Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Dante's Happiest Place on Earth
We’re on day two of making our way through the seven Disney amusement parks in lovely Orlando, FL. As I was exiting the parking lot tram of Disney Hollywood Studios with my over wrought, exhausted family of four and the Dyer family who majored in whining, I had to laugh at the irony of the term “amusement park.” A more appropriate name would be “long-ass line park” or “kid who’s under 40-inches tall having a meltdown park” or “one scoop of ice cream for the price of a pair of Nikes park” or “sweat in places you never put deodorant park” or “get trampled by a pack of Asians if you don’t keep moving park.” It’s also ironic that the Magic Kingdom, dubbed the “happiest place on earth” produces family fights worthy of a Dr. Phil episode. I saw a couple of sisters throwing punches today in front of the American Idol stage because one wanted to audition while the other was set on seeing the Indiana Jones stunt double show. The TLC network is missing out big time by not producing a Disney “amusement” park-based family reality show. Gift shop drama alone could carry them through the first season. Tomorrow, I’m going to re-read Dante’s Divine Comedy. I’m quite sure that one of his Cantos of Hell included Disney references.
I hate to sound all negative about a vacation that we’re spending the kids’ freshman years of college savings on. Like everyone says “you just HAVE to do Disney when your children are young.” It’s just funny how the commercials show bright-eyed tots beaming at the sight of Mickey Mouse and Cinderella and my experience today showed a constant stream of preschoolers reacting to Donald Duck, Timone, Buzz Lightyear and Pocahontas costumed characters, as if they were evil dentists thrusting sharp drills at them. Meanwhile their parents patiently waited, cameras focused, for that perfect Kodak moment to go in the scrapbooks. My five-year-old Jack told me up front, “Mom, I like Darth Vader, but I’m not posing with him. I’m just NOT. Okay?” Okay, Jack.
Tomorrow, we’re all doing Blizzard Beach water park. I’m good with that. Going into it with positive expectations. I like water parks. Maybe it’s because I’m a Pisces, or an Aquarius based on the new zodiac, if I actually believed in that stuff, but it’s nice to pull out as a base of reasoning every once in a while.
Right now, all the Weights and Dyers are in bed, except me. I’m in the lobby, watching a woman pulling on the exit door that’s clearly marked “push.” Ah, she figured it out. I had been sitting next to the pool with my computer. A heavy-set guy, reminiscent of Chris Farley, wearing Coleman tent swim trunks sidled up to me saying, “Hi, I’m Massey. What’s your name?”
I wanted to respond, “hey there, my name is ‘happily married, on a Disney vacation with my family, but if I were single I’d have to pass because you have more back hair than my pit-bull.’”
Instead, I just said, “Hi, I’m Angela. It’s cold out here, so I think I’ll go inside.”
Why do people assume that sitting alone outside is equivalent to posting a Match.com bio?
Okay, enough of this blog to nowhere. Did I mention we’re hitting Disney’s Blizzard Beach water park tomorrow? I have sleep to get, snacks to pack and patience to muster.
Wish me luck in this “happiest place on earth.”
Posted by Angela Weight at 12:30 AM