The following is a harrowing accounting of my family’s Disney vacation in 2014, based on my live tweets of the events in question. While exaggerated, pretty much everything that happened here actually happened. (With further notes in italics.)
DAY 1: THE CHAOTIC WINDS OF TRAVEL
- The day-long trek to move seven people through the myriad of airport travel challenges has commenced. May the odds be ever in our favor.
- We have navigated the alien geometries of airport bussing, security, and terminal A. Now to be jammed in a metal tube and hurled skyward.
- Landed in Florida. Now, to embed ourselves fully in the mechanism of the mouse and his mandatory hospitality. I welcome numb comforts.
- I’m about to board the “Disney Magical Express.” Either we’re headed to Hogwarts or being sent to the Soylent Green charnel houses.
- Finally ensconced in my mouse-authorized cocoon, awaiting foodstuffs to replenish my frail and weary form. Nine hours of transit. Ugh.
- Adrift among the survivors, with no luggage, we salvage what we must. One is too slow and must be culled. Meat for the herd soon follows. (It took four hours for our luggage to actually arrive at the room. Shouldn’t have packed my medication.)
DAY 2: THE TRAGIC KINGDOM
- Today we embark on a doomed voyage into the fetid heart of the Magic Kingdom. What strange and smiling horrors lurk within?
- The spawnlings babble in tongues, gibbering at the burning sky, silhouetted by mouse ears. Many more will rise to gibber in unison.
- In all seriousness hats off to the cast members assigned to keep bored kids amused while waiting in line. Must be tough work; good on ya.
- On entering the park, swipe your Magic Band, and submit your fingerprint, blood sample, stool deposit, and bone marrow extract at the gate.
- One of our party did not meet the exacting standards of the mouse and must now be interrogated with red hot logo shaped irons. (My bro-in-law had a Magic Band ID malfunction and had to fall behind while they fixed it.)
- The grim husk of Up With People marches by, gyrating and wailing with haunting tones. We may not pass until the ritual circle closes. (So many damn parades these days in MK…)
- In line to be processed for nutrient intake. The procedure is fluid from entrance to dining seats to exit, controlled with guide wires.
- They are treating us well here. The food is warm and nourishing.
- It’s a world of madness / a world of fears / with all this blood that we’ve spilled / let the gate be unsealed / it’s a small world after alllllllll
- The masses huddle at the Fast Pass kiosks, awaiting a chance at privilege. They salivate openly at the thought of shorter line times.
- At the Hall of Presidents, an audio animatronic robot shaped like Bill Clinton waggles a cigar suggestively at women in line. (Well, no, but it would’ve been funny.)
- And now a wholesome family ride celebrating alcoholism, hijacking, murder, kidnapping, and sodomy. Yo. Ho. Ho.
- And Pirates breaks down in the middle of an eternal pirate chant loop. The toddlers will be racking up future therapy hours every minute. (Truth here, the ride broke down right in the ‘burning of Tortuga’ scene. Aaagh.)
- This is my new home. I live here now. Forever.
- Ride fixed, we escaped. It was not a pirate’s life for us in the end.
- Trapped by another passing parade. no escape from mandatory entertainment. There is no OUT. There is only IN.
- The doom star beats down and melts our flesh with solar radiation. The end comes soon. Next: The fiery ritual of the Carousel of Progress.
- The party is now split. The exhausted are culled; the strong remain to brave the terrifying future of Tomorrowland. I hope the arcade’s good. (Parents gave up, too tired, and went back. Arcade was kinda weak.)
- Without the futuristic wonders shown in the Carousel of Progress I wouldn’t know about majestic laserdiscs or car phones or VR games.
- The retro-future optimism of this place is charming. Enough to mask out the terrible visage of the real future we are careening towards.
- Hi ho, hi ho. Can we please GTFO. We’ve walked all day, our souls have paid, hi ho, hi ho hi ho hi ho. Back to the hotel to collapse.
- at the hotel so tired so sticky need liquids must collapse oh sweet oblivion take me in your arms it’s dark it’s dark forever and I can see
DAY 3: THE EXPERIMENTAL PROTOTYPE COMMUNE OF TOMORROW
- Today I visit Epcot, to learn how big corporations are improving my life in ways I don’t appreciate enough according to them. I must learn.
- Taking a short boat ride to Epcot. Skipper says to call him Ishmael. First mate is Gilligan. I have a good feeling about this.
- The World Showcase teaches us that our world is getting smaller. Smaller and smaller still. Soon, we will condense into a black hole.
- Waterfalls flow backwards. Buildings are massive spheres and towering ziggurats. This is R’yleh, city of the eternal sleeper, doom of ages. (Also truth. Look at any photos, Epcot is a crazy place.)
- We’re on the thrilling ride known as “Will The Toddler Pee?” This takes 30 minutes to resolve to “Answer unclear, ask again later.”
- After exiting the Spaceship Earth ride I was given a Siemens employee ID chip, and shown to my new cubicle. I may need to stage an escape.
- Journey Into Imagination broke down. However, Journey Into The Darkest Corners Of The Human Psyche is always open for business. (Yep, ride broke. Messed up our entire schedule.)
- Now we graze off The Land. Feed bags are strapped in place as we are herded towards the kill floor. Meat for all. All for meat.
- Imagination’s gaping maw has opened its rich wonders for us to cram in our brain holes. We will be transformed irrevocably.
- Captain EO. A surreal relic from a distant and bizarre era know only as “The Eighties.” We must be cautious not to anger it.
- All the extreme corporate sponsorship is gone now. But I did find this exhibit on what I presume is waterboarding.
- I take it back, there’s still tons of corporate propaganda. It’s just wrapped in a candy colored shell of fun, for smoother indoctrination.
- My day filling my eyes with sponsored fun at Epcot is complete. I now love the almighty dollar. I wish to make sweet love to the dollar.
- Bought a few Infinity figurines today because cute+awesome. Guess I need the actual video game that uses them at some point. Maybe for PS4.
DAY 4: HOORAY FOR COPYRIGHTS, AND EPCOT AFTER DARK
- Today I learn to worship DRM-locked and copyright controlled media empire at Disney Hollywood. No toddlers this time, either! ADULT FUN.
- It seemed inadvisable to drag the toddlers along on 80 permutations of “Michael Bay Orgasm: The Ride.” They do not enjoy explosions.
- This ride dedicated to Hanes(TM) underwear. Urine flow will be induced during ride; purchase replacement pants after.
- Next up, watching faux Indiana Jones fist the living hell out of some nazis. Blood sprays! Men perish screaming! ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED
- Also, some kid mistook me for an audio animatronic. *point* “Mommy, is that real?” … :( (Blargh, actually happened. Visible disability + crowds of kids, not a good combo.)
- Sitting in a faux 50’s living room, enjoying chocolate milk. Fond memories of grandma’s house. I love retro decor.
- Marion sure did punch the hell out of a lot of guys at that stunt show. Was like roller derby in there. Next: Vehicular manslaughter on ice!
- This auto stunt show appears to have used TVTropes as a shopping list. They’re wheeling out the doomed fruit stands now.
- Devouring food in a fake 50s car in a fake drive in theatre. The layers of falsehood run deep, but no complaints.
- what is this I don’t even .. ….. . …. *slurp* (Color changing glowing ice cube, whee! Still have it, best souvenir ever.)
- And now, robots shaped like silver screen icons will terrify me into submission before I turn back, running, screaming, into forever. (aka the “Great Movie Ride.”)
- And I never saw him again. (Bro-in-law is a Star Wars fanboy.)
- The day is done for now. At night I will bear witness to airborne explosives and booming music. Shock and awe campaigns in Florida. (aka the Illuminations fireworks show.)
- Scrambled like cheetahs down to Epcot on a whim to watch massive sky explosions. Caught up with eldest toddler. (She did remarkably well despite Pirates torture; got brave and went on roller coasters and even back to Pirates again before fireworks.)
- Last night a wailing, gurgling beast rumbled to life in my midst at 1am. Our dishwasher spontaneously turned itself on. This is Disney magik. (This seriously happened. Stupid appliance spontaneously activated in the middle of the night and woke me up. How is that even possible?)
DAY 5: THE PATH OF KNIVES AND THE HOLY LAND
- Apparently the chef of this restaurant is an Iron Chef. I need to fight the urge to bite a pepper and make her fry an octopus or something. (Had breakfast at Cora Kat’s.)
- Today I make pilgrimage to a holy place revered by my people. One of the last bastions of our culture standing since the 80s.
- 20m waiting for a shuttle bus… and it’s disabled ramp was busted. Better luck next bus, apparently. Merry go round broke down. (I had universally awful luck with transport all week.)
- Replacement transport has arrived and my conveyance has been lashed down to a rig of pure safety. My pilgrimage may continue.
- The temple is located at the exact opposite side of this place, miles away from the bus landing. We melt as we march onward in grim silence. (Downtown Disney’s bus stops are not laid out very well.)
- At last, I have reached the haven promised by my forefathers in times of old. Truly blessed is this day.
- They actually made a grungy old fake Fix-It Felix Jr. game. So perfect. Even has an old CRT monitor, unlike the others with flat screens.
- Two words: Orgiastic. Bliss.
- Wait, what? Cabinet claims Donkey Kong… but it’s DK2: Jumpman Returns? Is that actually a thing? Mind blown.
- Donkey Kong 2 is NOT for casual tryhards. This is like Dark Souls hard. Can’t get past one enemy-free stage.
- Final Fight: Chillout Edition.
- Feet tired. Sweat accumulating. Time to retire from this retro paradise. Cost a fortune to get in but well worth it. Going home.
- “Purchase Duffy(TM) the Bear for your child! Why? Because we said so and we’ll bombard your kid with ads until they become intolerable.”
- We are broken. Exhausted. Sticky. Ready to flee to the horizon. But… there’s one more day to go. We wring the Fun Towel ’till it’s dry.
DAY 6: THE FUN TOWEL
- We found a Freudian typo in our “corporate citizenship” paperwork today. Very telling.
- Our progress through Epcot is blocked because The World does not open for business until 11. Prior to that the world does not exist. (The World Showcase has weird hours, and it’s the only way into the earlier-opening Future World.)
- I appear to have taken a wrong turn and ended up at Otakon. (Gift shop at the Japan exhibit.)
- “What does the scouter say about its price level?” “It’s OVER SIXTY BUCKS WITH TAAAAAX!“
- Toddlers are riding terrifying artificial commercial ground vehicles. Well, one is cheering and riding, the other is screaming and waiting. (Test Track did not go over well with the three year old. “TOO LOUD! AAAA!”)
- The Foodening is upon us again. Slathering families gut each other with plastic flatware over rights to table space. Troughs run red. (Getting a table at the Electric Umbrella was rough.)
- Next we will plunge into the blackened deep of The Sea and learn all the wonderful ways the ocean can murder us all.
- Things that scare the three year old: Loud noises. Slightly raised voices. Moving objects. Non moving objects. Photosynthesis. Tungsten. (Again, three year old was having serious issues all week.)
- Pro tip.
- Also on the Toddler Terror Watch List: Whales. Demon kings of the sea, these leviathans are red of tooth and fin. Unstoppable fear engines.
- Paying homage to the brilliantly radiant cheese of Captain EO one last time, then turning back. Tomorrow I return home, changed forever.
- “It’s the eighties! Do a lot of coke and vote for Ronald Reagan.”
- Killing time resting in my room. An exhausting day being shunted through the gears and tubes of airline flight tomorrow. I wanna go home.
- Disney shops are homogeneous. Same candy, same knick knacks, same shirts. 100+ shops with the same merch. Why have 100+ clone shops? (I’ll grant World Showcase shops have local goods but most others, despite having actual themes and motifs, just carry the same stuff over and over again. I had a heck of a time trying to find some specifically Epcot branded merch in the piles of generic Disneystuff.)
- One last hurrah. Watching mankind play god with technological wonders in Spaceship Earth before we march on bloody feet homeward. Satiated.
DAY 7: ENDLESS SCREAMING
- Screaming and running around and hurling worldly goods into suitcases and screaming. The Day of Air Travel is upon us. Weep in despair.
- Crammed in the back of a bus, precariously poised on my scooter and awaiting deliverance. May the Airport at the other end be merciful.
- Oh god please let this magical experience be over soon. Please. Please. End this nightmare. Aaaaaaa. Also I could really go for a burger.
- Toddlers have reached the “endless screaming” stage of vacation exhaustion. I may be joining them shortly in this state.
- Tripped and fell while boarding. Turbulence the entire way down, seat belt lashing me down. Airline travel is penance for man’s sins. (I rarely take a pratfall like that. Hurt like hell, then had to sit awkwardly for 2 hours.)
- In the car and FINALLY GOING HOME. City of Angles updates and normal tweets will resume tomorrow. Tonight I kinda need to collapse a bit.
So, what have we learned?
- Shuttle buses are evil.
- Planes seek your death.
- The Mouse is your friend.
- Home is where the shower is.
- Dishwashing machines are sapient.
Stomphoof says
You have survived your encounter with the Rat King. But you will forever scarred. Mourn not for those of us trapped in this heated hellhole, forever told “IT MUST BE GREAT LIVING IN FLORIDA OMG!”
It is a nightmare. The Rat comes to us….we all serve him….we all serve him….
Stefan "Twoflower" Gagne says
One of us. One of us. One of us.