Summer Vacation
Sept. 4, 2006
Greetings to my faithful public. Tuscany was glorious. Hugs to Antonio wherever you may find yourself. Happy Labor Day to all the nice working people. Your recommended film for today is the classic heartbreaker "Picnic" with William Holden & Kim Novak. Your recommended food today is Claires' favorite, blueberry pie, heated, with a dollop of 'sweet cream' ice cream from Shady Glen in Connecticut. Be sure to microwave the pie only, FIRST darlings. Your recommended soundtrack today is the incidental music to "Much Ado About Nothing" by Korngold. Please , not the Branagh monstrosity, but the original (http://www.arkivmusic.com) particularly the "Garden Scene" for those who are currently recovering a summer heartbreak. This will bring it all back. Onward.
About today's article:
Sure it was 2003, but do you care? Of course you don't. Life is too serious now. I could never write this now. I shouldn't have written it then. But its been a long three years. And in the words of John Lennon, mother never told me 'there'd be days like these. So before Autumn 2006 and the realities of life, truth and redeeming the times because the days are evil become inescapably apparent, here's a commercial. Get real close to the TV.
October 2003
Let me state consciously that I hold no illusions about leading an adult life. It is after 5pm when I become adultly unconscious with a plate of well-done protein in front of me with hopefully a tablespoon of dry Merlot that I feel just whimsical enough to wear a beret in the shower. Yet it becomes evident that, at times, one must reclaim ones groove by way of a small and inexpensive vacation. Can one do a shower let alone a behatted one in Bali on $48? No. I opted for an affordable fantasy, thus leading me to the throng of color and movement that is and ever shall be sprawl without end, the Disney Resort in Anaheim, California. Resort? Yeah baby! It started with a phone call to the Disneyland Hotel which I can safely say needs a nice power-washing. Attendants were helpful in explaining that the resort consisting of 2 more hotels, a new theme park AND AND AND a shopping mall can all be enjoyed for about $350 per night plus a park hopper pass costing about $100. I could get a one way ticket to Bali for that! And you can forget coming home. But I took my fantasy beret off and called a non-imaginary friend who lives in Anaheim. And so it began. Years ago I remember fighting with my brother during (any) holiday meal about Walts intentions; that it all was, as one man once said, for the children. 'Oh STOP!', began the onslaught of a diatribe throwing me headlong into the familiar dyspeptic world of political, literary and philosophical parallels providing daily, nay hourly, reminders of why many family members don't talk outside of passing salt.
The Disney men were clearly not adverse to really, really utilizing our system of free enterprise, however present ventures of The Disney Corp.are gaining a vast yield at the expense of the original theme park, which seems at this point, to be largely neglected. Call me sentimental but when Lincoln suffers from wooden lip-synching in a matrixed world I must react.
In wake of the recent tragedy http://www.mouseplanet.com/david/dk030910.htm) it became a moral dilemma on cancelling the trip altogether. I debated whether or not eight years of Clinton and a post 9/11 world had transformed the happiest place on earth into Pleasure Island. I am here to report that, well, yes it has. Its not Pottersville, but real close; and as we say here upon each and every logic-defying California adventure experienced: way! The classic tale of Pinocchio's descent can be framed by the dilemma of humanity seeking a good time but ending up with a wild one. And the word around the land is that they’re going to put in a Disney water slide down the boulevard. Makes you wonder what Mickey and Minnie might say, that is unless Mickey is now Maude dating underage Japanese anime, which is entirely possible. Upon entering this land which now thankfully resides in a well renovated downtown Anaheim which at one point resembled a Tijuana ghetto (oxymoron!) the first thing you see from the freeway is that promise of guaranteed escape through Disney's imagination and perhaps desire to retire in Lucerne: the Matterhorn (which I found also needs powerwashing). At this time of my life true escape would lie in an actual passport to the alps but alas, a fiberglass one will do. Expectation is set, you can smell what might be the socks of the Pirates of the Caribbean until you veer round to the entrance where the spell breaks as you see what looks like a big yo-yo with Disneyland Resort, California spinning uncontrollably out of it. The state name is helpful for those who believe we live in occupied Azatlan, however I have truck with the word 'resort'. Maybe because it reminds me that I'm not really in Bali. I know I will not get a little umbrella in my $9 hamburger or pre-parade hot chocolate, which I also remember being around the same price. Lots of plastic, cement and no slim, outdated Arthurian script that makes me feel like someday my prince really will come.
Just Disney's name in the famous Disney hand which has become synonymous with global entertainment cartel and the word Resort jarringly attached. And no flowers, just rows of Italian Cypress everywhere hiding endless bus terminals, storage units, camouflage walls, etc. Resorts are a serious money making venture. You bet there's a mall! Parking reinforces that. After crossing the Mason-Dixon line to reach the parking structure, you must admit utilizing the acreage to create more attractions was genius, albeit evil in any direction. Building up instead of out was around in the fifties for heavens sake! I remember as a kid walking what seemed like eternity back to our car. At least as an adult I realize a parking lot with its own horizon to be a phenomenon called Euclidean geometry. Downtown Disney is a pleasant enough typical
outdoor mall with egregiously loud piped music but it is Disney in overdrive and one can only hope the many 'cast members' practice martial arts in order to emotionally master the abusively kinetic atmosphere day in and day out. The mall faces the Paradise Pier, the least expensive of the three hotels offered on the property. This hotel boasts its own entrance (the reservation guy mentioned this) to the new California Adventure theme park and the mall. Convenient alright, unless you want to sleep or awaken to torturously repetitive piped music, theme restaurants and stores ( reservation guy did NOT mention the proximity, the noise or the very active grotesquely self-conscious theme bars which seem to be thriving, i.e. Rainforest Bar and Restaurant, vis a vis Adventureland: it rains inside. Yep.). My boycott of California Adventure was challenged after spying a corkscrew coaster, yet after noting the arresting mouse ears sillouhette I turned, paid my fifty bucks for the original and didn't look back. I must say the simulated San Francisco Transamerica Building structure did make me wonder if they had a Tenderloin exhibit, Castro-For-Kids ride, or perhaps a derailed Muni for people to sit on serving as a 'Family Photo Spot'. "Breakdancing-For-Crack-While-Waiting-for-the-Market St.-Trolley-to-Round-About-Restaurant"? I stopped musing. Forward through the endless maze of ticket kiosks and turnstiles, still hoping to spy a twelve year old Hayley Mills for an autograph to no avail. I was happy to see that blessed train, that archaic monolith of yesteryear still running around the park. No doubt it was still stopping in the pre-Jurassic park panorama of naugahyde dinosaurs-under-glass gumming something green and stringy not refreshed since opening day. This was Disney's contribution to the misguided 50's populist ideal of the self-confident modernist. Evolution, dianetics and a chrome toaster the size of Kansas was modern. I remembered that in evolution the study of punctuated equilibrium requires the occurrence of two unlikely events. In the fifties the only two unlikely events I could come up with would be Republican Eisenhower ending 20 years of Democratic rule in 1952 and Liz Taylor marrying Eddie Fisher. As a child I was promptly corrected by mother during the ride that the fifties and Disney were both wrong and at times unbelievable, and the earth is young and most certainly not a zillion years old. I 'd like to think Disney has now changed his theory by means of personal discovery, but I digress. Following the whistle I trekked down Main Street which still retains charm except for a Starbuck-y cafe, which only reminded me of my first day back from vacation. Up ahead: Sleeping Beauty's castle; it seems so much smaller now. Two swans are present; commiserating, they seem in a funk. 'Dude! You're in Disneyland', I say brightly. 'Whatever' they say with all the apathy of a spent Britney Spears reminded of her pre-pierced, preciously nubile Disney days. They swim away from me as I stare dumbly at their water trail while dripping a $9 ice cream cone on myself. Do they know of the cutbacks? Do they know of the spotty maintenance records? Do they know of the morale rifts and Roy Disney's resignation letter? Whatever indeed. The all too tinny sound of an ill-recorded soundtrack of the original 'I'm wishing' gurgling from the unkempt and overgrown Snow White's Grotto urges me deeper into fantasy's untimely disappointment like a waning love affair. I press forward into the unknown doing the rounds. No luck. Thunder Mt. closed obviously, space Mt closed. Plan B: Tea cups, Casey Jr. Mr. Toad, Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan: wood carvings need repair, many mannequins are no longer animatronic, audio recordings are almost inaudible. Same goes for the Matterhorn which needs an AAA diagnostic test and a fresh Tyrol look. I did get whiplash on this one. Wasn't it smoother? Maybe its me. And whither Bear Country? Dunno said one associate. 'What's that?' said another upon answering her cell phone making plans for the evening. 'whassup?. My shock. ' It was down there , BEAR COUNTRY? Teddi Berra? 7 foot bears in hats playing banjos? You mean you Never saw that? When were you born?' '1985' Stands to reason. Cell-phone rings. (excusing herself) 'Look ma'am, I don't know what you're talking about okay?Have a great day' I was given full attention with this youth who possessed the indignant stare of a 21Club maitre'd being asked for a doggie bag. A little blue caplet was falling over her left eye and she seemed disinterested, adjusting a cartilage piercing. What's wrong with me? I don't need Bear Country. I need an annuity. I smiled & moved forward towards New Orleans Square. This brought back memories of Scott Joplin and unfortunately in more recent years the untimely death of an infant outside of Pirates. Things were different now. People were dying. Things were dirty. Some blue suit spied me sitting somewhere betwixt the Columbia clipper dock and the Blue Bayou restaurant (which I still have yet to dine in) trying to make sense of it all. The suit asks me how I am liking my visit and if he could help me. I see his credentials and its all legit. He's taking a POLL of the guests and their comfort level. I say this interview makes me uncomfortable. I say an annuity would be helpful. I furthermore say a death, referring to Thunder Mountain earlier that month, that could have been avoided by simple maintenance makes me furiously uncomfortable After expressing his discomfort, he left, perhaps to seek his own fantasy. Pirates and Haunted House was an immediately recognizable treat, however many original pirates look in need of a good dusting and again, the sound systems should be completely replaced. The dog holding the keys? Since 1955? Mange. In fact many of the pirates and ghosties need reupholstering, re-mastering, mixing, touch-ups seal-coat, something. Hope now lay desperately in Tomorrowland. Even yesterday Tomorrowland was retro. The future! Brought to you by Amana! Now in its post apocalyptic state sans submarine, (one of the most imaginative if not claustrophobic rides) the drained pool with naked tracks and uninspired , fallen mermaids stands like a forgotten behemoth waiting for the wrecking ball. Or a dolphin show. The George Lucas inspired Star Tours remains fresh even after fifteen years. Which brings us to the new Adventureland/Speilberg ride. Based on a worn Indiana Jones plot, the old Disney feel is captured with delightful synergy, suspense and overall charm. The build up, ride breakaway and familiar aesthetic all come to life with a thoughtful storyboard and satisfying conclusion complete with a beautifully timed excursion drenched with the rush illusion of free-fall instability without throwing your back out. This and the Lucas ride have the original elements of imagination, humor and artistry that feel like home with a properly fashioned live-action vehicle that touts the Disney moniker. It’s understandable how some of the rides become obsolete as the meaning gets lost on a new audience (have ANY kids born in the last ten years read/seen/heard of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Swiss Family Robinson or Treasure Island?). But to sacrifice the original theme park's purpose in preserving the positive Disney pretense of namesake touchstones (which yielded big money being solely reliant on illusion and the artifice of Disney's own imagination)in favor of focusing on an AMUSEMENT park which carries no original ideas or history with the public will prove itself to be fiscally stillborn as these shortsighted, talentless & unimaginative CEO's are exactly the types that think Pauly Shore and Dinah Shore are related. The shameful conditions of ugly stopping points, revealed backdrops, old sound systems, re-re-treaded animatronics, heavy shadows of incompetence and big business, unkempt grounds and the overall familiar aesthetic becoming like a carnival behooves them to hand over the keys to someone, anyone who could please make it what it was. Create new to their hearts content, as long as its within the celebrated classic Disney confines. Otherwise its a sideshow. I know the swans would agree with me. Dejected, I opted out at dusk. No parade. So I went back to my digs for the night, wiser. The Parent Trap was playing on Anaheim cable. With irony and my Indian take-out, I bid welcome to the reckoning of a reluctant grown-up. Later I heard the hollow echo of cheers and sprockets bursting in the heavy so-cal night air. And I remembered my first Disneyland fireworks display in 1976. I finally drifted to sleep, however not without mouse-ears firmly playing about my temples, my name scattegorically sewn with pink thread on the back by Mona, a classic cast member that came on board in 1963. 'Thank you for visiting us today, you go and have a good time honey' she said. I did Mona, I hope you did too.
Greetings to my faithful public. Tuscany was glorious. Hugs to Antonio wherever you may find yourself. Happy Labor Day to all the nice working people. Your recommended film for today is the classic heartbreaker "Picnic" with William Holden & Kim Novak. Your recommended food today is Claires' favorite, blueberry pie, heated, with a dollop of 'sweet cream' ice cream from Shady Glen in Connecticut. Be sure to microwave the pie only, FIRST darlings. Your recommended soundtrack today is the incidental music to "Much Ado About Nothing" by Korngold. Please , not the Branagh monstrosity, but the original (http://www.arkivmusic.com) particularly the "Garden Scene" for those who are currently recovering a summer heartbreak. This will bring it all back. Onward.
About today's article:
Sure it was 2003, but do you care? Of course you don't. Life is too serious now. I could never write this now. I shouldn't have written it then. But its been a long three years. And in the words of John Lennon, mother never told me 'there'd be days like these. So before Autumn 2006 and the realities of life, truth and redeeming the times because the days are evil become inescapably apparent, here's a commercial. Get real close to the TV.
October 2003
Let me state consciously that I hold no illusions about leading an adult life. It is after 5pm when I become adultly unconscious with a plate of well-done protein in front of me with hopefully a tablespoon of dry Merlot that I feel just whimsical enough to wear a beret in the shower. Yet it becomes evident that, at times, one must reclaim ones groove by way of a small and inexpensive vacation. Can one do a shower let alone a behatted one in Bali on $48? No. I opted for an affordable fantasy, thus leading me to the throng of color and movement that is and ever shall be sprawl without end, the Disney Resort in Anaheim, California. Resort? Yeah baby! It started with a phone call to the Disneyland Hotel which I can safely say needs a nice power-washing. Attendants were helpful in explaining that the resort consisting of 2 more hotels, a new theme park AND AND AND a shopping mall can all be enjoyed for about $350 per night plus a park hopper pass costing about $100. I could get a one way ticket to Bali for that! And you can forget coming home. But I took my fantasy beret off and called a non-imaginary friend who lives in Anaheim. And so it began. Years ago I remember fighting with my brother during (any) holiday meal about Walts intentions; that it all was, as one man once said, for the children. 'Oh STOP!', began the onslaught of a diatribe throwing me headlong into the familiar dyspeptic world of political, literary and philosophical parallels providing daily, nay hourly, reminders of why many family members don't talk outside of passing salt.
The Disney men were clearly not adverse to really, really utilizing our system of free enterprise, however present ventures of The Disney Corp.are gaining a vast yield at the expense of the original theme park, which seems at this point, to be largely neglected. Call me sentimental but when Lincoln suffers from wooden lip-synching in a matrixed world I must react.
In wake of the recent tragedy http://www.mouseplanet.com/david/dk030910.htm) it became a moral dilemma on cancelling the trip altogether. I debated whether or not eight years of Clinton and a post 9/11 world had transformed the happiest place on earth into Pleasure Island. I am here to report that, well, yes it has. Its not Pottersville, but real close; and as we say here upon each and every logic-defying California adventure experienced: way! The classic tale of Pinocchio's descent can be framed by the dilemma of humanity seeking a good time but ending up with a wild one. And the word around the land is that they’re going to put in a Disney water slide down the boulevard. Makes you wonder what Mickey and Minnie might say, that is unless Mickey is now Maude dating underage Japanese anime, which is entirely possible. Upon entering this land which now thankfully resides in a well renovated downtown Anaheim which at one point resembled a Tijuana ghetto (oxymoron!) the first thing you see from the freeway is that promise of guaranteed escape through Disney's imagination and perhaps desire to retire in Lucerne: the Matterhorn (which I found also needs powerwashing). At this time of my life true escape would lie in an actual passport to the alps but alas, a fiberglass one will do. Expectation is set, you can smell what might be the socks of the Pirates of the Caribbean until you veer round to the entrance where the spell breaks as you see what looks like a big yo-yo with Disneyland Resort, California spinning uncontrollably out of it. The state name is helpful for those who believe we live in occupied Azatlan, however I have truck with the word 'resort'. Maybe because it reminds me that I'm not really in Bali. I know I will not get a little umbrella in my $9 hamburger or pre-parade hot chocolate, which I also remember being around the same price. Lots of plastic, cement and no slim, outdated Arthurian script that makes me feel like someday my prince really will come.
Just Disney's name in the famous Disney hand which has become synonymous with global entertainment cartel and the word Resort jarringly attached. And no flowers, just rows of Italian Cypress everywhere hiding endless bus terminals, storage units, camouflage walls, etc. Resorts are a serious money making venture. You bet there's a mall! Parking reinforces that. After crossing the Mason-Dixon line to reach the parking structure, you must admit utilizing the acreage to create more attractions was genius, albeit evil in any direction. Building up instead of out was around in the fifties for heavens sake! I remember as a kid walking what seemed like eternity back to our car. At least as an adult I realize a parking lot with its own horizon to be a phenomenon called Euclidean geometry. Downtown Disney is a pleasant enough typical
outdoor mall with egregiously loud piped music but it is Disney in overdrive and one can only hope the many 'cast members' practice martial arts in order to emotionally master the abusively kinetic atmosphere day in and day out. The mall faces the Paradise Pier, the least expensive of the three hotels offered on the property. This hotel boasts its own entrance (the reservation guy mentioned this) to the new California Adventure theme park and the mall. Convenient alright, unless you want to sleep or awaken to torturously repetitive piped music, theme restaurants and stores ( reservation guy did NOT mention the proximity, the noise or the very active grotesquely self-conscious theme bars which seem to be thriving, i.e. Rainforest Bar and Restaurant, vis a vis Adventureland: it rains inside. Yep.). My boycott of California Adventure was challenged after spying a corkscrew coaster, yet after noting the arresting mouse ears sillouhette I turned, paid my fifty bucks for the original and didn't look back. I must say the simulated San Francisco Transamerica Building structure did make me wonder if they had a Tenderloin exhibit, Castro-For-Kids ride, or perhaps a derailed Muni for people to sit on serving as a 'Family Photo Spot'. "Breakdancing-For-Crack-While-Waiting-for-the-Market St.-Trolley-to-Round-About-Restaurant"? I stopped musing. Forward through the endless maze of ticket kiosks and turnstiles, still hoping to spy a twelve year old Hayley Mills for an autograph to no avail. I was happy to see that blessed train, that archaic monolith of yesteryear still running around the park. No doubt it was still stopping in the pre-Jurassic park panorama of naugahyde dinosaurs-under-glass gumming something green and stringy not refreshed since opening day. This was Disney's contribution to the misguided 50's populist ideal of the self-confident modernist. Evolution, dianetics and a chrome toaster the size of Kansas was modern. I remembered that in evolution the study of punctuated equilibrium requires the occurrence of two unlikely events. In the fifties the only two unlikely events I could come up with would be Republican Eisenhower ending 20 years of Democratic rule in 1952 and Liz Taylor marrying Eddie Fisher. As a child I was promptly corrected by mother during the ride that the fifties and Disney were both wrong and at times unbelievable, and the earth is young and most certainly not a zillion years old. I 'd like to think Disney has now changed his theory by means of personal discovery, but I digress. Following the whistle I trekked down Main Street which still retains charm except for a Starbuck-y cafe, which only reminded me of my first day back from vacation. Up ahead: Sleeping Beauty's castle; it seems so much smaller now. Two swans are present; commiserating, they seem in a funk. 'Dude! You're in Disneyland', I say brightly. 'Whatever' they say with all the apathy of a spent Britney Spears reminded of her pre-pierced, preciously nubile Disney days. They swim away from me as I stare dumbly at their water trail while dripping a $9 ice cream cone on myself. Do they know of the cutbacks? Do they know of the spotty maintenance records? Do they know of the morale rifts and Roy Disney's resignation letter? Whatever indeed. The all too tinny sound of an ill-recorded soundtrack of the original 'I'm wishing' gurgling from the unkempt and overgrown Snow White's Grotto urges me deeper into fantasy's untimely disappointment like a waning love affair. I press forward into the unknown doing the rounds. No luck. Thunder Mt. closed obviously, space Mt closed. Plan B: Tea cups, Casey Jr. Mr. Toad, Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan: wood carvings need repair, many mannequins are no longer animatronic, audio recordings are almost inaudible. Same goes for the Matterhorn which needs an AAA diagnostic test and a fresh Tyrol look. I did get whiplash on this one. Wasn't it smoother? Maybe its me. And whither Bear Country? Dunno said one associate. 'What's that?' said another upon answering her cell phone making plans for the evening. 'whassup?. My shock. ' It was down there , BEAR COUNTRY? Teddi Berra? 7 foot bears in hats playing banjos? You mean you Never saw that? When were you born?' '1985' Stands to reason. Cell-phone rings. (excusing herself) 'Look ma'am, I don't know what you're talking about okay?Have a great day' I was given full attention with this youth who possessed the indignant stare of a 21Club maitre'd being asked for a doggie bag. A little blue caplet was falling over her left eye and she seemed disinterested, adjusting a cartilage piercing. What's wrong with me? I don't need Bear Country. I need an annuity. I smiled & moved forward towards New Orleans Square. This brought back memories of Scott Joplin and unfortunately in more recent years the untimely death of an infant outside of Pirates. Things were different now. People were dying. Things were dirty. Some blue suit spied me sitting somewhere betwixt the Columbia clipper dock and the Blue Bayou restaurant (which I still have yet to dine in) trying to make sense of it all. The suit asks me how I am liking my visit and if he could help me. I see his credentials and its all legit. He's taking a POLL of the guests and their comfort level. I say this interview makes me uncomfortable. I say an annuity would be helpful. I furthermore say a death, referring to Thunder Mountain earlier that month, that could have been avoided by simple maintenance makes me furiously uncomfortable After expressing his discomfort, he left, perhaps to seek his own fantasy. Pirates and Haunted House was an immediately recognizable treat, however many original pirates look in need of a good dusting and again, the sound systems should be completely replaced. The dog holding the keys? Since 1955? Mange. In fact many of the pirates and ghosties need reupholstering, re-mastering, mixing, touch-ups seal-coat, something. Hope now lay desperately in Tomorrowland. Even yesterday Tomorrowland was retro. The future! Brought to you by Amana! Now in its post apocalyptic state sans submarine, (one of the most imaginative if not claustrophobic rides) the drained pool with naked tracks and uninspired , fallen mermaids stands like a forgotten behemoth waiting for the wrecking ball. Or a dolphin show. The George Lucas inspired Star Tours remains fresh even after fifteen years. Which brings us to the new Adventureland/Speilberg ride. Based on a worn Indiana Jones plot, the old Disney feel is captured with delightful synergy, suspense and overall charm. The build up, ride breakaway and familiar aesthetic all come to life with a thoughtful storyboard and satisfying conclusion complete with a beautifully timed excursion drenched with the rush illusion of free-fall instability without throwing your back out. This and the Lucas ride have the original elements of imagination, humor and artistry that feel like home with a properly fashioned live-action vehicle that touts the Disney moniker. It’s understandable how some of the rides become obsolete as the meaning gets lost on a new audience (have ANY kids born in the last ten years read/seen/heard of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Swiss Family Robinson or Treasure Island?). But to sacrifice the original theme park's purpose in preserving the positive Disney pretense of namesake touchstones (which yielded big money being solely reliant on illusion and the artifice of Disney's own imagination)in favor of focusing on an AMUSEMENT park which carries no original ideas or history with the public will prove itself to be fiscally stillborn as these shortsighted, talentless & unimaginative CEO's are exactly the types that think Pauly Shore and Dinah Shore are related. The shameful conditions of ugly stopping points, revealed backdrops, old sound systems, re-re-treaded animatronics, heavy shadows of incompetence and big business, unkempt grounds and the overall familiar aesthetic becoming like a carnival behooves them to hand over the keys to someone, anyone who could please make it what it was. Create new to their hearts content, as long as its within the celebrated classic Disney confines. Otherwise its a sideshow. I know the swans would agree with me. Dejected, I opted out at dusk. No parade. So I went back to my digs for the night, wiser. The Parent Trap was playing on Anaheim cable. With irony and my Indian take-out, I bid welcome to the reckoning of a reluctant grown-up. Later I heard the hollow echo of cheers and sprockets bursting in the heavy so-cal night air. And I remembered my first Disneyland fireworks display in 1976. I finally drifted to sleep, however not without mouse-ears firmly playing about my temples, my name scattegorically sewn with pink thread on the back by Mona, a classic cast member that came on board in 1963. 'Thank you for visiting us today, you go and have a good time honey' she said. I did Mona, I hope you did too.
posted by Napoleon at 8:14 PM
3 Comments:
i am being summoned by max on the baby monitor, but i had to stop by and say, o great, i think my parents want to take evan to disney world this thanksgiving, which means, great, if i want any kind of turkey anything, i will be going too. it's a small world after all.
i hate space mtn, i had to ride it three tortuous times in eighth grad during a youth retreat. might i add i was also wearing a large yellow poncho and got stuck sitting with the associate pastor's son, leland, who i desperately tried not to touch while we were slung around the dark space cavern.
i managed to "get lost" the fourth time we were in line, bc we weren't supposed to leave the group. i was "lost" for the rest of the day, and had a nice time by myself.
thanks for the memories, all too fun!
antonio sent a postalette, he wants to know when you will return, he will have more cheese this time.
not torchwus, but torturous. oops.
Darling,
Madame N. concurs. And of course sitting in a yellow poncho not by Burberry OR Prada makes it all the more tragic. Unless the PK you happen to be sitting next to is Clark Gable which is again, highly unlikely. Hugs to Maxi & Evan.
Cheers all!
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