GenePool Humor

Vacation 1999

Day Three: Pooh Cops A Feel

Nine-ish, A.M.

No wake-up call, and there is much rejoicing.

Some time over the course of the previous evening the subject of overall lack of sufficient sleep was brought up a number of times. After much discussion it was determined that the cause of the problem was the insistence of Disney people to actually wake us up at the time we had foolishly requested them to. I think it would be a great feature if they consciously elected to tack on a half hour or so on the grounds that nobody who has spent the entire day walking around the 7.3 million acres of Disney property is in their right minds.

Anyhow, so we slept in. I don't think Dawn and Rhoda (we had some contractual problems with Maude, so Rhoda will be taking over) realized exactly how good my immediate family is at sleeping. When they send Marissa over-- showered and fully dressed-- to see how much longer we're going to be, Marissa finds us all still in bed.

9:40 A.M.

Just to keep us from starving, I head to Port Royale and pick up some donuts, and coffee. This is mostly for me and the kids, since Deb has already decided to eat a large, extravagant, long and drawn out meal experience, and since the rest of us want to spend the day doing more than eating, the only person she takes with her is Rhoda. Rhoda is also the only one in the group who can match her pace bite-for-bite.

10:25 A.M.

While standing at the bus stop and awaiting the arrival of the Epcot bus (and counting the "internal" buses) we strike up a conversation with another family. This chat begins when the husband of this clan announces to the assembled "is anyone here going to Epcot?"

There is a little-known feature about Disney that I think they should advertise more often. You know how on just about every vacation at least one thing goes wrong? Horribly wrong, in some cases? Well at Disney World, for our convenience, all those bad things happen to one designated family per resort. This way the rest of us can enjoy ourselves.

According to our fellow bus stop occupant, half of Epcot is "closed." We saw this for ourselves the previous evening, but had not really concerned ourselves with it because we were far too hungry.

He and his wife and children had left the hotel early in order to ride on Test Track. Evidently, this ride opens exceptionally early, earlier than the rest of the park. Test Track is still the holy grail of rides for me, too. A year ago I wanted to ride it, but I found it wasn't even open yet. Now that it is open, it's on my short list of things to do as soon as possible. He felt the same way which is why he was in line at 7:30 A.M. Unfortunately, the Test Track people said, the ride was "experiencing delays." In other words, it wasn't working. This is the other thing I've heard about Test Track that has made me somewhat wary. My boss, the grand keeper of all information that is Disney, even suggested I ride Test Track in the morning because the ride itself apparently moves more SLOWLY as the day wears on. I don't even understand how this could be possible.

So after this family waited for two hours, through several delays, they announced to all of the Designated Vacation Goats in line that Test Track was being closed temporarily. Presumably, the Test Track employees who made this announcement were also armed at the time.

So this poor guy took his family on the bus back to the hotel, where they changed into their swimsuits and headed back to the bus stop.

"We're gonna spend the day at Blizzard Beach," he says.

"Ah," is all I can muster. Because halfway through his narrative a bus to Animal Kingdom had come and gone. And I know something he clearly does not know; the Animal Kingdom bus is also the only bus that stops at Blizzard Beach.

11:00 A.M.

We arrive at Epcot and commence the all-important Purchase of Personal Fans. Just about every little boutique here sells small fans that one can wear around one's neck. They are shaped like Mickey's head, and are designed specifically to break within one day.

11:10 A.M.

Now properly adorned in our totemistic Severed Head of Mickey gear, we gather just inside the gate and make our plans.

This is my idea. While I hardly consider myself to be "leading" this group in any way, I know if we don't decide up front to wander about on our own, we're going to spend the day doing absolutely nothing of consequence whatsoever; even chimpanzees in the wild understand that hunting parties shouldn't be very large. So we all proclaim our intentions regarding where we would like to go while here.

11:20 A.M.

We're still proclaiming.

11:25 A.M.

Okay, we've worked it out. Deb and Rhoda head off to France for their lunch appointment. Me, Mamom, Papop, Dawn, Becky, Tim and Marissa go to Spaceship Earth (the big golf ball thing.)

For the record, I do not like Spaceship Earth. It is quite possibly the dullest ride ever invented. My son, however, loves it, as does my wife, but only because it's narrated by Jeremy Irons.

11:40 A.M.

Not only is it the dullest ride ever invented, we actually have to wait in line to get to it. Ordinarily, there is hardly any line at all, but today, naturally, is the exception.

We find out why once we're inside and on the ride itself. It stops THREE TIMES due to "temporary delays." I'd heard (again, from my boss; she's really not that busy) that a little boy was badly injured on this ride recently because he evidently got up during one of these delays and one of the animatronic cavemen beat him severely with his styrofoam club. (Okay, that isn't the exact story, but it's close.)

I'm beginning to think maybe Disney isn't Y2K compatible.

11:55 A.M.

Now the splitting up starts in earnest. Papop wants to go to the Living Seas, and so he heads in that direction while Dawn, Marissa and Becky go to Honey, I Shrunk the Audience, something Timmy has vowed to never see again after last year.

Now I may seem a bit selfish at times, but I'm not about to leave my mother alone to watch Tim the Energy Wonder. Not in this heat. Plus, other than Test Track-- which I'm not about to go to after the tale I'd heard-- there's nothing much I want to do at Epcot.

Also, it seems half of the park really IS closed. There are barriers set up all over the place blocking off certain areas. This is due to the preparations for the upcoming Millennium Party that Disney is planning to throw at Epcot starting in October and lasting for a full year. There is also an enormous crane next to the golf ball that will eventually look like the Sorcerer's Apprentice Mickey's arm waving a magic wand at the number 2000 which will be perched on the side of the golf ball. I'm sure it will look rather impressive. Right now, it just looks sort of odd.

So me, Tim and Mamom head to the World Showcase.

12:30 P.M.

There is only one good reason anyone should even consider walking around the World Showcase when it's 100 degrees and unbearably humid: shopping. This is the ONLY place in the entire 9.81 million acres of Disney where one can buy merchandise that does not have a Mickey Mouse insignia tattooed on it somewhere. What is possibly even more astonishing, the prices really aren't that bad. I don't know how they get away with it.

I have two goals for the remainder of the afternoon. One is to keep my son happy until 4:00 P.M., which is when we all agreed to meet. Two is to make sure my mother doesn't die. I'm not sure which one is the greater challenge.

Somewhere near Canada, or possibly England, we buy Tim a disposable camera so he can take pictures himself. This occupies some of his time rather nicely; he stops several times to capture random blades of grass and indigenous birds for his photo album.

1:15 P.M.

We reach France, and ditch Mamom.

In theory, Papop is going to be coming along at any moment. Before parting ways with him, we agreed that he should have no trouble catching up to us as we strolled along the World Showcase, provided he went in the same direction as us. So Mamom sits down in an air-conditioned cafe in France to get out of the sun for a while, and to wait for him.

Since Tim and I are on an official shopping quest, we continue. Tim has already decided he wants to buy a ring. I don't know why. I do wear two rings myself (wedding ring and college ring) but I think he might be taking his cue from Becky, who got some jewelry in Japan last year.

1:30 P.M.

We stop to wander about in Morocco. Every "country" has performers that put on shows over various parts of the afternoon, and the Morocco performance consists of a contortionist who is quite clearly an alien being who hasn't been properly assimilated. I can think of no other explanation. Tim doesn't think much of the show, however, acting as if perhaps he sees people standing on their hands while kissing their own butts all the time.

2:00 P.M.

Our ring quest brings us to Japan, where I'm holding out for the possibility that Japanese men wear jewelry. This does not appear to be the case, unfortunately. However, Tim does find a magic trick. This particular trick is a little clear plastic box with a ring in it (hence Tim's interest.) What's supposed to happen is, a larger, opaque rectangular box goes over the little clear plastic box with the enclosed ring in it. A little plastic sword is then inserted into the top of the large opaque rectangular box, and then the sword is slid down, and when the large opaque rectangular box is removed, the sword has penetrated the little clear plastic box and the ring. Ever patient, Tim wants to do this RIGHT NOW. I try to explain to him that in addition to containing a variety of small, breakable pieces, the trick also comes with instructions on how one does it. Tim has little patience for this concept either, primarily because he believes it's "real" magic, and hence, needs no instructions. He expects to be able to just do it. I manage to hold him off by mentioning that we still haven't found a proper ring for him.

2:50 P.M.

I am now officially very hungry. We stop at the American Experience for some food.

Here's how much Disney thinks of the U.S. Every "country" in the World Showcase has its own restaurant with authentic native cuisine (even England, if you can imagine.) In the American Experience, the representative of the United States, they have: fast food.

Nonetheless, it's quick, it's cheap (relatively speaking,) and I'm hungry. Tim announces he is not hungry at all, for no reason other than that maybe he thinks we'll be able to get back to the room faster and try out the magic trick if he doesn't stop to eat. He changes his mind as soon as he sees my chicken sandwich, which we end up splitting.

This is actually turning out to be a pretty good day for the two of us. When I had heard Marissa was coming to Disney I was worried Tim might feel left out, because Marissa and Becky bond as only two little girls can. Tim is used to having Becky all to himself. So I've been making a point of showing him whatever extra attention I can. Also, girls want to do all the wimpy rides, and what fun is that?

3:00 P.M.

Mamom, Becky, Marissa, Dawn, Deb and Rhoda find us.

Apparently, while relaxing in France, Mamom discovered Dawn and the girls, and the four of them subsequently discovered Deb and Rhoda, who had just completed their two hour meal, also at France. (I'm frankly suspicious; how can anyone spend that much time just eating?) Mamom asks us if we've seen Papop, who is still missing. The last time anyone saw him was when Deb and Rhoda ran into him just before they found Mamom and Dawn and Becky and Marissa. (I TOLD you to take notes.) Papop parted with them because he wanted to find Mamom, as he was worried about her.

Me and Tim, having finished eating and also frankly enjoying our brief respite from the estrogen portion of our group, leave "to go find Papop."

3:20 P.M.

Our long search, spanning eight countries no less, is over. We have attained a ring for my son. In Germany, if you can believe it. It is a birthstone ring. It is shaped like Mickey. It is cheap. We're both quite happy.

3:30 P.M.

I have a problem with hats. I've always had this problem, dating back to when I was a kid and I wore a baseball cap all the time. I wore the baseball cap because I was insecure about the size of my ears, which looked elephantine to me. The cap didn't cover the ears of course; it covered the hair, which I grew too long intentionally in order to have it cover my ears. Naturally, my hair is curly, so I had to keep a rather large head of hair in order to get it to cover my ears, and the hair always ended up matted down by the baseball cap, which was okay since I almost never took it off. This is why in every class picture I took from Kindergarten to 7th grade I look like I'm wearing Princess Leia's hair.

Today I have no interest in a hat in order to cover my hair. I'm now over the ear insecurities, thanks to therapy and lots of recreational drugs. I want a hat in order to hide my face from the sun. I buy a hat every year I'm at Disney for this express purpose, and every year I get a hat I think is really cool, and then when I return home I find it no longer fits. My head is evidently smaller in Florida than it is in Massachusetts.

I find a really fantastic hat at the African outpost between Germany and China. (Did Disney even LOOK at a map when they designed this?) It's even loose on my head, nearly guaranteeing it will still fit me if I ever want to wear it again. And best of all, it's made of leather. (We'll discuss my leather fetish another time, after the children are in bed.) I wear it right out of the store.

3:45 P.M.

Do you have any idea how hot a leather hat is? No wonder the salesman looked at me like I was a nutjob when I told him I was going to wear it out. Fortunately, he gave me a bag, which is where the hat stays for the remainder of the day.

4:00 P.M.

We find Papop, although I can't really ascribe this to any detective work on our part, per se, since we agreed to meet at 4:00 P.M., and, here we are.

4:20 P.M.

Now that all of us are together again, we gird our loins (okay, no, I don't know what that means) and head for the exits.

It's already been a long day, although it might be tough to tell based on this account so far. The thing is, it's difficult to really capture an afternoon in which we did nothing except walk and shop, and describe it so that you, the reader, could go "wow, what a long day it's already been. Perhaps they should go back to the hotel now and rest, or just save themselves the time and collapse now from sunstroke after having walked 17.3 miles in blistering heat for no intelligent reason. Perhaps they are mad to have even considered straying from their air conditioned rooms and their nice soft hotel beds. Perhaps I should stop having an internal monologue right in the middle of Gene's column so that he can continue entertaining me." Suffice it to say we're all wiped out, and yet we had made reservations for dinner already, and we are required by Disney law to make those reservations or else suffer the wrath of overheated actors in character suits wielding baseball bats.

Our reservations are at Crystal Palace, which is at the Magic Kingdom, so we head for the monorail.

5:00 P.M.

Me, Tim, Becky and Marissa get to ride up front with the driver. This is something you can do if you're fortunate enough to be the first person to ask. Since both of my kids have done this before they occupy themselves by pointing out the sights to Marissa. "Oh no!" they say, "we're going to hit that hotel! AAAAAAHHHHH!" They'll be writing this column for me in a few years.

6:00 P.M.

We're in line. Not all of us, just me, Dawn and the kids. Once we got to Magic Kingdom the remaining sane members of our party decided to go directly to the Crystal Palace and wait for the 6:30 P.M. reservation. Dawn and I volunteered to escort the children to Space Mountain for one ride before dinner. While waiting in the dark halfway up the Mountain, we bide our time by hawking loogies at the people who are walking past us in the FastPass lane. One particularly daring individual in front of us gets so fed up waiting for our line to move that she jumps the barrier and starts heading to the top. We don't know what ended up happening to her, but we do know that she had to have a FastPass to present at the top of the ride or they weren't going to let her through, and yet, she never came back down again. I think the Disney Hit Squad got to her.

6:30 P.M.

We make it to Crystal Palace just in time. In fact, since they couldn't prepare a table until we were all there, we get to wait a few minutes before going in. Tim fills the time up by trying to take our pictures. When we develop the film, later, we discover that he has a great future as a crime photographer, but only when dealing with decapitation victims.

7:30 P.M.

It can take a long time for nine people to eat. Fortunately, Winnie the Pooh and friends keep coming by to hug my wife, and this makes the time just fly. Maybe you've noticed this. Characters will pose with children endlessly-- rubbing their heads, giving them big hugs, standing still for photos, signing autographs-- but the rest of their time is taken up by hugging the women in the party. I grant that hugging the men is not always a good idea, as men tend to be less willing to accept a hug from a stranger in a giant animal suit, but still, when Pooh hugged Deb for the fourth time, it lasted juuuust a bit too long.

8:45 P.M.

Before we started eating, we did something foolish; we promised the kids we'd take them on one more ride before the end of the night. Deb and I didn't anticipate how long it would take us to get to the end of the meal, however, and now it's too late. Worse, we still give it a shot, walking them all the way to Splash Mountain, which is 8.3 miles from the Crystal Palace. We get there and see the sheer vastness of the line, then elect to head back to the hotel instead. As a result, we get weepy kids. Tim is thoroughly discouraged by us adults in general, after having spent the entire day at "we ain't got no rides" Epcot.

9:30 P.M.

Deb and I take Becky and Tim to the hotel pool as compensation for being total failures as parents. Marissa goes straight to bed without knowing my kids are swimming. So don't tell her.

10:00 P.M.

Deb takes the children back to the room. I stick around for a bit longer to take advantage of the bar. I have no choice; they took out the room bar.

10:30 P.M.

Concluding that being hung over for the next day would be a bad thing, I make the semi-intelligent decision to go back to the room, and finish my drink in a location that makes it difficult to order another one. I find Tim is still awake because he needs my help figuring out the magic trick. Astonishingly, it works, it's easy, and nobody can figure out how it's done.

Naturally, I'm not telling you either. Neener neener.

© 2000, Gene Doucette