I could have survived this embarrassment, but as fate would have it, my jeans shorts started to slide down as I made the first turn. Not only was I looking like a 40-year-old idiot, galloping on a broom stick with one hand, I was trying to grab my waist band with the other. That’s what you get when you wear a birthday button when it’s not really your birthday.

We made it back to the timeshare, exhausted. We turned on the news to see if chaos had taken over America or if the White House was in flames. No, democratic order was still intact, thank goodness. But no President-Elect had been confirmed. We would have to sleep on the indecision like the rest of America. A jam packed day was ahead of us. Tomorrow was our first trip to the Atlantic Ocean, and to the Kennedy Space Center. The vacation would go on, with or without a confirmed leader of the Free World.

Quote for the Day
“None of my (Disneyland) pleasures are guilty. Hey, if a guy pushing 40 can’t sit in a little caterpillar car and go through a make-believe world completely guilt-free, what’s the point?” (Web posting 10/3/99)

Wednesday, November 8, 2000 / Day: 5 of 15 / “Rocket Park and Rock Shrimp”

The morning began with the alarm clock, once again, endeavoring to pry open my eyelids. This jet lag/ hypothyroid/ lazy butt condition I was encountering was getting old. I hoped it would pass soon. At least, by the time the trip was over.

I crawled out of bed and headed for the shower. Soaking under the hot water, I reached around the back of my neck to collect a disheveled ponytail, only to find air. Wow. What a strange feeling, grabbing at nothing; like losing a limb. Well, more like losing a long fingernail. I felt good about the decision to cut off my tail, even if Terry was still giving me grief over the decision. One upside to the dramatic haircut would be the savings on shampoo (that Aveda is expensive stuff).

After the morning sugar binge yesterday morning, we needed a healthier breakfast, so we ate in at the timeshare (organic buckwheat maple cereal and local orange juice). We turned on the morning news shows to see if a new President had been elected. Not yet. The tension expressed by the commentators was palatable, and I guess by most of America. It certainly felt strange living through an historical event while on vacation, without much focus on it. We knew the election was unprecedented and that Republicans and Democrats were blaming each other, but we didn’t have time to sit down and listen to the details. Today, we were off on a road trip, escaping the borders of Disney World and Orlando to the land honoring rocket science and the Sixties: Cocoa Beach and the Kennedy Space Center.

We crammed into one rental car and headed North. It was then I realized we didn’t have a detailed map displaying Eastern Florida. I had read a suggestion on a newsgroup about taking Highway 50 because it was a pretty drive. Putting together a couple of small maps, we figured out that if we got off Highway 4 and took #408 to #50, we could skip downtown Orlando. It worked. We were soon roaring down the road toward the East Coast. It was an uneventful hour’s drive, with nothing to look at but thick forests of palm and other non-Northwestern foliage. (“My! What dense vegetation you grow here in Florida!”)

We soon arrived at the Atlantic Ocean. Having lived on the Pacific Coast all our lives, it seemed strange driving East to the sea. We crossed the Indian River and headed into the Kennedy Space Center compound. Walking toward the front gates, Matt began to name all of the rockets in the Rocket Park, an area displaying a couple dozen missiles. We stared at him proudly. NASA was one of his hobbies as a kid.

We were greeted with long lines at the ticket booths. (Yes, I know, we should have pre-purchased tickets online before we left.) We wanted to purchase all three tour options, but by the time we got to the window, we were only able to obtain the Standard Tour and the “Then and Now” trip. This meant missing the towering Vehicle Assembly Building, where they build the space shuttle rockets. But, since we were all Baby-Boomers who grew up with the Gemini mission, landing on the moon, and Tang, the “Then and Now” tour seemed like a good bet.

Inside Information Central, we collected our access badges and headed outside. Looking around the grounds, I noticed what I thought was a strange dichotomy. The Space Center is a tourist attraction, attempting to bring a theme park design to the place, but foundationally, it’s an aeronautics base. This gives the feeling of a military compound trying to be a Six Flags park.

After failing to find a nutritional snack anywhere, we loaded onto the bus and began the nostalgic tour. Our guide was a very dedicated woman, with Menendez-Brothers’-Lawyer-Leslie-Abramson-Type hair. She was quite enthusiastic about NASA and her job. Unfortunately for us, she was too enthusiastic. Throughout the tour, she bubbled and rambled incessantly into her microphone about how much fun we were going to have.

“Oh, we’re just going to have so much fun! Oh, yes we are. We’re going to learn so much. I have so many stories to tell you, I don’t know where to begin. This is so exciting! Isn’t that right George?” (To the bus driver, who nodded incessantly.)

After 15 minutes, I wanted to scream. The pinnacle of her charm came at the beginning of the trip, while pointing out various landmarks in the distance. “Over there was the first Gemini launch. Over there was the first operating base.” Then, with great urgency: “OH, look over to your right!” Every head in the bus swerved with whiplash speed to look out the windows, thinking a rocket had just launched.

“It’s a road… That’s a little joke, folks. Sorry. I just had to do it! Didn’t I George? Oh, we’re going to have so much fun!”

By then, I think most of the riders would have joined me in volunteering to be NASA test monkeys, if it would have gotten off that bus.

Eventually, we did escape the bus with stops at the old NASA sights. Most amazing was to see how rudimentary (and dangerous) the operations were with this burgeoning industry back in the early Sixties. A dozen rusted out towers of steel and scaffolding still stand, atop large cracking foundations, representing each rocket launch, and each step toward the moon. Unlike Walt Disney World, these original towers remain untouched, tempered by time and weather. No redecoration here, just monoliths to the courage and sacrifice of the space mission.

Another stop was to an underground bunker, which was a lookout point for the Gemini project. Someone from NASA approached our Guide, informing her that the tour was in a restricted area. (“Hey, will you give us a new Guide for trespassing?!”). The most touching moment of the day came when we visited the base of the fateful Apollo 1 launch, where three astronauts lost their lives. Thank goodness our guide felt passionately about the meaningfulness of this landmark, and showed respect by restraining her banter.

Eventually, we were dropped off at the “LC-39 Observation Gantry,” where we said goodbye to our Guide (thank goodness!). We climbed up the stairs to view the launch pads used for the Space Shuttle. It was another bus ride to the Apollo/Saturn V Center, where we got to walk the length of a Saturn V rocket on its side, and experience what it was like to be in the launch control center for the Apollo 11 mission (featuring original equipment). We also got to listen to the swelling movie soundtrack from “Apollo 13”—over, and over, and over, again.

As the sun began it set, it was another bus ride to the International Space Station Center, for a speedy run through the exhibits and a look at the sections of the Space Station that were next to be blasted into the stratosphere, and attached to the hovering laboratory.

We made the last shuttle back to the Visitor Center where most of the exhibits were already shut down. Figuring we would close down the park, we each scattered our separate ways to check out as much of the Center as possible before they kicked us off the premises. We had just enough time to see the Astronaut Memorial, find a sleeping crocodile in a nearby pond, and run through the shuttle Explorer.

What would a trip to a tourist trap be without ravaging the souvenir shop? It was a mad dash to purchase postcards, sweatshirts and NASA approved dehydrated space snacks. I got the inkling to purchase all of the reproduction patches (the ones worn on the jump suits from the various space programs), but chose to save my dollars for all-things-Disney. I really did like the sweatshirt with the NASA patches on the front, but let it go (Terry got one for herself). I had a slight suspicion that if the Kennedy Space Center had this style of sweat shirt, it was probably the latest fad in tourist attire. That meant Disney World would have something similar. As it turned out I was right, but more on that later.

It was now dark and NASA finally shut its gates behind us. We headed into Cocoa Beach without a map. A silly disappointment started to come over me. I had hoped to spend a little time in this town. It would have been fun to go to Ron Jon’s Surf Shop and get some new Aloha shirts (one can never have too many). Or, at least try to find Major Nelson’s house and Genie! (OK, OK, I know. Their house was a set on a television studio in Los Angeles.) If you remember when we started our trip, the airline ticket agent gave us the name of a restaurant we had to check out—Dixie Crossroads. Somehow, we got directions and took what seemed like a very long drive off the highway to this seafood eatery. It turned out to be a huge place, although this night the tourist crowd was rather sparse.

After a long day of space exploration and not much to eat, it was great to sit down to dinner. The seafood was pretty good. Their specialty was rock shrimp, which I wish now I had gotten the “all you can eat” special. Instead, I tried one of their many seafood combo plates. It seemed like there was at least a half dozen side dishes included with the entrée, all of which were nice.

Bloated and tired, we made our way back to Orlando and the timeshare. This time, we took the Beeline Expressway (Hwy. 528), which was certainly a quicker drive than Hwy. 50. Before collapsing, we turned on the tube to get an update on the election. No new developments to report. Tomorrow would be another day back on the Disney property. We needed our beauty sleep, so we turned off the news and dreamt strange dreams of shellfish in outer space…

Quote for the Day
“Tomorrow offers new frontiers in science, adventure and ideals: the Atomic Age… the challenge of outer space… and the hope for a peaceful and unified world.” (Walt Disney)

Thursday, November 9, 2000 / Day: 6 of 15 / “It Takes a World Showcase to Raise a Disney Fanatic.”

The struggle toward consciousness seemed a little easier this morning. What could make a change in the sleep pattern? Was the old body clock finally adjusting? Nah. It was the anticipation of EPCOT, of course. Yep; a whole wonderful day at the “Experimental Prototype Confines of Tourists.” It had been seven long years since Terry and I last walked around World Showcase and Future World. I was looking forward to this day, to take in the sights, sounds and tastes that I vaguely remember from our last visit. My hope was to have fun showing off the park to family who had never been, and to not experience the “You’re-Too-Old-For-This-Place” feeling I had in the Magic Kingdom. How can you go wrong with a day of music and food from around the world, plus innovative exhibits celebrating the spark of Man’s ingenuity?

We decided on another healthy breakfast in the time share, since we needed to save our decadent food quota for the snacks in EPCOT. Not only would we be eating our way around World Showcase, the annual “Food and Wine Festival” was taking place. This meant lots of food kiosks and dishes to sample (one of my favorite ways to eat!).

The morning television shows continued to be all a twitter over the unresolved Presidential election. (“Too bad. Can’t be bothered with it. This is EPCOT Day.”) Reality would have to wait. With a slam of the front door and hearty “Heigh-Ho TransAm,” we were off to EPCOT’s parking lot. We entered the park and stood for a moment in front of Spaceship Earth and the “Cemetery of the Future.” Yeck! What a ghastly marketing idea. To turn a flower bed courtyard into a puke-colored marble memorial to the year 2000, really was a mistake.

Standing there, an old temptation took over. I went into “Commando” mode. You’re probably asking, “What happened to the ‘Inner Rastafarian’ you discovered a couple days ago?” Well, my “Inner Compulsive Tour Guide” started to take over. (“We’re going to do it right today, I tell you, and we’re keeping to the schedule!”)

I quickly informed the clan I was going to run over to Test Track and get FastPass tickets. The gang was instructed to rent lockers, go to Guest Relations, and meet back at Spaceship Earth. Terry went to Guest Relations to see if she could secure another “Today Is My Birthday” button.

“Wait a minute,” you might be asking, “You officially celebrated your birthday a couple days ago. What are you up to?” Well, you caught us. We thought we could, perhaps, collect a different birthday button from each of the theme parks. As it turns out, only the Magic Kingdom offers this premium. Terry did however do a good sell. The Cast Member gave her a little Mickey plush with magnet hands that clipped together. (“Wow! A birthday gift from Disney World!”) I rolled up the sleeve on my “Mickey-With-Surfboard-And-Woody” t-shirt and proudly displayed the mouse throughout the day.

Incidentally, for a guy who hadn’t been to EPCOT in seven years, I had a strange experience running to get FastPass tickets. I ran through Innoventions Eastside, past Wonders of Life and onto Test Track, as though I knew where I was going. I was running from memory and did a pretty good job (no, I didn’t look at a map). All the while, I thought: “Ooh, look at that! That’s new. I forgot about that. Hey, I’m back in EPCOT!”

Out of breath, I found the family back at Spaceship Earth, which appeared to have a long line. (“Oh, no! We’re not doing that again! I’m not going to waste the whole morning on a ride with a ridiculously long wait!”) But, how could I deprive my family the pleasure of going on Spaceship Earth as their very first attraction at EPCOT? I found a nearby Cast Member and grilled him about the real length of the wait. He assured me that I was being paranoid in thinking that there are sensors in the queue, which automatically shut down the ride the moment a tourist in “Commando” mode gets in line. (He may be telling the truth, but I still think there are sensors hidden in those stainless steel posts that make up the lines.)

It would appear that Uncle Walt was smiling down on us. The wait was short and the ride didn’t break down. We were soon revolving up and down the interior of the “Great Golf Ball of Communication.” An observation: This ride, more than any other at WDW, gave me a nostalgic feeling of riding a Disney attraction from childhood. Perhaps it’s the slow steady motion through different scenes, with an inspirational, yet educating narrative. Maybe it's the silly, but hopeful view of a perfect society in the future, told through silly, but fun visual effects. Whatever it is, it was a good first ride.

It was disappointing though, to discover the restaurant reservation terminals didn’t exist anymore when you exit the attraction. Oh well, our plan was to have lunch in Morocco, and our experience was that Restaurant Marrakesh was never busy. We stepped outside to Millennium Central where we were approached by trash can drummers, comical Cavemen, rubber ball vendors, and dancing waters. The icy exterior of Ice Station Cool caught our eye, so we made our way through the frigid labyrinth, toward Coca-Cola’s sugar waters of the world. We found an unoccupied dispenser and began sampling various international soft drinks. I knew about “Beverly” and before I could suggest that someone try it, Terry took a big guzzle. From what I had read on-line, I was expecting her to spew it out of her mouth. Instead, she looked puzzled and said “That's strange.” Tina took a big swig and began analyzing the contents. So much for a great gag trick on the family! The consensus: Grapefruit juice (ala “Fresca”) and anise seed.

“Where do we go next?” My Commando mentality was beginning to wane. What the heck, we’re in Future World. We might as well stay here and do some attractions. The glass pyramids of Imagination were in sight. (“Has anyone seen ‘Honey I Shrunk the Audience’? No? Great.”) Now would be a good time to check it out. But, before we did, we needed to send email postcards to family and friends back home.

We entered through the exit of “Journey Into Your Imagination” (I knew enough to not even suggest this ride to the family). We soon found ourselves playing with the light, sound and motion exhibits. Eventually, we made our way over to the Kodak email terminals. This was another suggestion I had read about online and had brought a lengthy list of addresses (Tina and Matt had brought their own list too). We quickly discovered that you can only enter a limited number of addresses (four, I believe?) with each virtual postcard. On top of that, the whole process is VERY slow. It took about five minutes to go through the instructions, take a snapshot of the group, write a message and sent it off (not including having to wait for other guests to finish their time at the kiosk). We went through this process about ten times; nearly an hour of quality “morning touring” time wasted. At least when it was over, we had fulfilled our “The-weather-is-great. Wish-you-were-here” obligations and had saved some money on postcards.

It was time for “Honey I Shrunk the Audience.” The theater was full and the audience excited. There were plenty of screams and laughs throughout the film. A much better experience than my first viewing of this 3-D film back at Disneyland. The first time I saw it, there were about 50 people in the theater, and I don’t think one person even chuckled. (Now that I think about it, I had the same experience the first time I saw “Captain EO.” in the same theater. There was dead silence as the audience filed out the building. That is, until a teenager cut through the silence, yelling: “That Sucked!”)

Our FastPass tickets were now valid, so we headed across Future World to ride Test Track for the first time. Our ears were filled with the buzzing din of bright yellow cars speeding around the perimeter of the building. There was a 25 minute wait inside, which was enough time to view the props and exhibits, and get very irritated by the loud soundtrack. Eventually, we were strapped into our sporty convertible. For an EPCOT attraction, I was rather pleased with this ride. It seemed like the right balance of fun and education, with a thrill factor that most families could enjoy. I wasn’t expecting the acceleration to be very exciting, but found it to be a good enough rush, if too short. The pulsating brakes at the end of the ride, along with the smell of burnt rubber and little shreds of tire tread on the track, did give me pause.

Enough of Future World. It was time to hit the countries. Taking the breezeway next to the Odyssey Center, we took a couple shots of Spaceship Earth and then headed toward Showcase Plaza. That’s when it happened. I took a long panoramic gaze of the lake and was filled with Disney Magic (if you’re a Disney fanatic, I’m sure you understand). I stood there and could only think: “God, I love this place!” I was filled with EPCOT-ness (I can’t explain it any other way).

As we headed toward Canada, I was struck with another wave of joy. I saw our first Food & Wine Festival kiosk. I love food festivals. There are plenty of them back home in Seattle during the summer months. It’s our way of worshiping the six weeks of consistent sunshine we receive each year. Terry saw the Poland booth, and since it’s her maternal heritage, we ran over and ordered a couple Keilbasas and Pierogies. Terry really enjoyed them. I thought the portions could be bigger, but it was food (glorious food!) so I couldn’t really complain.

What is it about World Showcase that’s so intoxicating? I think it goes back to my passion for Imagineering (“Expressing truth through the metaphor of story within and through physical space”). I think World Showcase is special because it affirms a common link found in humanity, through the uniqueness of cultures. Food, drink, architecture, rituals, dance, music, apparel… common to all people groups, yet so astonishingly different and wonderful in their own ways. And here, presented without the stain of war, prejudice or tragedy. Is EPCOT reflective of the real world? If you mean the world climate we live in, of course not. But, if you mean a world where goodness and decency are the ideals, then yes. (Note: I wrote this lofty prose before September 11, 2001.)

We spent the next few hours strolling around the lake, stopping at different shops and exhibits. We didn’t view the films of Canada, France or China because I wanted to make sure we made it to all of the countries before the evening shows began. As we visited each country, something would catch our eye and we would take a leisurely look-see. Terry made sure we had purchased EPCOT Passports earlier in the day. She and Tina would run into a gift shop, or up to a children’s craft table, to get their books signed and stamped.

Ready for a real lunch, we approached Morocco and headed toward the back street. We were escorted into the cool white dining room of Restaurant Marrakesh, with its ornate mosaics and friezes. In the middle of the room was a three-piece band playing exotic tunes, and a belly dancer gyrating her tempting moves. Sadly, the restaurant was nearly empty (as usual). Our waiter came over to answer questions about the menu, while a couple other stewards buzzed around the table. All of the servers were extremely polite and friendly. In fact, their politeness was nearly apologetic, almost to the point of being irritating. It seemed like a cultural thing. What proof do I have for this sociological observation? Twenty minutes earlier, we had been in the France Pavilion. Two French Cast Members were walking down the street, laughing and chatting. When I stopped them to ask a simple question, their countenance changed to serious, reserved and irritated. Maybe I interrupted a good joke, but the same composure could be found on the faces of most of the French employees. This is a dramatic change to the visage found next door in Morocco, where they act like they would pay you to be their guest.

The menu looked so good, I wanted one of everything, and settled on a combo plate. Not knowing exactly why (something was lost in the translation) our waiter challenged me to a manly dare of Moroccan hot sauce, which was fine with me; I love spicy food. All of the dishes were terrific, including the hot mint tea poured from the silver pot three feet above the table.

With tummies extremely full, we made our way over to the American Adventure. Terry and I were excited to be here, since a few days earlier we had stood backstage during the “Behind the Magic” tour. Tina and Matt listened politely as we babbled on about what we had seen and what they were about to experience. The excellent Voices of Liberty were singing in the foyer, helping to keep the afternoon siestas away from the audience. The show was enjoyable to watch, especially knowing “how it's all done.” Although not as blatant as the Hall of Presidents at the Magic Kingdom, I am a bit stupefied by the script for the show, which seems to emphasize the failures of America, over and against its achievements. Is postmodern patriotism really that guilt ridden? Could you image Disney ever attempting to compose a similar script for one of the other countries?!

We continued to the other countries with the sun slowly setting in the horizon. The darkened lake-side walkway became illuminated by the flames of the giant torches encompassing the lake. The crowds began lining up behind roped off areas; the evening parade would soon arrive. We rushed to finish our tour of World Showcase by imitating Chevy Chase from the first “Vacation” movie (you know, when Chevy Chase looks at the Grand Canyon, nods his head and tells his family “O.K. Let's go.”). We grabbed a wonderfully decadent cookie/dessert thing in Germany, looked around China, spent a little time in the Stave church in Norway (but didn't ride Maelstrom due to the long line), and made a quick visit of Mexico. With all the countries out of the way, we ran back toward the United Kingdom. Weeks earlier, I had tried to make priority seating for the Rose and Crown at 7:30pm, but couldn’t get it. The idea, from online suggestions, was to get patio seating, have a leisurely English dinner, then watch the Illuminations show from our seats. Any chance of a last-minute table opening? No way. Oh well. There were plenty of Festival food kiosks to check out still. The rest of the evening was spent: (1) Running to various food stands, (2) Getting close enough to the “Tapestry of Nations” parade to catch a glimpse, (3) Saving space along the lake to see “Illuminations,” and (4) Trying not to feel claustrophobic as thousands of people crowded in.

I foolishly parked our group north of the United Kingdom. I wasn’t familiar with the parade routes, and as to which sections were off-limits. Although a heavily trafficked area, we were eventually able to stand against the railing above the island at International Gateway, where a private catered reception was going to take place later on in the evening. The crowds started pushing in so tightly, an “Alpha Male” instinct rose up inside. I wanted to start marking the territory around our group (just kidding). Instead, I directed Tina and Matt toward France so they could watch the end of Tapestry of Nations parade (Terry and I would catch it on another night). They returned not that impressed. That’s funny. I read online that it was the best parade ever… hmmm. Terry returned back to the group with several plates of international tidbits. Not as good as sitting down to English Toad in the Hole or Spotted Dick, but it was still good. (What? They don’t serve that at the Rose and Crown?)

The lights dimmed and a clear booming voice spread across the waters. A metallic globe in the middle of the lake lit up, inspirational music swelled and fireworks exploded. A very pleasant show, but I was surprised to feel somewhat under-whelmed. It took me awhile to figure it out. I think I had Fantasmic!-like expectations for the show, which it wasn’t, and didn’t deserve.

For a while we hung back, waiting for the huddled masses to make their way out of the turnstiles. We marched slowly behind the crowds, stopping for a moment to take pictures of the illuminated water fountain. Eventually, we made our way to the lockers, out to the rental car and back to the timeshare.

We turned on the TV again to catch the election updates. Channel after channel, all that could be found were talking heads yelling at each other about the hijacking of the election. An interesting line of dialogue was beginning to emerge. People in Southern Florida are really stupid. Gee. We’re vacationing in the State of “Challenged Pollsters.” Glad we’re in Central Florida. Again, it felt strange not to focus a lot attention on the election, specifically, trying to understand all of the details of the conflict. But, there wasn’t anything we could do but get anxious. Tomorrow was going to be a quieter day (the midpoint of our vacation) and the last day with family. It seemed right to call it quits and head for bed.

Quote for the Day
“All the races of man have been dramatizing these eternal quests and conquest of mind and heart; in arenas, around tribal fires, in temples and theaters. The modes of entertainment have changed through the centuries; the content of public shows, very little.” (Walt Disney)

Friday, November 10, 2000 / Day: 7 of 15 / “Bubba’s Bodacious Bayou Boats Excursions” and “Gettin’ Naked at Walt Disney World”

Consciousness came easy this morning. My hope was this was the beginning of a new waking pattern. Today was also the mid-way point of our vacation, which seemed too incredible to take in. (“How can time fly by so quickly, with so much left to do?!”) We still had half of the Disney parks to visit, and so much more. Take today for example. It was scheduled for relaxation, recharging the ol’ batteries, and discovering a little more of Florida outside of Orlando proper.

During the trip planning days back home, I had wanted to visit the Everglades, but knew that meant at least one overnight trip away from the timeshare. Not wanting to budget for additional lodging, we decided to visit a local wetland to take a swamp boat ride. I knew enough not to expect a “Blue Bayou” where we could see fireflies, watch little boats full of tourists float by, or listen to the strands of “Oh Susanna” playing on a distant banjo (sans Disneyland’s Pirates of the Caribbean). But, I was hoping for a “Gentle Ben” experience: A hydroplane boat, dense trees growing out of muddy water, Spanish moss dripping from every limb, dozens of gators within safe distance, and Clint Howard waving to us from the shore (OK, maybe not that). The online search for hydroplane tour companies didn’t produce many options, so we decided to wait and scour through the hundreds of tourist brochures waiting for us in Orlando. There appeared to be two primary businesses. Selecting the one closest to us, we sped off to the southern reaches of rural Kissimee for our morning excursion.

After a half hour’s drive through the countryside, we turned off the road and into a remote park-like setting, nestled alongside a huge lake. A down-home lady greeted us from an old ramshackle house, which had been converted into a souvenir shop. Our captain was out with another group and would be returning shortly. Walking down to the shore, the air boat appeared on the horizon. A short time later he was moored up to the dock. Jumping into the vessel, we met our driver for the next hour. If any citizen from the great state of Florida was worthy of the name “Bubba,” this guy was it. Six feet high, five feet wide, red below the hairline and above the shoulders, and the verbal command of a one-syllable lexicon (“Not that there’s anything wrong with that…”). Considering how deafening the giant fan on the back of the boat was, any colorful narrative from our Guide seemed out of the question. No loss. My sister is a great source of botanical and avian trivia, and was able to answer most of our questions while we toured.

We took off across the lake, making a few stops in pockets of open marsh to watch dozens of migrating birds. There were plenty of heron, ospreys, egrets, cormorants and a couple eagles in nests up on top of the trees. Eventually, we turned into a dense swamp and began looking for gators. Sadly, we didn’t find any (we would have to make do with the one we saw at the Kennedy Space Center). We did though, see several families of swamp deer, which were wonderful to observe. After some time floating in the quiet green forest, we headed back to port. For just a moment, I turned around and thought I saw a boy walking away arm-in-arm with a black bear… but dismissed it as a nostalgic Baby Boomer TV mirage.

We thanked Bubba for his expert nautical skills and headed back to the car. Along the way, we were met by a couple of large storks looking for a handout. They stood at least five feet tall. Of course, Terry went running toward them—albeit cautiously. After a couple snapshots, it was back to the Vistana Resort for a relaxing afternoon.

For Terry, this was her day for pampering. Since I’m the one who had designed the trip’s agenda, Terry’s one vacation request was to indulge in an activity she would really enjoy—a visit to the Disney Institute Spa. Originally, we were going to both spend the day at the Institute, that is, back when it actually was an Institute. I was going to take classes on animation, cooking and Imagineering, and Terry would soak the day away. Sadly, we were too late. The Institute’s individual programs had long been cancelled (yet another Eisner inspiration gone belly up). The revised plan was for me to take the “Architecture of Walt Disney World” tour, but alas, that too had expired. The third plan was to spend the afternoon with my sister and brother-in-law, but they decided to hang out at the timeshare and relax. No problem. I would drop Terry off at the Spa and spend the afternoon running around Orlando on my own.

We drove to the north side of the Disney property and found our way to the empty grounds of the Disney Institute. Walking toward the Spa, an athletic couple jogged passed us, entering the building we were headed into. They were both tall, lean, bronzed, and had an air of affluence (or narcissism, whichever description you prefer). It reminded us of what we had left behind when we moved from West Los Angeles four years ago. We had arrived a little early for Terry’s appointment, so we took a quick look around the public areas. The svelte couple ahead of us checked in, and as they got out of earshot range, the Cast Members at the front desk became all atwitter. It turned out that they were some famous soap opera couple who were in town for the Disney Soap Opera Festival. Sorry, I can’t tell you who they were, or the show’s name, because I don’t remember and really didn’t care.

As I said goodbye to Terry, I asked the front desk what time I should pick her up. The nice cast member told me, and then offered me opportunity to visit the men’s spa. Not a free facial or use of exercise equipment, but access to the Jacuzzi tub. At first I didn’t know what to think. It’s not like I had brought my swim suit, but then it occurred to me that I probably didn’t need one (duh). The attendant gave me a locker key and a tour of the place. The layout was similar to most gyms—locker room, showers, dry and wet saunas, and a hot tub, but this one was much nicer than your average sweat lodge. Fresh fruit, newspapers and fluffy towels greeted you, plus intense eucalyptus oil in the steam room. No one else was using the facility, so I jumped from shower, to tub, to spa, in an attempt to remember a Japanese bathing ritual I had read about in a travel magazine. Soaking under the bubble jets was glorious. It had been a very long time since I had the opportunity to steep in hot water, thinking about nothing. Yep, a really long time… long before all of the trip planning… long before the purchase of the house… before escrow, carpeting and paint… before the depression of turning Forty. My only conscious thought was: “Thank you, Uncle Walt, for another Magic moment on this vacation.”

With my head barely above water, something prompted me to look up. I discovered the Cast Member standing over me, smiling, with a terry robe in hand. He had forgotten to give me one earlier. I surmised that, perhaps, you aren’t supposed to run around a Disney Spa butt naked, or maybe I had worn out my welcome. He invited me to stay longer, but more guests were slowly coming in. The silence of the quiet time was broken, so I started my way out. In the locker room, I noticed a dozen Disney employees who had gotten off work and were now coming in. This seemed like another sad indication as to how empty the Institute was; that the majority of the occupants were employees.

The rest of the afternoon was spent taking pictures around WDW and checking in on Tina and Matt. After a couple hours, I picked up Terry who was glowing with brand spanking new skin, looking very relax and extremely happy. She had gotten the Warm Seafoam Mud Wrap and massage treatment, and thoroughly enjoyed herself.

We collected the rest of the gang at the timeshare and headed out for dinner. Originally, there were no particular plans for this meal, but I guessed that everybody might enjoy some Southern cuisine. I went ahead and made Priority Seating for Boatwright’s Dining Hall. As we entered the Dixie Landings Resort, we were blasted by an immense explosion of noise. The sound of hundreds of screaming, laughing and complaining children, and their parents, bellowed out of the hotel. On top of which was the din of a very loud piano player, with drunken adults singing old-time favorites in the bar just off the lobby. The whole place was a mad house. Why would anyone in their right mind want to stay here? (Is this is the usual decibel level for this place?!) We made our way to the restaurant, found our name on the list, were given a pager, and were told it would be a fifteen minute wait. I escorted the family out of the clamor to take a quick stroll around the grounds so they could catch a glimpse of the fun architecture.

We returned to the reception desk and proceeded to wait another ten minutes. Verifying that we were still on the priority list, a smiling Cast Member replied: “Yes you are. It shouldn’t be much longer.” We waited another ten minutes, then another ten, then another ten… and, just for good measure, another ten. We checked back twice; each time we were met with a smiling face who informed us that it wouldn’t be long. An hour and fifteen minutes later, we were seated. I politely commented to our escort (with a dash of sternness) that Priority Seating didn’t seem to be working too well tonight. She countered with: “Priority Seating is right on track. Here you are. Enjoy your meal,” and turned away with a big smile.

“What?” How could she say something like that? No apologies; no explanation. Just a happy grin, like everything was copasetic. As I sat stewing over the menu, it slowly occurred to me that I had experienced this same attitude/excuse somewhere else on the trip. Where was it? Oh, yeah; on Space Mountain. Two hours in line without moving and all that the rocket-launcher could say was: “Everything is fine. Have a nice flight.” Is this some new kind of scheme? Smile and deny that the guest’s complaint even exists? Maybe it’s a power game, where the Cast Member gains the upper hand by leaving their guest standing dumbfounded. A new way to reduce grievances? Who knows.

By now we could have eaten a cow if they had plopped one on the Lazy Susan. Our waitress came over and we immediately ordered our meal, along with a “Southern Sampler” appetizer platter. We were very thankful when the fried cheese and buffalo wings (my, what Southern cuisine!) came out in five minutes. With something in our bellies and feeling a little more content, we sat back and waited for our meal. And waited… and waited… and waited. An hour went by. The conversation ebbed (it was too loud to talk), the chicken bones were thoroughly pecked over and every drop of marinara sauce licked out of the dipping cup. Finally, plates of “Southern” food were placed in front of us. This time, the waitress apologized and explained that they were short several cooks. We thanked her for explaining what was going on. At least one Cast Member we encountered at WDW had the decency to be honest with us!

I couldn’t wait to get out of there. Before we went back to “Casa de Timeshare,” we stopped at Downtown Disney so Tina and Matt could get some last-minute gift shopping done. This was their last night in Orlando. Even though they had fun, Tina and Matt are not Disney fanatics. One of their passions is NASCAR, so for them, there was crucial racing to be seen on this vacation. They would drive down to Homestead, Florida early next morning and would attend the Winston Cup the following day. After a short time in the shops, along with the obligatory stop in Gharidelli’s, we made it back to camp and hit the hay. This time, we didn’t spend any time watching the news. Like most Americans, if a national conflict isn’t resolved in 72 hours, our attention span fades and we get bored. (“Heck, if Dade County can’t elect a President while it’s still interesting, we’re just going to give up on watching their exploits!”) Maybe something more exciting will happen in the election later on…

Quote for the Day
“Keeping the attractions staffed properly… never letting your personnel get sloppy… never let them be unfriendly.” (Walt Disney)

“We train them to be aware they’re there mainly to help the guest.” (Walt Disney)

Saturday, November 11, 2000 / Day: 8 of 15 / “Ride the Revisions” and “It Takes a Millennium Village to Feed a Disney Fanatic”

Everyone was up bright and early this morning, even me. Matt and Tina had stayed up late packing, to be ready for an early departure and the second leg of their Florida vacation. The four of us had a quick breakfast together and then said our goodbyes. (“No time to waste. You two have got a long drive ahead of you. It’s been great showing you around WDW. Thanks for joining us. Buh-bye. Buh-bye now. Watch your step. Buh-bye.”)

We locked up the timeshare. Matt and Tina got in their rental car and headed down the highway south toward Homestead, Florida. A couple minutes later Terry and I were racing onto the WDW property. Today would be the second full day at EPCOT and we didn’t want to waste a minute. There were food festival kiosks to conquer, a parade to see, and the Millennium Village to explore.

On the way into EPCOT, I began to feel a little forlorn. Maybe it was the ugliness of the “Leave a Legacy” Piazza (“Millennium Mausoleum” is more like it). No, it was something else. Terry and I travel together just fine, but now that family had come and gone, the vacation seemed… well, a little lonesome with just the two of us. Who could we incessantly blabber to regarding our trip planning, the new house, our birds, or turning 40? (“I know! We’ll save our long-winded stories for the lucky readers of this trip report!”)

Today’s “To Do” list included a list of attractions we missed two days ago. It’s amazing how much we skipped in EPCOT with Tina and Matt; most of it in Future World. I think we made the right decision to spend most of our time in World Showcase, but the old axiom certainly is true: “You can’t do EPCOT in one day.”

Our first stop? A trip through the “Universe of Lesbian Energy” (sorry—uncalled for). We actually enjoy Ellen DeGeneres and were intrigued as to how Disney had incorporated her into the revision of this classic EPCOT attraction. We were fans of her show “Ellen,” especially before the controversy erupted. Terry used to work with Ellen’s mother in Los Angeles and we got to see the taping of Ellen’s pilot show back when it was called “These Friends of Mine” (now there’s some useless trivia for ya’).

Seven years ago, I remember being impressed by the traveling theater seats of this ride, but not the premise of the show, which seemed to be: “Your Friend The Oil Industry.” We knew Bill Nye was the new MC of the show (a Seattle find), so we figured it had to be good and more light-hearted. In turns out we enjoyed this new show immensely, up until the very end. Ellen had just completed the journey of her life, was about to answer the Final Jeopardy Challenge, and make Jamie Lee Curtis look bad, when the ride broke down. After deciding the attraction couldn’t be rebooted (or whatever the problem was) the technicians took 30 minutes to escort the riders out of the theater one car at a time (we were in the second to last vehicle). When they announced the show couldn’t continue, a funny thing happened. The crowd raised their voices in a loud query: “What’s the answer to the Jeopardy question?!” The technician laughed and recited the film’s dialogue, word-by-word, to the captive audience. Everyone cheered.

Back in the glaring sun, we headed toward the Wonders of Life for a quick ride on “Body Wars.” It’s interesting to notice how little of the dramatic pitch you experience inside the ride, as compared to observing the extreme tilt of the flight simulator on the outside (as we had on the Backstage Tour). After a quick look-see around the inside of the Wonders of Life giant wart canopy, it was off to Test Track, but the FastPass tickets were all sold out. Terry didn’t care if she went on the ride again, so I decided to wait for the end of the day and go as a single rider.

We made a mad dash across Future World to experience the newly revised “Journey Into Your Imagination,” which really should be called: “Journey Into Our Introspection.” I have a few fleeting memories of the original attraction, such as creaky wall dividers lowering down and separating your vehicle from the others, as you circle around an animatronic MC and his dragon. I remember a dark ride environment with background scenes made from wood cutouts, and a theme song that ranked second to “It’s A Small World” in its mind-drilling annoyance. The online discussions about this new version being terrible had prepared me for the worst. I forewarned Terry, and we were soon swept into a bizarre Wonderland. The first stop was the experience of being laser scanned, like a can of soup at a checkout counter. Actually, I thought the effect was kind of fun. Not so for the little English girl seated behind us, with her parents. She was very articulate and didn’t like the direction the ride was going (forget imagination; this girl had discernment!). After being told how empty our minds were, it was a succession of rooms which were supposed to symbolize what imagination is all about. The pretty butterfly and other non-threatening scenes seemed to pacify the little girl in the next car. That is until the last scene when the cannon explosion of smoke billowed out five feet from our faces. This idea had to be created by a single person. No parent in their right mind would have come up with such a boner of an idea. Needless to say, the poor girl screamed in terror (I almost joined her for the sheer stupidity of it all). Fortunately, the ride ended soon after. We were escorted out of our scarlet vehicles by a cheerless Cast Member, who probably had to deal with children in shock and livid parents a hundred times a day.

Was it the child-unfriendliness of the ride that made it so bad? No. It was something worse, which I hope for Disney’s future success, they will recognize. (Get ready, I’m about to mount my teetering philosophical soapbox). What’s the worst thing to happen to the human imagination in the past century? (Any takers?) In my opinion, it’s the soul-ish schism between the “head and heart.” I believe one of modernism’s little gifts to western society in the 20th Century was the conquest of “knowing about” reality primarily through information and introspection, over and against “knowing” truth via wisdom and discernment. Since western culture questions what Truth is (or as postmodernism suggests, there is no truth) humanity has to turn its gaze inward to see if it’s getting things right. Or as C.S. Lewis wrote, we are “Walking alongside ourselves.” No longer integrated with an imaginative gaze outward, toward God or others, we analyze life from within—what we think of reality, what others think of reality, what others think we’re thinking of reality, etc. I believe an integration of the head and heart was one of the key components to Walt Disney’s lifetime of success. He believed in truth and distinct values regarding life, community, imagination, etc., that resonated deep within him, not what others thought about the world, or himself. Now, what does all this have to do with a ride? Let me share with you how I imagine the “Journey Into Imagination” revision was concocted:

(Scene opens in a management meeting)
Team Leader: “First item of business: The Imagination ride at EPCOT is showing its age. We need to update the thing.”
Kissup: “What can we do? How do you ‘show’ imagination?”
Peon: “Hey, I had a dream the other night of roaming around the world, through time and space. I traveled into a Monet painting. Then, I traveled into Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. Then, through a Native American campfire story. Then, a Kabuki play. Then, an Aztec Astronomy chart. Then, Einstein’s blackboard. On and on it went, until I woke up. Maybe we can make a ride like that?”
Team Leader: “Nah. Our guests wouldn’t get it. We have to “instruct” people about imagination. Let’s get an Educator to explain what they need to know. In fact, let’s build a laboratory to show how desperate they are for imagination.
Kissup: “That’ll work!”
Team Leader: “Of course it will. I mean, we’re the ones with imagination. Right?”
Everyone: “Let’s do it!”
(Scene fades.)

My point? This attraction wasn’t conceived out of some imaginative spark from within the human spirit. It was created from a “bright idea.” A logical, rational, thought out, project-managed, under budget, merchandise-potential consideration. And sadly, it’s happening more and more within many avenues of the Disney franchise. Take a look at the “bright idea” that was created next to Disneyland in Anaheim. In fact, if you read the stories of how Disney’s California Adventure came into being, it was Executives sitting around a room trying to come up with a theme that FOLLOWED the fulfillment of their financial and marketing goals (i.e. “Imagination Follows Function”). Then, the Imagineers got to tack on their decoration. Viola’! Instant theme park! This is a heartbreaking turn of events. My hope is that Disney leadership (i.e. stockholders) will return to insisting that creative ideas be the impetus for all movies, products and attractions. (OK. OK. I’m getting off my soap box now.)

Fleeing the Imagination Pavilion, we attempted to lift our spirits by ducking into the temporary white tent that held a bevy of Disney Holiday merchandise. We were prepared to accomplish plenty of Christmas shopping in this place but found only a few items for family and friends. Years before Terry and I got married, I had been collecting the annual Disney Christmas disc ornaments, especially the ones that depict the company Christmas cards from years gone by. We found several discs to nab, which helped us feel like we accomplished something.

Entering World Showcase, we headed toward the Millennium Village. Here was another attraction we had missed with the family two days ago. I had read mixed reviews about this temporary exhibit and didn’t want to waste time if it wasn’t worth seeing. As it turned out, we both really enjoyed the Village. At first I found some of the exhibits—representing dozens of countries from around the world—to be a little strange, but quickly got into the mood of: “Show us what you got!” We especially enjoyed looking at all of the imported merchandise. My biggest experience of “souvenir lust” throughout the entire trip came when I spied an incredible wood inlaid Backgammon set from the Egypt pavilion. I think it cost $1,000, which was a little beyond our vacation souvenir budget. We arrived in time for lunch at the International food court, where my “food lust” came roaring back. Everything looked so good, though some entrees weren’t entirely exotic (can’t you get Pad Thai noodles in any American town nowadays?). No matter; there was African food, Asian food, Latin food, etc., to try. We narrowed down our selection to some meat and vegetable dishes and a couple desserts (coconut pie, yum!), and dug in.

As we blissfully ate away, we noticed the only queue in the Village. It turned out to be the line for the motion simulator film in the Israel pavilion. Since we were right there, we made it our next stop. Inside the theater, the announcer explained that you could watch the film without sitting in the moving seats, but we decided to go for the full effect. Perhaps because we had just finish eating, or my vertigo was acting up, things got quite queasy during the show. As for the movie itself, I thought it was brave of Disney to finally stop pretending that religion doesn’t exists in the world and allow a country to represent its faiths in the Village. I was expecting to see a film that explained a little about Judaism, Islam and Christianity. Instead, we got a promotional film from the Israeli Bureau of Tourism, with a time traveling “Abraham” as our guide. This seemed a little weird, but then, there are plenty of weird things done in the name of religion in America (e.g. animated vegetables as biblical heroes), so I couldn’t be too critical. Outside of the theater, we sat at a table so my stomach could settle down. An Israeli host came by and taught us how to write our names in Hebrew, and then we filled out little cards with our prayers for world peace, which would supposedly be sent to the Wailing Wall.

We made our way through the rest of the countries, taking in all of the great imports on display, and finally made it back out into the daylight. We give the Village two big thumbs up, and would love to see something similar permanently established at World Showcase.

Checking the day’s schedule, there was an “Off Kilter” show taking place in Canada. It was time to finally hear these guys after all I had read about them on the internet. Earlier on in the vacation, I had picked up one of their CDs. I told Terry this group was great—a combination of rock music and Celtic bag pipes. Then we listened to the CD. Sorry “Off Kilter” fans. What a let down! What bubblegum music! Back in Los Angeles, there was a band called “Brother” that used to play outside of the Hollywood Bowl, next to a gospel-singing-dog-puppeteer-guy… (like I said, weirdness in the name of religion). “Brother” could slap the kilts off of “Off Kilter” in a band competition. At least “Off Kilter” sounded better live than their recording. The only thing I can figure out which explains their fan loyalty is the sheer power of men in skirts (maybe it’s the plaid…).

After discovering that a “Beaver Tail” dessert is nothing more than an “Elephant Ear” from where we come from, we left Canada and continued our journey. We made it to France and watched the living statue/mime which was hilarious. It’s amazing how a one person could attract such a huge crowd. After a glass a wine, a French pastry and a couple sniffs of eau de toilette, it was a leisurely stroll over to Italy and then a second try of the incredible cookie-dessert thing we found in Germany. Another bout of “souvenir lust” came over me when I spotted a terrific candle-turning Nativity Pyramid in the Christmas store, but the price was way too steep. We took a long stroll through the China imports and then went to Norway where, once again we found a very long line for the Maelstrom ride. We decided to skip it. We headed to the final Pavilion and got in a little boat for “It’s A Small Mexico After All.” If memory serves me, this attraction was updated over the past seven years. Whether or not it has, it was an enjoyable ride.

It was now dark and the crowds were gearing up for the “Tapestry of Nations” parade. Terry wanted to catch the parade in front of Mexico, but I wanted to find a less crowded area. I pushed her toward Germany. When we got to the open Market area, she put her foot down and insisted that we stop and park it for the show. (“But honey, there may be a better spot up ahead.” “NO!”) We were finally going to see the great “Tapestry” parade, which the internet newsgroups touted as the best Disney parade ever… Sorry folks. I can’t agree. The show was decent, but it certainly didn’t stir me. In fact, I think the parade is antithetical to the origin concept of EPCOT. How? World Showcase is based (I believe) on the conviction that Humanity is best expressed through its diversity of cultures (“We are similar, in spite of our many differences”). The “Tapestry” parade (I believe) is based on the notion that humanity is best expressed through symbolic commonality (“We’re similar because… we’re similar”). Just look at the androgynous performers, the national-less, culture-less, genderless marionettes, the repetitive drumming, and swelling new-age music. Frankly, psychedelic “Burning Man”-looking puppets don’t say anything great about humanity, in my book. But, not all people agree. Standing next to us was a severe-looking woman in her mid-fifties, laughing and clapping her hands like a little girl (to each “its” own). I just wish the Entertainment Department that created this parade had left the concept with the Olympic Opening Ceremonies, from where it was obviously gleaned.

The Illuminations show would be starting on the lake in a half hour, but neither of us had any desire to see it again. It was a nice show, but not a big enough incentive to tackle the crowds again. So, it was off to Future World to catch a couple more rides. Terry went gift shopping while I got myself into the singles line at Test Track. The queue began just before the introductive movie—a waiting time 30 minutes shorter than with FastPass tickets two days ago. I was seated in the front row with a couple of excited kids who were riding for the first time, which made this second trip enjoyable. The next stop was going to be the MouseGear store, but then we got a glimpse of the reflective Universe of Energy building and decided to see if we could complete the ride. The attraction was operational, and the theater doors were just about to open to the travel vehicles. It was a great trip, and this time we got to see Ellen win the game (hurray!).

Back outside, the pathways around Spaceship Earth were jammed, as thousands of weary tourists were making their way towards various modes of transportation. Instead of joining them, we ran into MouseGear to do some serious credit card-melting souvenir shopping. It was sweatshirt time. As I had predicted at Kennedy Space Center, shirts with badges and sewn-on emblems were the new fad in “tourist wear.” I grabbed an oversized soft sweatshirt, decorated with insignias from each WDW park; very cool looking. Walking around some more, I found a dark grey hooded pull-over with Mickey and “2001” on the chest. I grabbed it too, but started to feel guilty. I grew up in a family with strict souvenir guidelines. Only one item per child, per annual trip to Disneyland; whether it be a giant lollypop, a giant map of the Park, a pirate telescope, or a shrunken head pendant from Adventureland (all of which were totally cool stuff! I wish I still had them). Neurotic frugalness started to take over as I stood at the cash register. Fortunately, Terry chastised me (“Get over it!”) and insisted that I purchase both, which I did. I’m grateful for her objectivity.

After examining almost every item in the store, it was out to the EPCOT parking lot, then a quick ride back to the timeshare. The evening ended by doing some laundry and watching “The Late Show” in bed, bypassing “Nightline” and other news programs. The unresolved election was still taking up most of the airtime and the Constitutional experts were continuing to blow steam out of their ears. We decided to go to bed laughing, instead of getting wound up in the national conflict. A much better way to end the day.

Quote for the Day
“It (reflects) the faith and challenge of the future, the entertainment, the interest in intelligently presented facts, the stimulation of the imagination, the standards of health and achievement, and above all, a sense of strength, contentment and well-being.” (Walt Disney, on Disneyland, but certainly applies to EPCOT)

Sunday, November 12, 2000 / Day: 9 of 15 / “Trip Report Amnesia” and “Food Reformation”

Today’s trip report is going to be short (OK, I hear you cheering!) The reason? Frankly, I don’t remember what happened. The calendar was originally scheduled for a day trip to Fort Meyers, to visit its wonderful white sand beaches, covered with pristine seashells. But as I mentioned in an earlier report, we realized it was too far of a drive to make on a simple day excursion. Instead, we ended up with a free time to run errands and to rest up.

What do I remember about this day? Mostly food. Today was the start of a new diet regiment. After a week of gorging on monstrously large meals, our bodies finally said “Stop!” Something inside balked at the thought of more rich cuisine and portions twice the size of our stomachs (one of the sins of American eating establishments). At most of the restaurants where we ate, whether it was on and off the Disney property, we found the servings to be gigantic and the caloric count over the top. Terry and I felt guilty about abandoning our diet regimen and made a pact to start eating more sensibly. Starting this day, we began to share meals. We ate much less and didn’t feel robbed. We even stopped ordering desserts (most of the time) with a new recognition of how full we were. After a week of: “We’re-Here!-We’re-On-Vacation!” excitement, the need to celebrate by means of overindulgence came to an end.

That doesn’t mean we stopped visiting restaurants. At some point in our vacation (perhaps on this day), we made it to “Sunny’s Barbecue,” as recommended by the airline ticket agent back in Seattle. We also visited a couple restaurant franchises that can’t be found on the West Coast. For example, I introduced Terry to the Cracker Barrel. I had been once, in the middle of Tennessee, and had enjoyed the food and the prices. We went back a couple more times during the second half of the trip. Each time we ate conservatively, sharing a dinner plate.

Other memories of this day were of being stuck in endless traffic on Hwy 192. Umpteen miles of the Boulevard were torn up for improvements. Driving at 10 miles an hour allowed us to great views of the tourist traps along the Strip, although none of them tempting enough to stop at. Terry had damaged her glasses the day before and she needed to get to a repair store. The only place that had the needed part was in “Outer Kissimee,” which made for an endless trek eastward. The trip took so long; it felt like we were going to see the Atlantic Ocean at any moment.

It may have been on this day that we discovered Publix grocery stores. I remember reading online postings warning about their high prices. We found this relatively true, but most surprising was the large selection of natural food items. We were a bit humbled. We assumed local stores wouldn’t carry the items we normally purchase in Seattle, but here they were. They even had our almond milk, the stuff we carried in our luggage and had to pay weight charges for.

This may have been the afternoon when we took a trip to “Celebration,” Disney’s utopian housing community, just outside of Walt Disney World Proper. Being a frustrated (and failed) architect, I was expecting to be wowed by this pseudo-Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow. Although there were some terrific urban and pedestrian details to make note of, such as the design behind the peaceful suburban streets, the downtown center felt a bit contrived, even insincere. It was a nice afternoon visit, but we felt no rush to come back on future vacations, except maybe to plant illegal pink flamingo statuettes on the perfectly manicured lawns.

I do remember that on this evening we ventured into Disney’s nightclub complex Pleasure Island. We had been once, seven years ago, and had enjoyed the various music, dance and comedy venues. This night was a more “sobering” experience, as the ugly effects of alcohol were pronounced. Loud, stumbling inebriates were everywhere; a disquieting sight to behold at a Disney “park,” especially when Security came to escort them away. Within a couple of clubs, the worn out décor was saturated with the smell of booze and smoke, creating the atmosphere of a West L.A. nightclub, rather than Walt Disney World entertainment. We spent most of our time in the two most popular venues: the Comedy Warehouse and Adventurers Club. Sadly, even the comedy troupe this night was off. After 20 minutes of blatant hints, the improve Intern still couldn’t guess the right quote suggested by the audience. But not everything was miserable. How can you not have fun when singing “Marching along, we’re Adventurers; Singing the song of Adventurers; Up or Down, North, South, East and West; An Adventurer’s life is best!”

Although an unusual day, tomorrow we would be back on the Disney property for some roller coaster action, freefalling, and our first viewing of the East Coast version of “Fantasmic.”

(See, I told you it was going to be a short report!)

Quote for the Day
“My operations are based on experiences, thoughtful observation and warm fellowship with my neighbors at home and around the world.” (Walt Disney)

Monday, November 13, 2000 / Day: 10 of 15 / “Six Flags Over Disney” and “You Call That Fantasmic?!”

Today I jumped out of bed like “Mr. Bean” on Christmas morning. (“We’re going to Disney/MGM Studios!”) I was so excited, I ran into the shower. This would be our second visit to this park, after a seven year hiatus. We would get to ride the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror and the Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster for the very first time! Neither attraction existed when we first visited back in 1993. The Tower ride was nothing more than a tall crane behind a construction wall; the roller coaster was barely a glimmer in the eye of the Imagineers.

After a quick shower and a quicker bite to eat, we parked in the small Studio lot, ran through the Art Deco turnstiles and sprinted up Hollywood Blvd. Ooops. No. First, we had to stop at the lockers, then a bathroom break (pause, pause, wait, wait, stamp the foot, stamp the foot…). Finally! We ran toward Sunset Blvd., turned right, and came to a screeching halt in front of two Cast Members cording off the street with a large rope. The park hadn’t officially opened for the day. Oh well, at least we would be one of the first guests on the rides. The clock eventually ticked 9:00am. After a slow saunter down the street, the crowd exploded beyond the rope restraints and scattered in two directions:The Tower and The Coaster.

“What do we do first?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? What do the fan sites say to do first?”
“I don’t remember!”

I was choking under pressure. I couldn’t remember my endless Park trivia and the lines for the rides were filling up.

“There’s no wait on the Tower. We’ll get FastPasses for Rock N’ Roller Coaster first. Then we’ll go in the standby line for the Tower. Then, we’ll do the Coaster with FastPass, and back on the Tower if the line is still short.”

We started our assent up the daunting hill, climbing closer to the Tower. All of the praise I had read about the design of this ride seemed true. Creepiness exuded everywhere, from the weathered courtyard, to the eerie mist, to the nostalgic yet foreboding music playing in the background. (“Hey, that’s tacky; an empty water fountain. Oh. Duh. It’s an abandoned hotel. It’s not supposed to have water.”) A couple moments later we entered the dilapidated high rise. Gazing around the lobby, I was soon convinced that this is one of the best pieces of set decoration of any Disney attraction. The sense of abandonment, mystery and foreboding were wonderful! I expected to see Norma Desmond dancing among the cobwebs.

The queue came to a halt just outside the library door. A minute later we were herded into the paneled room by the pushy guests behind us. (“Where’s the next door?”) With a quick glance, we made our way toward the opposite corner of the library. The position didn’t offer a great advantage for viewing the room, but there was no time to notice. The antiquated TV crackled on from a mysterious lightening bolt, and Rod Serling began to narrate the premise of the ride to his captive audience. The wood paneling drew open and we dashed down the hall to the elevator/maintenance bay, where the queue split into two full lanes. Finally, we had a chance to stop and contemplate what we were about to do. I was concerned for Terry. I know how much she hates heights and freaks out on roller coasters, but she said she wanted to do this—at least once. Besides, this was a Disney ride. It wouldn’t be that bad, right? I was feeling a bit apprehensive myself. I love thrill rides, but my first experience on a free fall attraction was not that pleasant. I remember dangling high above the earth, looking out as far as the eye could see, then the complete and utter loss of control. The feeling was so intense, it almost hurt. Since then, I’ve been on a couple other free fall experiences, like one at the Edmonton Mall, which is in an enclosed building. The sensation wasn’t nearly as bad. I surmised that having walls surrounding a free fall ride lessens the sense of plunging to one’s death.

Our maniacal elevator operator escorted us to our seats, which were in the back right row of the iron cage. The doors closed. Our chance of escape was gone as we started our ascent up to the 13th floor (and into the 4th dimension). I had read a little bit about what you see on the journey upwards, but I wasn’t expecting such wonderful special effects. We eventually reached the top floor, and to the surprise of many in the car, we moved forward into the room. Frankly, I don’t understand the thought behind the Twilight Zone props dimly lit on either side of the hallway, but the shaft of light that grows and splits as the vehicle prepares for the drop was terrific. During the few seconds of suspension in utter darkness, I expected the elevator to travel up to the doors that open onto the outside. “Disney wouldn’t drop us now, would they?” You bet they would! Our stomachs were in our mouths with an unexpected short plunge. Everyone screamed (even me). It was then an accelerated assent up to the top, so we could wave good-bye to the cruel world below us. At that moment, I remembered a trick I learned on other free fall rides. I turned to Terry, and over the clamor of screaming passengers, yelled: “Hold your breath! Hold your breath and push down!” Before we knew it, we were plummeting down again into the darkness. Then up. Then down. Then up to the top again. Then down. Then… who knows what! I was certain Terry was freaking out, but I was having the time of my life. The drop sequence eventually came to a stop. We returned to solid ground and were escorted out of the elevator from hell. I asked Terry if she was OK. She mumbled something about surviving.

As we passed the instant photo booth, we took a look at ourselves on the ride. Our frozen expressions were that of being tortured rather than having fun, so we passed on purchasing the memento (not that we ever buy these kinds of souvenirs anyway). We made our way outside and had a rest on a bench. Terry was glad that she had done it, at least once, but vowed with the fervency of Scarlet O’Hara that she would never again step onto that ride! She did thank me for the hint. I didn’t know if she had heard me over the screaming, but she did, and it worked. For your information: If you inhale (i.e. gasp) while you’re plummeting down on a ride like a roller coaster, it creates a greater sense of being out of control. If you hold your breath, and push down in your stomach like you’re trying to… well, you know… it feels like you’re more connected to the vehicle and less out of control.

We had some time before the Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster FastPass tickets were valid so we headed down to the shops on Sunset Blvd. I gathered up the nerve to ask Terry if I could go on the Tower again, since the Standby wait was only 10 minutes. She had no problem with it. It would give her time to calm down, look in a couple shops, and then meet me at the exit of the ride. Again, I made my assent up the summit, into the Tower, and found a similar wait as the time before. This time, I was seated in the front row with a frightened mother and her amused teenage daughter. The ride was just as scary, but now that I knew what to expect, I allowed myself the enjoyment of the drop sequence even more. I’m still surprised that Disney made such an intense ride. It’s a very dramatic experience, but fun nonetheless. In fact, it’s now on my “Top 10 List” of favorite attractions. I know this will sound strange, but the ride reminded me of Boy Scout summer camp. There was a big tree that grew on the edge of the camp’s lake. A long rope swung over the lowest limb, dangling above the water. We would take turns being pulled up and then dropped into the water repeatedly. You didn’t know when you would fall (usually with a false start) or how high you would be pulled up. It was a game of trust; leaving yourself into the hands of your friends pulling the rope. I got the same feeling about the Imagineers who created this attraction; that they had a blast designing the drop sequence for their guests.

I met up with Terry and found her to be feeling much better. It was time for the Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster. Two thrill rides in one hour? Could she handle it? I encouraged Terry to pass on this one, but she insisted (I was so proud of her). From all that I had read, I assumed this attraction would be less intense than the Tower. I told her how smooth the ride was and that there wasn’t any real height to it. Just a 60 mile an hour acceleration in 3 seconds; no biggie. We entered the boring, bare courtyard and into the boring “can-we-say-budget-cuts” hallways of a mock recording studio. Finally, we entered the orientation room where we watched a film attempting to explain the meager storyline. The Master Thespians that are the members of Aerosmith invited us to join them for a wild ride. The video ended with Steve Tyler waiving goodbye as his limo screeched away. A big doofus of a guy in the back of the room yelled: “Aaahooo! Yeah! You gotta love that guy!”… There was stone silence. It was straight out of an episode of “The Simpsons,” when Homer says something stupid and the town of Springfield turns around and stares at him.

The embarrassing moment was interrupted by the doors swinging open. We entered the “alley” just in time to watch a coaster train hurl into the tunnel of darkness. I figured Terry would be fine as long as we weren’t seated in the front row. One guess as to where we were seated! I reminded Terry to hold her breath, but the blast of acceleration was so intense (albeit smooth) it was impossible not to gasp. In the pitch blackness, florescent painted L.A. freeway signs whizzed by (“Hey! Where’s the graffiti and barbed wire?”). We entered the first loop. Then, upside-down again, with a twist; then another loop. I’m pretty good at spatial perception, but by this time I was completely discombobulated. We reached the first braking station, and from then on the ride was much tamer as we twisted and turned in the darkness to the lovely refrains of “Love in an Elevator.” I must confess I’ve never liked Aerosmith (bubblegum rock, if you ask me). I know I’m in the minority, but… “Disney! What were you thinking? A song about fornication on public transportation?!” The stretch limo train came to a stop, supposedly backstage of the concert Aerosmith had promised we could attend. What a shock to find we had been dumped in front of a concession stand, hawking Aerosmith t-shirts. Actually, we were in one of Disney’s proverbial “BDB” gift shops. What’s “BDB”? It’s my nickname for the retail gauntlets Disney requires you course through before you exit a ride. It stands for: “Buy! Damn’it. Buy!”

We made it outside. Again, Terry was feeling overwhelmed. She thought the take-off on this ride was worse than the drops in the Tower. I was feeling a bit woozy myself. I have a reoccurring vertigo problem (Meinere’s Disease) which I try to ignore, but my messed up inner ear didn’t much enjoy the loops in the dark. We decided to call it quits for the day, as far thrill rides were concerned and spent the rest of the time on slow moving vehicles. (Sigh… another sign of middle age.) First stop on our kinder, gentler tour was The Great Movie Ride. We meandered our way to Graumans’s Chinese Theater and entered the world of American Cinema. Our perky tram driver was genuinely fun to listen to as we progressed though classic scenes from celluloid. The ride did seem to be showing its age, but I’m certainly glad it still exists and hope the rumors of it being replaced are unfounded.

Feeling much better and now a little hungry, it was time for our “reservation” at the Prime Time Café. I made it for 11:30am hoping to beat the lunch rush. Like most of our experiences with Disney’s Priority Seating, our wait averaged an hour. Do guests with “P.S.” always wait this long at sit-down restaurants within the parks and hotels? I can’t imagine it being the norm, but it certainly was our experience on this trip. After sitting in the crowded Fifties-style lobby watching “I Love Lucy” reruns, we were eventually seated. The first thing we noticed was a commotion at the table next to us. For some reason the father of a large family had disappointed the waiter and was instructed to stand with his nose against the wall. (“Uh-oh. It’s another one of those restaurants where they try to embarrass you, like Whispering Canyons. Please, oh please, don’t make me run around on a hobby horse again!”) Terry and I are primarily introverts and don’t care to be the focus of attention. Our waitress arrived and greeted us with some loud and cantankerous ribbing, but quickly sized up our personality types (i.e. party poopers), so she let us eat mostly in peace. We ordered a peanut butter and jelly milk shake as recommended on the internet, plus Momma’s old fashion meatloaf and a Smores dessert to cleanse the pallet (this is one of those times when we broke our diet, again). It was all nice comfort food; better than most of the other park meals we had experienced. I got a sticker for cleaning my plate; Terry received only half a sticker for leaving some green beans behind.

We waddled back out into the warm Florida sun (no humidity!). At this point, I was pretty much satisfied with my day at the Studios and didn’t really care what we did for the rest of afternoon. We did meander around, taking in the atmosphere, looking at shops, and entered a show or attraction if we timed it right. It was nice to see the MuppetVision 3-D movie again. I remember it being a favorite attraction last time we were here. I kept a look out for “a net full of jello” (Annette Funicello) in the lobby, but we didn’t have enough time to find it. The audience gave the show only a couple mild chuckles. Perhaps they had seen it too many times. Next, we sat in the dark for a very long time, in the odd “Sounds Dangerous” show. The last time we were at this attraction, it was a sound effects demonstration and I got to stand on the stage and scratch my feet in gravel. We skipped Star Tours since we’ve been on it umpteen times at Disneyland, and missed the Indiana Jones Stunt show because of bad timing. We headed across to the other side of the park and took in the Magic of Disney Animation. We really enjoyed this walk-thru attraction; we had missed it on our last visit. We passed on the Backlot Tour tram, as we remember it being kind of lame, except for Catastrophe Canyon effect.

Terry wanted to see the “Mulan” Parade, so we headed down Hollywood Blvd. and parked it on a curb in front of The Darkroom store. I ran into a shop, waiting for the parade to arrive, but soon ran back out when the growing crowds started to vie for my empty seat. The architecture on the Boulevard is probably my favorite part of the Studios. I love identifying the old landmarks, and the nostalgic rush I get for a Hollywood that never was. If we had stayed in L.A. and had not moved to Seattle, I seriously considered starting a small tour company. I had a name and motto picked out: “A.R. Tours: If we don’t provide long-winded, detailed information, we’re not doing our job!” (A.R. would stand for “anal retentive,” but we wouldn’t tell anyone!) Getting back to the parade… Chinese music filled the air and the elaborate parade began to stroll down the street, with a soundtrack loud enough to make us by-standers go deaf. This brings up an important observation: Walt Disney World is loud! Everywhere; it’s loud! I know this is the era of “Dolby-THX-Home-Movie-Blow-You-Out-Of-The-Water” sound, but so much of the volume at Walt Disney World is over the top. Next time we come to Orlando, I’m bringing high quality ear plugs.

Not having kids of our own, we had no compulsion to see “Doug Live” or “Bear in the Big Blue House.” Personally, I don’t like “Live on Stage!” shows (why sit and stare at actors when you can be on a ride), but Terry insisted that we watch at least one. So, it was off to “The Hunchback of Notre Dame.” What I dislike about Disney stage shows is how they rehash the same storyline from the movie. Hasn’t everyone in America already seen the movie, and doesn’t everyone own a copy of the video? Wouldn’t it make sense to have a stage show called: “The Further Adventures of Hunchback: Reformation’s Revenge,” or something like that? Well, at least Terry enjoyed the show (middle age is making me crotchety, I guess).

As the sun was setting, we noticed maintenance men finishing the installation of the Osborne Family Christmas lights over Washington Square. (“Well, we get to see some of the display after all!”) I wasn’t expecting to see any holiday decorations on this trip, but here were some of them. I remember reading something about special glasses that let you see angels in the Christmas lights, which I didn’t understand. But, when we were at EPCOT, I found in the American Pavilion a pair of paper 3-D spectacles. When you look at light bulbs, the words “USA” float in the air. I’m guessing the flying Christmas angels were a similar effect.

It was now time to wait two hours to experience the East Coast version of “Fantasmic!” We made our way to Sunset Blvd. and then up the endless path to the outdoor amphitheater. At first sight of the arena, I predicted the show wouldn’t be as intimate as the one at Disneyland. The seating was so large and vast, compared to standing along the river bend in Anaheim. But, I curtailed further criticism until after the show. (By the way, in my never-ending attempt to provide long-winded tangents, here are directions for the best viewing of Disneyland’s Fantasmic: First, arrive very early. Remember to bring a blanket from home. Look for the light tower that’s between the river bend and Café Orleans. There’s a narrow roped off aisle that starts near the entrance of The Pirates of the Caribbean, and ends at the sound system beneath the light pole. On your right is a small roped off viewing area where you can spread out your blanket in front of the iron railing, that is, if other guests hadn’t gotten to it. Get someone in our party to pick up some New Orleans fritters and mint juleps while you’re waiting for the show to start.)

Instead of twiddling my thumbs, I ran back out to Sunset Blvd. to grab a turkey leg and some fresh fruit at the Farmer’s Market shops. You may be asking why we didn’t reserve the Fantasmic! Dining Experience. First off, we had dined at the Brown Derby the last time we were here. Even though we enjoyed the Derby, we didn’t need to go again. Second, we had a sneaking suspicion that we would be full from our meal at Prime Time Diner, and our prediction was right. Back in the arena, and after an endless wait, the lights dimmed and Mickey’s dreams and nightmares came alive on the rock stage and the surrounding water. The pyrotechnics and water screens that project the animated images were wonderful, but the vessels that travel on the water, plus the barrenness of the rock stage cannot compete with the West Coast show. In fact, it felt chaotic rather than of a stream of fun sequences. To make matters worse, the pinnacle of the show failed. A couple minutes went by with loud dramatic music, but nothing happening on stage. The show came to an anticlimactic ending. We decided to sit and wait for the crowds to disperse. Eventually we left the arena feeling under-whelmed. A Cast Member overheard our comments and explained that the fire breathing dragon had malfunctioned. Well, that explains things! I couldn’t imagine this version of the show not having a dragon that grows out of the rock. Mickey looked pretty ridiculous standing there, doing nothing.

As we trekked the path back to Sunset Blvd., a couple bored Cast Members who were supposed to be marketing Disney Vacation timeshares started to yell out trivia questions at us. Being the capable Disney nut that I am, I volleyed back with the right answers. “Congratulations! You win!” they yelled. (“Oh boy! What do we get? A free timeshare orientation with an intimidating salesman?”) No. We got a couple stickers (another souvenir for the scrapbook).

It was a long walk back to the car, and a quick drive back to Vistana, where we collapsed in the glow of an enjoyable day. I think we tried to watch the latest news regarding the election, but Mr. Sandman overtook us. It’s strange; during the night I dreamt I had a magical sword, and I was trying to vanquish a giant fire breathing dimpled chad ballot. It rose up to conquer Southern Florida and eventually, America! ...I awoke in a heavy sweat.

Quote for the Day
“In my work I try to reach and speak to innocence, showing the fun and joy of living; showing that laughter is healthy; showing that the human species, although happily ridiculous at times, is still reaching for the stars.” (Walt Disney)

Tuesday, November 14, 2000 / Day: 11 of 15 / “I Had a Theme Park in Africa” or “Themed Poop; Themed Poverty”

Safari Journal—Morning:

“My trusty companion and I awoke to the burgeoning call of the wild, as the crimson sun climbed over this savage land called ‘Orlando.’ Hastily, we broke camp to embark on a perilous expedition, into a treacherous kingdom teeming with wild beasts and extraordinary trees…”

OK. In reality, the alarm clock went off at 7:00am. We pried ourselves out of bed to get an early start on our premiere trip to Disney’s Animal Kingdom. This park didn’t exist the last time we visited Walt Disney World and today was scheduled for a thorough exploration. Of course, with my neurotic impulse, this would include every nook and cranny of the place!

Most online opinions seemed to agree that the Animal Kingdom was: lush, beautifully landscaped, hotter than the other parks (due to the vegetation?), a bit confusing to navigate, devoid of major rides and easily seen in a half day. Also, agreed was the recommendation to arrive early so as to observe the animals gallivanting in the morning light. My eagerness to explore the park was heightened by all of the reading I had done on its novel design. This “state-of-the-art zoo” has supposedly taken theme parks into a brave new direction; into the new millennium and beyond. My Inner Imagineer was bristling with anticipation!

After a quick breakfast, we drove to the far reaches of the Disney property and entered the parking lot. Talk about a hot vast Serengeti. This barren plane of asphalt and grass seemed to take forever to cross on foot. Sure, the parking lot trams were available, but they were few and far between. Besides, the tram wait was “20-grouchy-tourists” deep. As we approached the simple entrance and the forest perimeter which creates the berm around the park, it became apparent that we were not approaching a typical Disney “Land.” The entry façade was minimal; the bordering wall of trees concealed any view of what awaited inside. To our left was the Rainforest Café. This was another new idea for Disney; placing a franchised restaurant just outside the Park’s borders. A risky idea it would seem; having a large eatery surviving on the whims of the tourists who come and go each day. Terry and I had eaten at the Rainforest Café before, and although the food can be good, I find the environment overwhelming (I like to hear myself think when I eat). This was not a scheduled stop on today’s commando agenda.

After 10 days of WDW excursions with my wife, I resigned myself to the fact that our first stop would be a bathroom break. This wasn’t a bad thing since it allowed me to examine the Arts and Crafts-style architecture that creates the entrance. I loved the amber lights and homage (I thought) to Californian architects Greene and Greene. (Arts and Crafts is the type of decor we’re attempting to create for our home.) After the quick break, our first endeavor was to get Fastpass tickets for the Kilimanjaro safari ride, but first we would have to navigate through the most difficult obstacle of the day: getting Terry past all of the birds along The Oasis walkway. I had warned Terry about this before we left.

“Look. To get to the center of the park we have to walk up the “Main Street,” which is a jungle setting, with a bunch of parrots and birds. We HAVE to ignore them so we can get Fastpass tickets for the Safari ride. We’ll come back to the birds later in the day. OK?”

I really thought I was going to succeed with this fervent advice... Forget it. What should have been a quick stroll became a half hour visit to each and every avian resident.

Eventually we made it to the clearing and the bridge crossing over the circular river. And there before us, in glorious forced perspective, was the majestic Tree of Life—the “Castle” of this theme park. I stopped dead in my tracks. “Wow!” I shouted, grabbing the camera. This giant landmark was astounding. No Swiss Family Robinson tree house here. This colossal structure is the perfect emblem for the park (or “wiener at the end of the road,” as Uncle Walt would say). The closer you get, the more amazing it becomes, as the hundreds of animals integrated into the bark of the towering tree become apparent, all beneath a broad green canopy of artificial leaves and limbs. (“Who cares about the Safari. Take a look at this thing, would ya!”) My Imagineering longings overtook me. In my humble opinion, a better centerpiece couldn’t have been created.

A tall wooden giraffe holding the word “Africa” caught our eye. Obviously, the Tree of Life wasn’t going anywhere (it’s the central beacon within the park). We could explore the details later on. Right now we needed to get safari passes before they ran out. Leaving colorfully decorated gift shops and fast food stands around the Tree, we were transported into a weathered African township. Pressing up the street and past increasing crowds, we secured our Fastpass tickets. Now we had 90 minutes to kill before the “reservations” would be viable. At this point, I wasn’t exactly sure what to do. I figured we could run across to the other side of the park for a relatively short wait on the “Dinosaur” ride, but I knew Terry would have nothing to do with that idea. I wasn’t feeling all that compelled to be “Turbo Tourist” either. This was our first time here and I wanted to take everything in. We entered a couple gift shops, one of which was filled with amazing animal carvings. Everything inside and out of the African village was exotic and exciting to look at. The Imagineers certainly did an amazing job. Yet, something about the “themeing” seemed… peculiar, although I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time.

The closest attraction was the Pangani Forest Exploration Trail, which we decided to enter. As we made our way down the green path, we were filled with a sense of déjà vu. Had we been here before? In a way. “Guess where they got the idea for this animal trail? The Woodland Park Zoo, no doubt!” Civic pride filled our hearts as we sauntered down the path to meet the gorillas. The concept of meandering down an indigenously landscaped path to view animals in their natural habitat seemed to be copied from our local prizewinning zoo in Seattle, which is filled with “trials” into North America, Asia, Africa, South America, etc. The difference of course being that Disney’s version is much more detailed and thematic. After staring at our supposedly distant cousins for several minutes, we made it out of the jungle and back to the main plaza. A very enjoyable walk indeed, but I was already developing a park critique in my head: No matter how much Disney says this isn’t a zoo, and no matter how many rides they eventually install, visitors are coming to see live animals. But to do so, one needs to detour down specific paths (on foot or in vehicles) to see them. This makes the major thoroughfares of the park strangely absent of observable animals, except in a couple minor areas. It would be a great if guests could view significant creatures as you move from land to land. Just imagine a lion resting on “Pride Rock” inside the African village (of course, after viewing the cat, you would have to exit into a “BDB!” gift shop).

With additional time on our hands, we began walking toward the Asia pavilion. We approached the “Flights of Wonder” theater. This show was mandatory viewing for a couple bird geeks like us, but the arena hadn’t yet opened. It was nearing the time for our safari, so instead of going further into Asia, we headed back to Africa. Along the way, the grey skies that had been threatening all morning started to open up; the first and only rains we experienced on the trip. A couple minutes later, the pathway was jammed with tourists cloaked in pale yellow Disney ponchos. Being prepared Seattleites, we pulled out our blue portable REI rain jackets and marched against the drenched crowds. We handed in our Fastpass tickets and started up the long queue toward the safari jeeps. Halfway through the line we came to a stop. Once again this timesaving invention was trying our patience, as we waited over 40 minutes. We could have boarded more quickly if we had simply entered the Standby line (posted 25 minutes) when we had first arrived. But now that it was late morning, the Standby wait was over an hour and a half, so in one way we were saving time (I guess…). I felt the familiar “ugly tourist” feeling rise up, so I focused my attention on the authentic African TV monitors hanging from the thatched roof, to watch the ride’s pre-show. Actually, it was exciting to finally be experiencing the premiere attraction of the Animal Kingdom.

We stepped into our large capacity Land Rover-type vehicle and took off down the twisting, rutted dirt road. Our driver, a charming woman from South Africa, seem genuinely friendly while she delivered her well rehearsed script. Unfortunately, her countenance was the only thing decipherable. Her accent was so thick it was impossible to understand what she was saying, that is, above the din of the rolling jeep. I was a bit surprised by the lack of verbal clarity, the loudness of the truck and the muffled speakers, but was soon distracted by the animals appearing along the trail. Each time the jeep came to a halt, 30 enclosed tourists would lunge sideways with cameras in hand. During the first half of the ride most of the creatures were on the left side of the vehicle. This didn’t make for great snapshots, being on the opposite end, so I concentrated on how the Imagineers had hidden the barriers that kept the animals out of each others enclosures. It was all very ingenious; wading through manufactured river beds, traversing over bridges, etc. I could tell the tire treads in the thick mud were artificial, creating a barrier between the jeep and the hippos and crocodiles, but I couldn’t exactly tell if the countless white stains of bird droppings were painted on or not. If so, this might be the first “themed poop” in the history of the amusement industry.

We left the water environments and entered the flat planes. Not many creatures could be seen until we were nearly out of the territory. That’s when we were approached by giraffes, zebra and other four hoofed creatures (i.e. “Lion Lunchables”). Further up the road the elephants were out in numbers. With perfect timing I accidentally snapped a shot of a pachyderm heeding the call of nature. We then came to the rhinos, ostriches, and finally the king of the jungle. The ride and its illegible storyline started to pick up speed as we neared the end of the tour. Our driver’s dialogue became more excited. Perhaps it had something to do with her eyes; she kept on mentioning “little red.” Actually, she was conveying Disney’s ever subtle promotion of conservation. An unseen baby elephant named Little Red had been captured by unseen poachers (Imagineering Note: Hidden evil is forbidding in a movie, but not on a ride). The attraction now digressed into a couple fanciful scenes reminiscent of the Jungle Cruise. A heroic cast member appeared alongside of the road informing us that the smuggling hooligans had be captured. And yes, our little hero was safe, or at least, an animatronic elephant trunk peeking out through the back of a truck. I must say it was bizarre to see a cast member clutching an automatic weapon. Perhaps in the future, Disney’s management could hand out fake firearms to their parade ushers. That would keep most guests in line. (“I said remain seated during the entire parade!”)

Filled with environmental pride (we saved an elephant trunk!) we started to leave Africa, but not before a rumbling in our tummies pulled us into the Tusker House Restaurant. The rainfall had eased up during the safari trip, but every surface of the park was still quite wet. Thinking that we had beaten the lunch crowd, we found the dining room packed with fellow tourists, trying to escape the precipitation. There were no vacant tables anywhere. Hungry guests with food trays in hand stood impatiently in front of seated diners, who were being intimidated into finishing quickly. We were just about to eat our lunch on top of a trash can, when a small table cleared. I must say our meal was pretty good; better-than-average counter service fare, considering what we had experienced at the other parks.

Terry wanted to catch the next show of “Flights of Wonder,” but I insisted we first visit “It’s Tough to be a Bug!” Back at the Tree of Life, we took the winding trail to the subterranean theater within the base of the giant tree. Here was another terrific attraction; a great blend of silliness, surprise and creepy crawly fun. The combination of 3-D film, terrific animatronics and amusing special effects were a big hit with the audience, although much too scary for about a half dozen toddlers, who were crying in their mother’s laps.

Back outside, it was time for the next “Flights of Wonder” show, so we trekked toward Asia to catch the avian demonstration. As much as we love birds, this kind of show can be a real turkey (pun intended). Who hasn’t been to an amusement park and seen uncooperative animals embarrass their frustrated (and usually monotone) trainers? Although not the best thing going at the park, it was a delightful presentation, and a good one to sit down at and stretch your legs. Terry desperately wanted to be the volunteer selected to have the eagle land on her arm, but we weren’t seated in the right section. We knew we would be coming back again, so we memorized the correct location.

It was time for a visit to Asia. Entering the new land, I experienced the same feeling I had encountered in Africa. I was amazed and delighted by the exotic detail around every corner, but felt that it was somehow… peculiar. Later on in the day I finally figured it out. The Disney Imagineers had created “Themed Poverty.” Before now, every land in a Disney park has been based upon either a fantastic, nostalgic, or an ideal concept of a particular environment (i.e. Fantasyland, Future World, Hollywood Blvd. etc.). Undoubtedly, the designers were not going to recreate another Adventureland here in this new park, so it made sense that they would glean from “real” African and Asian environments. Yet, these two lands are not merely exotic looking, they were… impoverished. Yes, ancient temple ruins are exotic and fun, but crude billboard signs, rusted out bicycles and power lines strewed here and there give a sense of Third World paucity. Another first I believe for Disney and the amusement industry. I felt slightly put off by the whole concept. (“Why not have performers costumed as starving peasants, or posters of murderous dictators, to make the effect more complete?”) After greater examination, this “Anti-World Showcase” concept did begin to grow on me, primarily due to the exquisite detail and the novelty of it all. Although, I couldn’t stop thinking that perhaps one of the reasons why this Park is not as successful as the others in Walt Disney World, is not just the lack of amusement rides and observable animals, but an unconscious awkwardness “Joe Tourist” might experience being submersed in a “too much like real life” atmosphere. Perhaps the Theme Park of Tomorrow will be based on generating nostalgia and good feelings within indigent and worldly environments (how postmodern!). Hey, ten years from now, when Disney gets around to building “South America,” they could have native tribes people escort guests past acres of devastated rain forest to look at herds of cattle… No?

I should have guessed that the Fastpass tickets for the Kali River Rapids ride would already be sold out. Fortunately, the standby wait was only 25 minutes. Terry had no desire to get drenched and assured me that it was no loss if she didn’t ride. Besides, she wanted to get a picture of me at the end, passing under the observation bridge. I started my assent through the lengthy queue line, but didn’t get far before I was overwhelmed by the marvelous detail. Elements like the toppled idols along the path and a wooden temple filled with fruit offerings made me stop and gawk, much to the consternation of the guests pushing by. The line nearly reached the boarding station before coming to a stop. A cast member insisted that I take the last seat in one of the rafts, which was occupied by a large Italian family. This ride was not designed for two big guys to sit next to each other, but the only available spot was next to the burly father. Even without a translator it was obvious this guy wanted me out of his space and off the boat, but the raft had already begun to leave the station. (How do you say: “Deal with it” in Italian?) The sense of communal fun that’s created on these circular rafts began to take over. Soon everyone was “oohing and aahing” as we ascended through tropical mists, past the water geyser and into a burned-out rainforest. As odd as this scene is (it comes out of the blue, with no follow-up) the effects are impressive: the burning ruins of a logged forest, the heat, the noise and the rancid smell of smoldering waste. (I guess they don’t need to build “South America” after all.) Feelings of melancholy changed to screams of delight as the raft plunged down the concealed waterfall. After a short jaunt through some rather mild rapids, the raft floated under the exit bridge and into the “shooting gallery” area. Terry saw me coming and was able to snap a couple of pictures. While waiting for the shot, she had been entertaining herself on the bridge, squirting the rafts as they passed between the two elephant fountain statues. A rather proper British woman approached Terry to see what she was doing. With great astonishment, she cried: “Oh, how wicked!” realizing that bystanders could soak the trapped riders. Terry left the woman to take over the squirting. Hesitant at first, she was soon manning the weapon with gusto, all the while exclaiming: “Oh, that’s so wicked!”

Wet and happy, I joined back up with Terry. Next, we journeyed into the Maharajah Jungle Trek to visit the Bengal tigers. Once again, the thematic detail along this trail was remarkable. The open-air exhibit of large fruit bats was terrific, the ruinous tiger enclosure was marvelous, and the brilliantly colored Indian birds at the end of the trail just made our day (of course). Even the three-paneled “Be-Nice-To-Nature-Or-The-Gods-Will-Get-You” masonry relief near the tigers was beautifully done (...who says Disney avoids religion?).

All of this animal gazing made me hungry, again. (“Hallelujah! They’ve got Thai food!”) I ran toward a shanty food stand. Not entirely Thai food, but chicken satay and pot stickers will do; better than burgers and pizza in my book. I almost choked on the price of the appetizers but I couldn’t pass them up. After the quick snack, we were off to the final two territories of the park. First stop: Dinoland, U.S.A. Although a fun romp, this section of the park feels somewhat barren in that (obviously) there are no living animals to view, just fossils and mechanical beasts. We entered The Boneyard playground to see what it contained and ended up spending a good half hour traversing the maze of activities. Next, it was a long wait for the main attraction: “Dinosaur.” It turned out to be 45 minutes worth of standing around, as we watched Fastpass recipients wiz by us. The line eventually bunched up inside the preview room, so I navigated us over to the exit doors to be the first ones out. When we reached the stairs to the boarding station, I began to see how this attraction was a reproduction of the Indiana Jones Adventure in Disneyland, except with a prehistoric overlay. A couple minutes later, our rollicking jeep was zapped back in time and confronted by gargantuan reptiles (and one benign character) as we traversed the black interior of the attraction. The creatures themselves were terrific, but the lack of scenery in many spots (i.e. plenty of darkness) gave a feeling of budget-cut deprivation. The lighting was so dim, some of the minimal set decorations were nearly impossible to decipher (“Are those falling meteors or fireflies from the Pirates of the Caribbean?”). The most bizarre design decision had to be the placement of a cartoon character—the hero from the computer animated movie “Dinosaur”—into the middle of a realistic environment. To have a quasi-human faced creature act like a superhero, when just a moment before our vehicle was being stalked by a realistic carnivore, was just completely incomprehensible to me. I think Disney synergy went “extinct” with this bright idea.

Was the ride awful? No. It’s a fun adventure, although much too scary for small children—like me. I learned something about myself on this attraction. I’m a dinosaur wuss. When the Carnosaurus came running alongside the jeep, I nearly hurled myself to the other side of the car. All of a sudden I was six years old again, on the Disneyland Railroad in Anaheim, traveling through the Primeval World diorama. As a kid, I was terrified by the streams of blistering lava (undulating aluminum foil and red flood lights) descending down the giant precipice, as the malevolent T-Rex fought with an overwhelmed Stegosaurus. Every time we went on the ride, that giant monster stared straight at me (I just knew it!) and now his evil prickly cousin was going to finish the job! I can testify to the Department of Amusement Park Safety that the ride’s seat belts work quite efficiently.

Back outside, we wondered through the temporary fossil exhibit and then a quick peek inside the McDonald’s restaurant, with its Paleontologist overlay. The idea of having this fast food chain inside a Disney park makes me queasy, but it certainly makes sense from a Marketing perspective, especially when you combine dinosaurs and children (although in my book, it’s another example of “Imagination Following Function”).

We were nearing the end of the day and Terry insisted on attending a live stage show. I knew “Tarzan Rocks” would not be her cup of tea so we trekked over to the “Festival of the Lion King” in Camp Minnie-Mickey. This was certainly the most disappointing land in the park, due to its obvious budget cuts; perhaps the most minimally themed environment in WDW. Because of my ambivalence for theme park stage shows, I invited Terry to watch the Lion King while I ran to catch another trip on the Kali Rapids. After some frustration she conceded. I promised to be back by the show’s end and sprinted toward the opposite end of the park. Running past the Tree of Life, my compulsion to defy time drove me to descend into the theater to catch another showing of “It’s Tough to be a Bug!” If my calculations were right, I would still be able to catch a ride on the last Kali river raft. The 3-D show emptied out later than I expected, but with three minutes to spare, I was able to hop onto a nearly empty boat. My two riding companions were taking their third consecutive trip around without having to disembark. They were completely soaked. Because the ride is relatively short, I justified a second trip around. On the second return, the attraction finally came to a close and we had to disembark. Soaked to the skin, I began another sprint back toward Camp Minnie-Mickey. Most likely, I would find Terry irritated at my tardiness. Along the way I notice the small trail that wraps around the back of the Tree of Life, so of course, I took the unseen path. With sides aching, I reached the outdoor theater only to hear the applause of the crowd. I wasn’t late after all! A minute later, Terry came out smiling, remarking on the quality of the show. As for myself, I was glad for my little “Turbo Tourist” stint. It made me feel like I had conquered the park.

It was time to leave, but we chose to slowly meander through some of the small animal exhibits surrounding the Tree of Life, that is until a cast member caught us. Taking our time to say goodbye to the inhabitants in The Oasis, we eventually made it out of the park, but then got sidetracked by the Blue and Gold macaw at the entrance to the Rainforest Café. Getting this close to a parrot made us homesick again for our own birds. Terry was feeling hungry, but I insisted that we have dinner somewhere else. She then suggested a quick stop in the Rainforest gift shop (“Maybe they’ll have a Hawaiian shirt for you, dear”). Terry found a soft pullover on sale for herself; I found nothing of interest. Again, Terry suggested that we eat at the Café. You guessed it. I swallowed my pride. We were soon seated with the other gullible tourists, among giant fiberglass trees, mechanical gorillas and deafening strobe-lit thunderstorms. I guess the Marketers were right in placing this restaurant just outside the park. We certainly bought it hook, line and sinker! Full, but not overstuffed, we headed home. It had been a wonderful long day. Even though it was still early, we stayed in the timeshare and made an early night of it.

A final observation of Disney’s Animal Kingdom: It’s a wonderful experience. I’m truly amazed by its exotic beauty, although challenged by its progressive “themeing.” After the uniqueness wears off, I think the Asian and African lands will come up wanting, simply for the fact that “assurance” (or “idealism”) is the foundation to Imagineering design. Third World environments don’t really promote fun optimism. I believe that’s why Uncle Walt didn’t allow his Frontierland to look like a tattered ghost town, or the exterior of his Haunted Mansion to be dilapidated. On the matter of the park not being as successful as the others, it’s obvious why so many guests find it lacking. The incredible environmental detail can not make up the lack of major attractions. I believe this could be accommodated in part with more significant animals displayed along the major pathways. It would also emphasize what I believe to be the true “story” of Animal Kingdom, which is humanity’s celebration of God’s creatures. (Now here’s an idea for a new land: What’s the oldest and most prevalent tale regarding animals? Noah’s Ark, of course. But, I guess that would be too religious.) As for myself, I could easily spend another three days examining the park’s architecture, landscape and of course, the four-legged inhabitants. But then I guess most tourists aren’t frustrated designers like me (“Envious Imagineerous Syndrome”). I’m looking forward to a second, albeit short, visit to the Animal Kingdom on the last day of our trip.

Quote for the Day
“Next to his own most intimate self-concerns, man is most fascinated by creatures of the animal kingdom. They have been close to his interest and his fate from time beyond the Ark.” (Walt Disney)

“I have a great love of animals and laughter.” (Walt Disney)

“…I’ll promise to try and not wince every time Disney tries to educate me on the finer points of world peace, recycling and brotherhood among nations…” (Newsgroup posting; 10/5/99)

Wednesday, November 15, 2000 / Day: 12 of 15 / “Watch Hunt,” “Stowaways” and “Girl Power!”

This morning Terry and I awoke rather reluctantly, and a bit late in the day. We were still exhausted from our exploration of the Animal Kingdom. We had stayed at the park a bit longer than expected; from opening to closing. Thank goodness today’s agenda was scheduled as a personal “soft” day, a time for shopping and meandering around the Walt Disney World property. We had no big expectations… except for one. For the reader’s benefit, I conveniently omitted a daily account of my hunt for a new Mickey Mouse watch. My old wristwatch had given up the ghost three months earlier and I desperately needed to buy a new timepiece. One of my unspoken, irrational goals on this vacation was to examine all of the watches sold at WDW. As we would pass a gift shop in one of the theme parks, I would duck in for a moment to see what was displayed in the glass cases. The far majority of watches were the same, but occasionally a new style would present itself. The watch I would eventually pick couldn’t be any ol’ cartoon chronometer; it had to be “The Perfect Mickey Mouse Watch.” What’s the perfect watch? All I can say is that I would know it when I saw it. (Picture Lucy from the “Peanuts” sitting at her psychiatric desk, describing different phobias to Charlie Brown. “THAT’S IT!” he yells, making Lucy do a back flip. That’s when I would know it was the right watch.) Of course, this pursuit was driving Terry crazy. She insisted that I buy a watch today, since we were near the end of the vacation. A merchandise hunt was just the thing I needed to get me out of bed and out the door (can you say “Defending the Caveman”?).

After another health-conscious breakfast, it was a hop, skip and a jump to the Disney property. As we drove around the manicured highways, I had to fight a growing reluctance to not do much of anything. This morning felt like we had been on vacation for a very long time (“Egads! What am I saying? Walt Disney World vacations are never too long!”). Now that our holiday’s end was in site, thoughts were returning to what awaited us back in Seattle and with the new house. Terry reminded me I wasn’t going to accomplish anything by worrying (“Hakuna Matata”), so I did my best to push “Buyer’s Remorse” out of my mind and get back to today’s agenda.

On our first trip to WDW, I made an effort to visit each of the themed hotels. To continue that tradition, I planned to visit the new lodgings that had been built over the past seven years, to see what each one featured. After driving by the busy McDonald’s on the Disney property (Geezaloo! Can you image the cost of that lease?), it was a quick drive in, and a quick drive out, of the All Star hotel complex. As we approached the entrance, we were greeted by hundreds of frazzled adults and screaming kids darting everywhere. The place was a mad house. The giant Disney statues, movie symbols and sports icons that give uniqueness to these plain buildings were interesting, but not enough to stop and traverse through the mob. (I shouldn’t criticize these value-priced hotels too much; it’s the only place we could afford if we stayed onsite.) Our next stop was to the Boardwalk Inn. This was a delightful Atlantic seaboard-type resort, consisting of a timeshare, hotel, restaurants and shops, all within a turn-of-the-century Victorian beach setting. We were impressed with the crisp white architecture, pastel colors and playful decorations that create such a peaceful setting. The place was definitely added to our “When-We-Win-The-Lottery-And-Can-Afford-To-Stay-Onsite” list. Maybe because it was late morning and all of the guests were over at EPCOT (a short walk away), the boardwalk along Crescent Lake was strangely empty, creating a deserted feeling. A family in a rental surrey bike rode by; a half dozen Disney “suits” marched past us for some important meeting; a couple painters were hanging above us on scaffolding that covered the entrance to the ESPN Club, but that was it as far as crowds. The boardwalk planks desperately needed tourists and a couple entertainers to create a friendlier atmosphere.

We darted into an empty gift shop to investigate the watches. Disney timepieces seem to come in two basic styles: big bulky sports watches or cute little pieces with leather straps. The later look rather pale on my wrist, so this usually means resigning to a Dick Tracy-sized contraption. I found the selection discouraging; I was beginning to think I might leave Orlando without a new watch. Back outside, it was nearing time for lunch, but we didn’t want a big meal to spoil the special dessert we were saving up for, so we skipped the sit-down restaurants along the Boardwalk. We consigned ourselves to a hotdog from a small outdoor food vendor (and thereby giving the employee something to do). This was a big miss; one of the poorer snacks on the entire trip. After saving the hotdog buns to feed the birds, we marched down the wooden dock to catch one of the transportation canal boats. As we approached, we were met by a sign claiming the boat service was for hotel guests only. Terry got concerned that we would get in trouble if we were caught onboard. I assured her that the Captain wasn’t going to interrogate us. We were certainly not taking any spots away from hotel guests. Smiling politely we took our seats while the driver tried to “yuck it up” with us. Eventually, we relaxed, just in time to land across the lake at the Yacht and Beach Club hotels. What a difference in crowds. There were guests everywhere, especially lounging around the distinctive swimming pool, with its ship wrecked water slide.

We made our way toward our destination: the Beaches and Cream ice cream parlor. This eatery consistently came up on the online postings as a great place to visit. We walked into the brightly colored soda shop and knew we were in for a treat. (“Rats! They’ve got real food!”) It never occurred to me that they might serve burgers and fries. Anything would have been better than the hotdog we had across the lake. We sat down and began to watch the family seated next to us. The little girl was standing up on her chair, spoon in hand, trying to harpoon a monstrous bowl of decadence in the middle of the table. The family had ordered the “Kitchen Sink.” As the name applies, everything was in it. (“Wanna get one for ourselves?” “No way! It’s way too big!”) The sight of a basin full of ice cream brought back fond childhood memories of Farrell’s Ice Cream Parlor and the infamous Pig Trough (and throwing up on my 11th birthday because of coffee ice cream, but that’s another story…). Instead of going overboard, Terry ordered a small sundae with chocolate mint ice cream and I ordered an Orange Soda, which was highly recommended on the newsgroups. The soda didn’t live up to expectations. It did taste like a “50/50 Bar,” but it was overly sweet. At this point, I decided to swear off the food recommendations made on the forums and trust my own instincts instead.

Wanting to work off the dessert, we decided to walk over to the Swan & Dolphin hotels. To do so, we would have to take the boat back across the lake. There were several tourists in line this time. Terry’s enjoyment of feeding the birds along the waterfront was cut short by the arrival of the boat. Fortunately, there still were no secret police demanding to see our hotel keys. We walked past the boardwalk and down the path to the Swan & Dolphin. It was nice to visit these hotels again (this was where Terry stayed on our first trip). Our next task was to check out the Fantasia Miniature Golf and see if we wanted to play a round. After walking around aimlessly for several minutes, we found a Cast Member who set us in the right direction, which was through the hotel and across the street. The morning turned out to be warm and humid. By the time we arrived at the ticket booth, neither of us had any aspirations to play. The architecture of the two courses looked interesting, but the burning sun and a lack of trees made the idea of standing outside intolerable. I came up with a bright idea that confused the ticket agent. I asked her if we could simply walk the course without paying, so I could take some pictures. When she finally understood that I didn’t want any clubs or balls, she gave permission. It ended up being a quick trip. The sun was so glaring; all of the shots were bleached out.

By the time we returned to the Swan hotel, we were too pooped to walk back to the Boardwalk Inn, or to be worried about being stowaways. Consequently, it was another illegal trip on the water taxi. Heading back toward the car, an afternoon nap was beginning to sound really good, so we drove back to Vistana to crash for awhile (us Northwesterners can take the rain but not the humidity). After a couple hours of lounging around, our energy started to return. “Why don’t we check out one of the minor attractions included with our passes?” Typhoon Lagoon was closed for refurbishment (an attraction I really enjoyed on our last trip). River Country was closed for the season. This left the ski resort-themed Blizzard Beach water park. It seemed a little silly to visit this late in the day; it would only be open for another 2 ½ hours, but what the heck, it was basically a free admittance. Besides, we had been in Florida nearly two weeks and hadn’t once gone to the pool at the timeshare.

Back on the Disney property, we arrived at Blizzard Beach with a big change in climate. Cloud coverage had come in and the temperature had dropped considerably. The air was mild; almost cool. This would make for a chilly beach experience, but we decided to forge ahead anyway. Terry had never been to a water park and was concerned about what to expect. I promised her I wouldn’t trick her into going down any scary slides. After changing, we came out into the cool air, exposing our real hesitation. We’re Seattleites. This means were pasty white. Our condition seemed to be accentuated by the hordes of bronzed sun worshippers throughout the park. Everyone seemed to be a poster child for Coppertone (where are the Alaskan vacationers when you need them?!). In addition, Terry couldn’t see a thing without her glasses, which she stored away in the rental locker. There we were: two pale, goose pimpled tourists, one escorting the other around the property. Not a pretty sight.

The time available at the park was getting short, so we shook off the “pity party” and made our way into the Cross Country Creek—a slow moving river encircling the perimeter of the grounds. It was easy to secure a couple inner tubes since most of the guests were done for the day. The water was cool but warmer than the air, so the plunge into the river was a relief. We were soon floating quietly past the children’s play area and into the cave beneath the artificial snow-capped mountain. I’m sure during the summer when its 90 degrees, with 90% humidity, it’s a great relief to travel under the cave’s freezing “runoff” waterfall, but not today. The spray from the stream told me to paddle over to the side, but it was too late. Splat! Ice water, right in the lap.

Exiting the cave, we got out of the river and made our way up the mountain, to Runoff Rapids. These slides were posted as family friendly, so they seemed like a good choice for Terry’s inaugural plunge down a water slide. Apprehensive at first, Terry was soon squealing with delight as she twisted down the blue tube. (“Hurray! A ‘thrill ride’ she likes and that we can do together!”) This was a great discovery. It meant visits to water parks were in our future!

Wanting to get back into the water ASAP (it was freezing walking around dripping wet!), we ran into the wave pool. Terry was having a blast floating up and down on the undulating water, but I wanted to go on one of the steep slides. Hesitant at first, Terry assured me that she would be alright alone in Melt Away Bay, although she couldn’t see a thing. I ran over to the Downhill Double Dipper. This looked like a decent slide, and since it was close, I could get back to Terry in a few minutes. Walking toward the stairs, a perky 16-year-old Valley Girl passed by me. As she approached, her “Britney Spears” smile slowly turned into a stare of shock, with an expression of: “Like-Oh-My-God-How-Did-They-Let-You-In-Here?!” Talk about being emasculated with a single glance! “What?” I almost cried out. (“What is it?! Too fat? Too hairy? The scar on the shoulder? What? What?!... Hey, thanks for a great 40th birthday present! You made me feel REAL good!”) I don’t know why I let the look of some adolescent brat get to me. Maybe it’s a curse for being a guy, or maybe it was the Cosmos initiating me into middle-age. Whatever it was, I was suddenly felt old, and bit like Dumbo.

Climbing up the stairs, I didn’t pay much attention to the slide’s lengthy queue. The rest of the park had cleared out, but this ride had at least a 20 minute wait. “It must be pretty good” I assumed. Eventually, I reached the slide’s entrance and allowed gravity to take over. Two seconds later, I was getting a water wedgie at the bottom of the slide. (“What a stupid ride! All that time wasted for barely a thrill. I should have climbed to the top of the mountain and rode Summit Plummet!”) Picking myself up, I ran back to Terry, who at this point was getting concerned. I apologized profusely. She understood that rides have lines, but didn’t understand my sulkiness. Embarrassed, I told her what happened. She laughed. (Interpretation: “What were you doing looking at some girl?”) She assured me that I still had it. That’s my honey! She knows what to say. And, in the end, her opinion is all that matters…

It was near closing, so we ambled across the park and climbed up the endless stairs to Teamboat Springs. There was only one family in front of us, so we were soon seated in a large circular raft and began flowing down a gracefully curving watercourse. What the Downhill Double Dipper lacked in length, this ride made in distance. What a long ride! The twists and turns go on for several minutes, as the raft leisurely turns and banks along the walls of the slide.

By the time we reached the bottom, the park was nearly closed. Terry caught my “Turbo Tourist” fever and agreed to run back to the other side of the park, to catch one more ride on Runoff Rapids. As we began climbing the stairs, the hidden speakers announced that the park was closed, but we kept climbing. The lifeguard/attendant was just about to leave her post when we approached. “Sorry,” she said, “we’re closed.” “But we were halfway up the hill when the announcement was made!” we whined back. Hesitant at first, the lifeguard finally relented. We thanked her and were soon twisting down the hillside.

Besides the self-image crisis, it turned out to be a fun afternoon after all. We were still freezing, so we ran to the lockers, changed, and then had a long look inside the Beach Haus, inspecting all of the souvenirs. Once again, we were one of last guests to leave the park (it seems to have become a tradition on this vacation). There were plenty of slides we had missed, but this left an incentive to come back on our next Disney vacation, whenever that might be.

Back at the timeshare we had a quick change of clothes. I never expected to wear one of the sweat shirts we purchased earlier in the week, but this night was cool enough to wear the grey pullover. We decided to share a quick dinner over at the Cracker Barrel (the place had grown on us). Our last stop for the evening was Downtown Disney, at the mega-sized World of Disney store, to finally purchase a wrist watch. After a long, ridiculous scrutiny of all the possibilities, I picked a not-so-bulky silver sports watch, with three circular time features forming Mickey’s silhouette. Not exactly “THAT’S IT!” but good enough to satisfy the Inner Hunter in me. In fact, the satisfaction of finally acquiring a watch allowed me to go to sleep happy, without dreaming of a swimming pool full of teenage girls staring at me in horror.

Quote for the Day
“Women are the best judges of anything we turn out. Their taste is very important. They are the theater-goers, they are the ones who drag the men in. If the women like it, to heck with the men.” (Walt Disney)

Thursday, November 16, 2000 / Day: 13 of 15 / “Tonga Toast Trials” and “You Spin Me Around”

“Only two more days left! That’s so depressing!”

Yesterday, I was complaining that our vacation was too long. Now I was whining because the trip was nearly over. Good thing Terry couldn’t hear me; she was downstairs feeding the birds.

“Well, better make the most of today. We’ve got games to play, acrobats to watch and breakfast to consume.”

This was our last “soft” day, which was scheduled for visiting a couple final Disney sites and to finish leftover souvenir shopping. In addition, tonight we would celebrate the (near) end of our vacation with a big hurrah.

Today’s food indulgence was allocated for breakfast. Although I had promised myself I would stop following the recommendations of the internet newsgroups, I had read too many comments about “Tonga Toast” to not try it at least once. This banana stuffed French toast is served at the Kona Café in the Disney Polynesian Resort. Traveling up the main Disney thoroughfare and around the Transportation center, we found parking close to the entrance of the hotel. The doors swung open and we entered the tropical atrium and Great Ceremonial House (grand lobby) which looks a lot like a holdout from a 1960’s Waikiki hotel. Not exactly the interior design I would expect from such an expensive lodge, that is, if I were a paying guest. We climbed the stairs to the Mezzanine level and were seated in an equally 1960’s looking restaurant. My Inner Imagineer started to rise up while waiting for the meal (“You know, it would be easy to make this interior more tropical. At least give it a ‘Gilligan’s Island’ kitsch overlay…”) The design critiques stopped when the waitress appeared with two plates of Tonga Toast. I was really looking forward to this meal, but once again, was completely under-whelmed by an entrée that has gotten rave reviews on the electronic forums. Not that it was awful, but please! Most people at home could make better stuffed French toast than this. “That’s it,” I said. “I’m throwing away my ‘Recommended Food List.’” We never would have spent the money or effort to eat here if we had known it was going to be such an average restaurant breakfast. At least there was one positive benefit to eating at the Kona Café. Terry got to try Southern grits for the first time, and it was fun to watch the monorail on the other side of the hall come and go every few minutes.

With breakfast out of the way, it was time for today’s main activity, which was to spend the afternoon at “Disney Quest.” The outdoor thoroughfares of Downtown Disney were relatively empty, which was a hopeful sign that it would not be overwhelming inside of this state-of-the-art Arcade. We stood in front of the large shopping mall-looking structure for several minutes, wondering if it was worth the price to go in. (“I wish this was one of the attractions available with our 7-Day Passes.”) But alas, to enter this virtual play land, you have to pay $20+ bucks to get in (I don’t remember the exact price). In the end, it was our experience at Blizzard Beach that swayed us to go for it. If we had as much fun as we did at the water park, it would be worth it. (“And, if there any Britney Spears wannabees who want to cast judgments on me, well, they’re going to get what for, I’m telling you!” “…Yes dear, you show them.”)

You may remember an earlier observation in the report about how excessively loud so many of the Walt Disney World attractions are. Nothing compares to this place; it takes the cake. Not only is the multicolored lighting and vivid décor strident, the cacophony of noise inside is almost enough to wake the dead. Using sensory overload to make an environment seem “cool” is one thing, but the dissonance of a thousand beeping, clanging, screeching machines and thunderous music was nearing torment. In some areas, that is. With five floors, there were certain sections that were tolerable. One of the “safe zones” was on the second floor, which was our first stop. We headed straight for the main advertised attraction: CyberSpace Mountain.

Finding a couple vacant computer monitors, we each created a personal rollercoaster track layout, which was then saved into the computer system. I went for an extreme coaster design; Terry created an easy ride with just a couple loops. After we were each given a plastic credit card boarding pass, we waited in line for the next available simulator machine. Realizing that the simulators were no larger than two enclosed seats with a TV screen in front, I rethought my idea of riding the hyper coaster design. My Meinere’s/ vertigo condition probably wouldn’t take the somersaulting action (it gets worse in enclosed spaces with no view of the horizon). I didn’t want to ruin the rest of the day with motion sickness, so we told the attendant we were only going to ride Terry’s coaster. Although a fun experience (yes, Terry enjoyed herself!), the virtual trip started my head spinning for most of the afternoon (e.g. the feeling you get after riding the Teacups). One upshot from CyberSpace Mountain was that the attendant never asked for my unused boarding pass. Yep, another souvenir for the scrap book.

Determined not to waste $50 smackers on the admission, we headed down to the first floor to try the two main attractions: “Virtual Jungle Cruise” and “Pirates of the Caribbean: Battle for Buccaneer Gold.” The Pirate attraction appeared to have a longer line so we tried the Jungle Cruise first. This was mostly a silly ride, where you sit in a yellow raft in front of a large TV screen. The raft raises and lowers based on what the waves are doing on the monitor. The direction of the boat changes depending on how hard you paddle against the blue fabric outside of the raft. The rolling motion started to make the vertigo worse, but we then waited in the long queue for the Pirates game, which helped to take the edge off. The friendly Cast Member invited us into our Pirate “booth.” The rectangular room is designed to look like the deck of an old wooden ship; three of the four walls are projections screens. Because we were the only players, the ride’s computer navigated the boat for us, across a virtual sea and into various ports. This allowed us to man the five small cannons along the bulwark and blow up the marauding enemy ships that came our way. As the ship pitches and shakes, the goal is to pull the rope handles on the weapons and send cyber cannon balls flying across the screen, hopefully into the red crosses on the enemy’s sails (which sinks the ship). The climax of the game is a skeleton ghost attempting to steal the accumulated gold on the bow. We came out cheering when the game finished. We both agreed this was one of the best arcade contraptions we’ve ever experienced. On the way out, the attendant congratulated us on our moderately high score. We were definitely going to try this one again before we left!

Feeling victorious, we started up the floors, and for some reason, decided to stop at Aladdin’s Magic Carpet Ride. I really must be a glutton for punishment because I went ahead and mounted the bicycle-like vehicle, strapped on the bulky helmet and starting flying through the evil castle via the projection inside the virtual goggles. This time, Terry and I both walked away rather queasy. We desperately needed a rest, so we managed our way to the top floor and sat down in the Wonderland Café. This was suppose to be a cyber café (where you can send emails), but the computer at our table wasn’t working. Rationalizing that a dessert would help settle our stomachs, we shared a slice of decadence from the Cheesecake Factory Express. Sitting around for awhile, we felt much better and then continued our investigation of this electronic citadel. We played a round of “Buzz Lightyear’s AstroBlaster,” which is a clunky combination of bumper cars and Nerf Ball cannons. “Invasion! An Alien Encounter” was a less nauseous motion-vehicle game, where you play as a team. The most crowded and cacophonous rooms were around the midway games. Fortunately, there is a sanctuary in the back of the building for middle-aged Baby Boomers who cut their gaming teeth on Pac Man and Centipede (Tempest was my game of choice in college). For right-brained people like me, there’s also a place to “paint” on TV monitors with an electronic palette (give me the original Colorforms any time!), and a classroom to learn how to draw Mickey and Goofy.

By late afternoon we had tried most of the main attractions. More importantly, we desperately wanted to see natural light again, so we made our way out of the black box and headed back to the timeshare. We changed into nicer clothes (my best Tahitian shirt) and headed back to Downtown Disney’s West Side. We were looking for an early dinner, but hadn’t made any reservations. It turned out not to be a problem as there were no crowds in the restaurants. The next question was where to eat. Being from L.A., the House of Blues, Planet Hollywood and Wolfgang Puck seem passé, so we decided to dine at Bongos for the second time. It was a good decision; we had another tasty meal. Useless Trivia Note: I used to work for an architect who did contract work for Wolfgang Puck and his wife (and designer) Barbara Lazaroff. When the Wolfgang Café in the West Side was being built, they were looking for someone to make a quick trip to Florida, to attain some last-minute measurements. Of course, I jumped at the chance. (“A business trip to WDW? It’ll be a burden, but sure, I’ll go. Anything for the firm.”) It turned out Wolfgang’s right hand man decided he needed to make the trip himself (the dirty rotten #@*!...).

It was time for tonight’s main feature, which was to see “La Nouba,” in the Cirque Du Soleil theater. Being former Angelinos, Terry and I are familiar with this eclectic show. For years, whenever the circus came to town, it was held in a small blue and yellow tent on the Santa Monica pier. Since then, this Canadian franchise has really become a giant conglomerate, with performances all around the world. The question for us was whether or not the quality of the show would hold up, with a larger production, and in a permanent facility. More important, was it still worth watching the amazing acrobats, considering the exorbitant ticket price? At $70 a pop, I expected to be wowed like we were watching an outstanding Broadway show. Our concerns were quickly answered. The show was simply amazing. Although there is no storyline, the emotion and atmosphere generated by the gravity-defying performers is remarkable. Cirque Du Soleil will probably not become a tradition on future trips, but it definitely was a special treat that put the “cherry on top” of the vacation.

Wanting to still bask in the exhilaration of the show, we decided to walk the length Downtown Disney. There were shops in the Market Place which we had missed. Not thinking through to the fact that we would have to walk all the way back, we headed to the (north?) side of the entertainment complex. We didn’t find any merchandise of great interest, so we started the long trip back. When we arrived at Disney Quest, we remembered we wanted to do the Pirates game again, so we reentered using our day’s admission. Now that it was in the late evening, the arcade was packed, especially with tipsy and loud conventioneers, many of whom still had their name badges dangling from their power suits. (Being drunk and getting on a spinning virtual ride. Now there’s a great combination!) The wait for the Pirate attraction was huge, but we bore it out. This time, we had to ride with another couple who were taking their first trip. The attendant informed us that one person had to steer the ship. Everyone turned around and stared in my direction. (“Hey! Why me?! I’m all geared up to sink ships! This is mutiny… sort of.”) Eventually, I gave in and took hold of the steering wheel. Having played once, I pretty much figured out where to go and how to slide up to the enemy ships. “Aim for the red crosses!” I barked. (“If they’re going to make me Captain, I’m going to act like one!”). Our adversary’s fleet sunk fast, but the flying ghost pirate was able to nab plenty of gold off of our bow. In the end, the score was just average. Oh well; it still is a great game!

It was time to get back to the timeshare. Tomorrow, our last day, would be a long one. We decided to start packing our monolithic luggage. It was a slow depressing activity. We only got about halfway through the chore before finally calling it quits. Lying down, the room was still slowly spinning in my head, making it hard to sleep. To distract myself, I started to think of some wonderful thoughts (“any merry little thought…”). I reminisced over how much fun we had on this trip, and that tomorrow, our last day, would be a great globetrotting romp throughout Walt Disney World.

Quote for the Day
“I wanna glide over you on a carnival ride
Without that nauseous cotton candy feeling
I need a slow spin
I wanna go Ferris wheelin’”
(“Slow Spin,” The Choir)

Friday, November 17, 2000 / Day: 14 of 15 / “Make like a Frog…,” “Stupid Tourist Tricks” and “It’s a Pooh World After All”

“Up and at ‘em!” declared Terry, bouncing on the bed. “This is it, our last day at Walt Disney World. Time to get going!”

It didn’t take much to prod me out of bed. Today was our last hurrah and I didn’t want to waste one minute. We both awoke with a new sense of vacation vigor. I’m not exactly sure why, other than we were excited about our plans for the day. (“Shawn and Terry; it’s your last day at Walt Disney World. What are you going to do?” “We’re going Park Hopping!”)

For those unfamiliar with this activity, when you purchase a multi-day pass at WDW, you’re allowed to visit any of the four theme parks on the same day. This seems to be a popular plan of action. In almost every trip report I read, the family in the story would go to one park in the morning, stay until the afternoon crowds arrived then head back to their hotel for a nap (or go swimming), and finally, visit a different park in the evening. Most of these families were lodging at a Disney property hotel, so it would appear that Park Hopping is especially easy if you’re staying onsite.

For those veteran WDW vacationers who have gotten this far in the trip report (congratulations, by the way), you’re probably wondering: “Yeah, why haven’t these guys gone Park Hopping?” The chief reason is that we’re novices to WDW. Without trying, we would spend the entire day in one park in an attempt to take everything in. If we had more WDW experience, I’m sure we would be prone to jumping around.

Our goal for the day was to visit each of the four parks. We wanted to visit the attractions we had missed and return to key rides we wanted to experience again. First on the agenda was the Animal Kingdom, to catch an early morning safari. Next would be Disney/MGM Studios, to ride the two thrill rides one more time. In the afternoon, we would venture through EPCOT. And to finish the vacation, a couple final rides at the Magic Kingdom.

Before we left, we had one last breakfast in the timeshare, which turned out to be an eclectic potluck. We hadn’t been to the market in several days, so we were nearly out of food. Terry finished the last bit of cereal we had brought with us. For myself, I made a quesadilla out of three-day-old doggie bag chicken, a leftover package of mozzarella cheese and a half empty bottle of taco sauce. Not exactly the “breakfast of champions,” but good enough to get through the morning.

Back on the Disney property, we made it to the Animal Kingdom in good time. Once inside the gates (and before the first bathroom break) a friendly cast member/marketer approached us and asked if we wanted to try a new gizmo the Disney Company was experimenting with. It was a handheld Palm device that would provide a plethora of park information as we walked around each land. Unfortunately, we were only staying for two hours (our estimate) so we didn’t meet the criteria to “rent” the device for the day. Too bad we weren’t offered this gadget on our first visit; we would have made really good use of it!

In the African Village, the standby wait for the safari ride was only 20 minutes. Not wanting to make the same FastPass mistake as last time, we got in the standby line. Fifteen minutes later we were on our jungle trek. We were seated on the left side of the jeep, so we had a new vantage point for picture taking. We spotted about the same number of animals as on the last excursion. And once again, Little Red’s trunk was rescued from the evil poachers. Amazing how that happens each time…

Leaving Africa, we skipped the tarnished steam train (“themed poverty”) that takes you from Africa to “Conservation Station,” where you encounter such thrilling attractions as a petting zoo and an exhibit on conservation. We had actually visited this attraction three days ago. I didn’t mention it in the previous report because the attraction was such a disappointment. We left feeling like we had wasted precious afternoon time.

Our next stop was Asia. Along the way, we found the “secret path” between the two lands, which I had read about on the internet. Not much to write about—just a small dirt path through of the landscape, created by someone who didn’t want to walk on the main thoroughfare. No big deal. It was too early for the first showing of “The Wonders of Flight,” so we walked around the Tree of Life to Dinoland USA, to go on the Dinosaur ride for the second time. The standby wait was short, so again, we didn’t need to get FastPass tickets. As we were being strapped into the bucking jeep, I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t flinch at any of the mechanical beasts that come our way, no matter what happened (no girly man this time!). As luck would have it, we were seated on the right side the vehicle, so we got to watch the other riders react when the “big guy” came charging up next to them. But then, the right side held it own encounters with other creatures. I made it off the ride with my vow intact, but have to admit that I didn’t have as much fun, acting indifferent. It’s much more fun to be scared.

Walking back toward Asia, we arrived early for the “Wonders of Flight” show. We were able to sit down in the section where hopefully Terry would be selected as the volunteer to have the bird land on her arm. And guess what? She was selected! Terry was so excited. She stood up as instructed, put a dollar bill in her hand and held out her arm. The large black and grey vulture glided over the heads of the crowd toward her. Suddenly, the father of a small family seated in front of us stuck his arm straight up in the air. The startled bird veered off and landed clumsily at the foot of the stage. The animal trainers quickly escorted the bird back to its perch. The father smiled innocently, until the Master of Ceremonies said: “OK. Now let’s have everyone remain seated with their arms down, except for our volunteer. Let’s try it again.” I noticed the family was speaking in a foreign language, so I wasn’t sure if they understood the announcer (or if they just pretended not to). Once again, the large bird flew toward Terry. At the very last second, the father jumped up out of his seat and put out his arm. The bird bumped into him, lost its balance and landed on top of the mother and their little boy. Instantly, the bird started flapping, but quickly gained control and flew frenetically back toward its perch. The show’s background music came up and the MC hastily distracted the audience with an animal antic on the other side of the theater, but not before the audience caught a glimpse of daggers coming out of the MC’s eyes. This was closest I had ever seen to a Disney employee killing a guest.

The only thing that stopped me from yelling at the idiot in front of us was the thought that he wouldn’t understand. The tension in our section of the audience grew worse when the startled child began to cry (legitimately so; he just had a huge bird land on him!). I could see the bird had grazed his arm when it took off, but I could also see that there was no blood; the mark was barely red. The mother made the situation even worse by starting to frantically examine her son’s body, with a dramatic look of horror over the scratch. In any language you could tell where this was going. (“My baby! Somebody call a lawyer!”) The father just sat there sheepishly. I was drilling holes in the back of his head with my stare. I was daring him, for just one second, to have the courage to turn around and look at me. Meanwhile, Terry sat down dismayed. She was so looking forward to this, and this jerk ruined it. Eventually the family (and the audience around us) turned their focus back to the stage. I don’t remember what happened with the rest of the show; I just wanted it to be over.

I was hoping the Disney Secret Police would come and escort the instructionally-challenged tourist away, but no such luck. Walking out, we agreed to not let the incident ruin the rest of the day, so we let it go (actually, we ruminated on it all the way back to Seattle). It was time to leave the Animal Kingdom and head toward the next park. After saying goodbye to the birds along The Oasis path, we hiked back to our rental car and followed the signs to the Disney/MGM Studios. Fifteen minutes later, we arrived in the parking lot, where we discovered a bonus to Park Hopping. You only have to pay for parking once; just keep the receipt on the dashboard.

Back on Sunset Blvd, we checked the wait times for the Tower of Terror and Rock-N-Roller Coaster. Even though it was late morning, the Tower only had a 10 minute wait; the Coaster’s queue was 25 minutes. We walked over to get FastPass tickets for the Coaster, but then realized that the return time would be too late in the afternoon. Instead, I hopped into the standby line. Terry declined to join. She assured me that she didn’t mind waiting while I went on the two thrill rides. She was happy to go clothes shopping in the shops along Hollywood Blvd.

The coaster line seemed to take forever, but eventually arrived at the boarding station. I was hoping to get a seat in the back (my favorite spot on a roller coaster train), but once again was directed to the front row. A very frightened teenage girl was my riding companion (no “attitude” from her). As I started to assure her it was a fun and smooth ride, we were shot out of the station like a bat out of hell. There were mostly gasps of terror than actual screams (from her; not me!). She got off the ride weak-kneed, but alright.

Quickly, I ran back outside, up the spooky hill and into the soaring Tower. It seemed that with each visit, the elevator drops get more fun and a little less frightening. I ran off the ride and into the (BDB!) gift shop, but Terry was no where to be found. In an impulsive Turbo Tourist moment, I ran up the hill and back into the Tower. Coming out for the second time, I found Terry standing at the exit. Fortunately for me, she hadn’t been waiting long. Terry didn’t find anything of real interest in the shops, so no last-minute purchases were made. Frankly, after two weeks of shopping around Walt Disney World we had seen it all, and were probably more familiar with the Disney merchandise than most Cast Members!

We made it out of the Studios and in a few minutes we were in the EPCOT parking lot. Last week, the repetitive atmospheric music you encounter at the park’s entrance had really begun to drive me crazy. Now it was sounding nostalgic, realizing it was the last time we would encounter it. Once inside, we didn’t have a distinct plan of action, although we were both feeling hungry for lunch. We had already conquered the food kiosks from the Food and Wine Festival and had tried several items in the Millennium Village, so that left the World Showcase restaurants. Looking at each other, we both knew where to go—Restaurant Marrakesh. This would be our third time in two weeks, making it an official family tradition. It’s not the greatest Moroccan food in the world, but we found it to be consistently good and always exotic and fun. We kept promising ourselves to try other restaurants in World Showcase, but we would always come back to this place. (“Tradition…Tradition”)

The rest of the afternoon was filled with visits to attractions and shows we hadn’t seen before. We finally watched the film in the French Pavillion, which was very nice and inspiring. We saw a show at the American Gardens Theater, and we sat down on the sidewalk to watch the antics of a British comedy troupe. For the first time, we took a canal boat across the Showcase Lagoon. We took another look inside the Millennium Village, and we rode the Universe of Energy for the second and a half time. We had skipped The Living Seas the week before, so we made sure to catch a ride through the aquarium (which is certainly showing its wear). I also caught another trip on Test Track as a single rider (Terry wasn’t interested).

I originally made Priority Seating for Tony’s Town Square restaurant in the Magic Kingdom, but instead, we opted for dinner in Germany (Terry’s heritage). Still full from the Middle Eastern lunch, we couldn’t justify the cost of the Biergarten Oktoberfest buffet, but we did notice a small counter service that had a couple German items. There was no place to sit in the courtyard, so we had to stand eating our two sandwiches, which turned out to be just the right size meal. Before we left, I ran into the German gift shops and grabbed another one of those incredible cookie thingies we discovered the week before. Now that it was dark and the crowds for the evening parade were amassing, it was time to leave EPCOT. On the way out, I suggested a stop in The Land Pavilion, to visit one of the minor shows we had never seen before. Both “The Circle of Life” film and “Food Rocks” show had a fifteen minute wait. Terry suggested the film, but I wasn’t in the mood to be preached at again by Disney. Timon and Pumbaa are cute characters, but Terry and I already know how to (and do) conserve and recycle. Somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered something about “Food Rocks” getting a makeover, so we entered the small theater to be entertained. What a mistake! Is this not the worse Disney attraction ever created? This animatronic nutrition show is on par with Chuck E. Cheese’s pizza parlors! What a sad way to end our time at EPCOT (albeit a memorable one). If we didn’t have the Magic Kingdom yet to visit, we would have gone on another Future World attraction, just to get the bad memory of this one out of our minds.

It took a bit of time to find a parking space at the TTC center, and then the ferry ride across the lagoon, but we finally arrived at the Magic Kingdom. Our main goal was to see the Main Street Electrical Parade, since it didn’t perform on our last visit a week ago. I had a hunch the crowds would be smaller in Frontierland, which turned out to be true. I kept pushing us further up the street in hopes of finding an empty spot among the masses, but Terry wisely put her foot down and declared that we were staying put. I must say, it was great to see this parade again, since they shipped it from Anaheim to Orlando a few years ago. (Note: It’s now back in Anaheim at the California Adventure.)

There was only a couple hours left before the park closed, so we had to work fast to catch the attractions we wanted to visit. First stop was the revised “Enchanted Tikki Room: Under New Management.” It’s understandable that Disney would update a nearly 40 year old attraction, but we found the end result to be very mixed. I laughed at one of the new jokes, but mostly I missed the classic songs and pleasantness of the original show (I guess pleasantness is passé). The black light florescent paint that was slapped on the tikki idols seems to be a sad emblem of an unsuccessful overlay (sigh). Next stop was Tomorrowland, for our last trip on Buzz Lightyear Space Ranger Spin. We came out of Buzz just in time to see the end of the fireworks show exploding behind the Tomorrowland buildings. With no time to waste, we ran into Fantasyland, fighting against the existing crowds, to get in line for the “Legend of the Lion King” show. Yes, Terry was finally getting me to sit down and watch a theme park stage show, even if this one was performed with puppets. Because we arrived after the fireworks, a large crowd had already gotten in line, which made for a long queue. (Note: Always watch the fireworks show in front of the attraction you plan to visit next.) Eventually, we entered the pre-show and into the theater. As expected, the show was a rehash of the storyline from the movie. It was nice to see the art of puppetry being used, but mostly I fidgeted. I was anxious to get out of the theater, so we could get on one final ride: The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh. It was looking like the Lion King Show might be the last attraction on our vacation.

With three minutes to spare, I sprinted to the new Pooh attraction. Terry caught up a moment later and we entered the queue. If you remember last week’s visit to the Magic Kingdom, we skipped this “dark ride” because the wait was posted at two and a half hours! Now, it was only 20 minutes. This was a key ride I wanted to experience, because it was new, and I figured it would make a nice ending to our day and our vacation. Also important was the fact that this ride had replaced one of my favorite childhood attractions: Mr. Toad’s Wide Ride. (Watch out. Here’s comes the soapbox; one last time.) It’s regrettable “Mr. Toad’s” was removed, because I believe it did more to build a sense of courage in children than any other Disney attraction. Courage, you say? Yep, one of the unrecognized attributes of Uncle Walt’s theme parks is the way his story-themed attractions helped to develop courage in kids through symbolic accomplishments. Plummeting down 200 feet in a steel contraption at a Six Flags park does requires courage, but crashing through an English Tudor mansion, careening past tottering barrels, and barely missing a locomotive are part of a symbolic rite of passage. Conquering “Mr. Toad’s” meant you had graduated from the milder rides, and were now ready for adult adventure stories (Pirates, Haunted Mansion, etc.). Sadly, there’s now one less “transition” ride available for kids. (Thanks go to the Toad-In website for initiating this theory.)

While in the queue for Pooh, we could hear the announcement that the park was closed for the day. Fifteen minutes later, we were seated in our “Poohmobile” and entered the soft, supple world of Christopher Robin. It’s not that I hate Pooh. I think AA Milne’s original stories are wonderful. It’s just that the ride is so…nice. It certainly is a nice way to end the day (like on Peter Pan’s Flight). During the ride, I spotted the homage to Mr. Toad, which was nice. There were no screaming kids in our vehicle; that was really nice. Even the bouncing motion with Tigger is a nice touch. And, as one could guess, the ride exits into a (BDB!) gift shop filled with generic Pooh merchandise… which isn’t nice.

(“Now it’s time to say goodbye to all our company…”) Leaving Fantasyland, we slowly strolled down a deserted Main Street, out the exit gates, and down to the ferry dock. As our boat arrived on the other side of the lagoon, we were able to watch the Electrical Water Pageant. We certainly didn’t expect to see this floating parade, but there it was, with its barges illuminated with fanciful images of the Sea. Uncle Walt must have been smiling down, because it was another (although final) “Magic” moment on our vacation.

It was a long sad walk back to the car. Back in the timeshare, we finished packing our giant suitcases. It was a good thing we brought so many health food items with us to Florida. The empty space provided enough room for all of the souvenirs. I certainly went overboard on the mementos, but what the heck. I’ve never been this self-indulgent before, and most likely, it will be a very long time before I get another chance. Besides, all the keepsakes were going to look great back home in my Disney-laden office! By the time we finished organizing, cleaning up and packing every last thing; it was 3:00am. That’s OK; it was only midnight back home, and it was time to get our body clocks back on Pacific Standard Time. Lying in bed, I found it hard to sleep. “Reality” lay just around the corner. There was a job, a new house, a move, and the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays waiting for us. Worrying about them wasn’t going to make them disappear, so after several fitful starts and turns, sleep finally came. No dreams this time. The “Magic” Moment that was this incredible vacation, was coming to an end.

Quote for the Day
“Mr. Toad always was my favorite… even people who hate Disney can’t resist getting hit by a train and going to hell.” (Newsgroup posting; 9/7/98)

Saturday, November 18, 2000 / Day: 15 of 15 / “There’s No Place like Home”

After a few hours of sleep, the travel alarm went off for the last time (on this vacation anyway). We got up and quietly packed the final bits of clothing and toiletries. Thank goodness we didn’t have an early flight. There was no mad dash to leave the timeshare, or to race to the airport. Terry even had time to say goodbye to the birds down at the pond and give away her final bits of breadcrumbs. Everything went smoothly with the departure, including the ride to the airport, the car rental return, and the check-in process (have I mentioned how great it is to fly off-season?). Even with all the souvenirs, the luggage came in under the maximum weight, so there were no penalties to pay. We took one last glimpse at the Walt Disney World store in the airport’s concourse and entered the People Mover for a quick ride to the gate.

Waiting for the flight, I picked up a discarded copy of “USA Today” lying on the seats, to get an update on the Presidential election. Reading the paper was like jumping into the middle of a book. We had missed so many details of this national event; it was difficult to understand the context of the articles. At this point in the saga, the counting of ballots in Broward County had become a confusing joke. The Florid Supreme Court was either making brilliant—or bizarre—decisions depending on who you talked to. All I wanted was a concise summary of what had happened over the past ten days, and a cogent explanation of the basic arguments (“A recount? Based on what precedence? Who sued first? Is that legal?” Etc.) Of course, that’s asking too much from the news industry. (Have you noticed how the Press seems to go out of its way to NOT give a succinct account of core issues?) For me, the confusing political news was the transition point out of the idyllic world of “vacation,” back to hard reality of “real” life.

The flight home was long and uneventful. I spent most of the time trying to make mental notes of the wonderful, and sometimes challenging, experiences we encountered on the trip. Overall, it was an incredible vacation; one of the best I had ever experienced. Everything seemed to go so smoothly. So many aspects of a vacation can go wrong (and it seems usually one or two do), but we didn’t experience anything of the sort. This freed us from worry or having to concentrate on travel challenges. Our focus remained on relaxing and having a great time.

I’m still amazed how smoothly everything went. Oh sure, I complained within the report about this and that, but nothing of great importance. Well, OK, maybe one—Priority Seating. I really don’t know if we simply experienced bad luck or if our experiences were the norm. I understand this service isn’t a “reservation,” only “priority” over the peons waiting in line with you. But does “priority” really mean an hour wait? Every time? That certainly was our experience and the chief reason why we started eating meals offsite. Disney lost quite a bit of our discretionary income due to this disappointing dining feature.

But, by and large, we really did have a delightful time. Vacationing in Florida in November was a terrific decision. The weather was wonderful and the crowds were mild (or is it the weather was mild and the crowds were wonderful?). We rarely had a long wait for a main attraction. Well, OK, there is one waiting conflict I can bring up—FastPass. At times, this service seemed to act more like a slot machine than a reservation system, with questionable payoffs. When the contraption was working correctly (and if you know how to work the system), it works well in your favor. But if the planets aren’t aligned right, the wait in the “Fast” queue turns out to be anything but fast. I would say about 30% of the time, FastPass reservations LOST us time in the park. It was often quicker, not to mention easier, if we didn’t use it.

And what about the wonderful experiences of the trip? Gosh, there were so many! From the High Tea service at the Grand Floridian, to the “Behind the Magic” tour, to showing off Walt Disney World to family members, to experiencing a new theme park—the Animal Kingdom. Of course, I can’t forget all of the “Magic” moments Uncle Walt bestowed upon us, like circling the illuminated Spaceship Earth in the front cab of the monorail, receiving a free soak at the Disney Spa, ceremoniously cutting off my ponytail, noshing at all of the Food Festival kiosks, and getting to see the Christmas decorations before the Thanksgiving crowds arrived.

What lesson did I learn from this vacation? First and foremost, the many Disney-related websites offer a plethora of travel information, but don’t listen to the personal advice of the internet posters. Newsgroups are full of subjective information and Disney bulletin boards are no exception, especially the food recommendations. I really don’t think I’m a food snob (I mean, we ate at the Cracker Barrel three times, for goodness sake). Maybe my expectations were too high, but when I kept reading that Dole Whip ice cream, Japanese snow cones, Tonga Toast, orange sodas, etc., were “just incredible!” I expected just that—something incredible. Instead, we found average tasting snacks and meals wherever we went. Not that there’s anything wrong with average or “traditional” snacks (items you have each time you visit a park), as long as it’s described as such. One of my all-time favorite treats at Disneyland is the New Orleans fritters. I must have one every time I go, but I wouldn’t tell guests that “they’re incredible!” (And while you’re there, forget the churros from the push carts. Take the time to drive to the Redondo Beach pier and experience a really good one.)

Eventually, we descended through the cool grey skies of the Northwest and landed in beautiful Evergreen Seattle. Although it was the weekend before Thanksgiving, the airport was not crowded. Waiting for us at the gate was Terry’s mother. She had just flown in from Southern California. Terry and her mom had arranged it so we would meet up together. Our friend Reed picked us up and a short ride later, we were back home. We had to wait until the next day to pick up our birds from the bird sitter. It was great to finally be back home with our “babies.” Eventually, everything got unpacked. The vacation souvenirs were temporarily stored away, but a few short weeks later, they came out again as Christmas gifts. With the impending house move, we didn’t have the time or the money for traditional Christmas shopping.

I went back to work for three days, but Terry scheduled the holiday week off to be with her mom. It was a bit hectic to fly home, go back to the old grind, and get ready for the Thanksgivings holiday, but it all worked out. As we sat down to homemade turkey and all the trimmings, we couldn’t help but be grateful for the tremendous vacation we had just experienced, to be back home with family, and to soon be moving into our new residence. It was an amazing time in our lives; one that would not soon be forgotten.

The future looks bright and hopeful, like that promised at EPCOT, or in the Carrousel of Progress. Perhaps, maybe in the near future there will be another wonderful trip to Walt Disney World, waiting for us “just around the river bend.” Because, you know “a dream is a wish the heart makes,” and a Disney fanatic has gotta dream…

Quote for the Day
There's a great big beautiful tomorrow
Shining at the end of every day
There's a great big beautiful tomorrow
And tomorrow is just a dream away
Man has a dream and that's the start
He follows his dream with mind and heart
And when it becomes a reality
It's a dream come true for you and me
Yes, there's a great big beautiful tomorrow
It’s just a dream away
(“Carrousel of Progress,” Sherman Brothers)

EPILOGUE

“So, why did it take you three years to write a trip report?”

On the first day of our vacation, we had the strong sensation of being wrapped in a bubble (which we thanked God for). There seemed to be a bubble of peace and safety which stayed with us and didn’t leave until we got home. I wish I could say the experience remained, but as most home owners know, moving into a new house and making repairs don’t always go as expected. After the perfect planning of the vacation, almost everything that could go wrong with the new house did. For example: missing carpet and base molding, painters messing up the entire schedule, toxic fumes and emergency housing for the birds, electrical panels that squirted water when it rained, electrical outlets that shot two foot flames, furniture movers with alcohol on their breath at 8:00am, spending Christmas Eve driving a moving truck… You get the picture.

The first half of 2001 was spent settling into the new abode and trying to find the normalcy of life. During the summer, there was time to sit down and start writing, but then the awful events of September 11th came along. At the same time, my boss retired which required me to take over the office, as the Board of Directors picked a new Director, who just happened to be from Orlando. Instead of keeping the organization in Seattle, the new boss moved the office to Florida in five weeks. Before you think this was the fulfillment of my life wish to work at Disney, we decided to stay in Seattle. We had just bought a house we loved. Terry had the perfect job. We had to say no.

2002/2003 was spent being unemployed with little time to write a trip report. The Northwest experienced the worst unemployment rate in America, from all of the collapsed dot.com companies and thousands of Boeing layoffs. 800 mailed resumes later, I secured a new job. During that time, I found time here and there to write a couple paragraphs. Eventually, I was able to finish the Epic, just before the third anniversary of turning 40. I’ve kept wondering if it was worth the time and energy to write this thing, but if you the reader enjoyed the report, had a laugh or two, and gained some insight on Walt Disney World, then it was worth it. In a way, Terry and I weren’t alone on our trip. You joined us by traveling on the memories of our wonderful vacation.

Thanks for reading!

Shawn Corkery