The Happiest Place on Earth

So, wifesy LOVES Disneyland.  She is a full grown woman and, as such, regularly lives out the lyrics of Mary J. Blige.  However, Disney is her Star Trek.  She loves the damn thing.  She owns like hundreds of Disney movies and her eyes twinkle like a little kid at the mention of actually going to the theme park.

Now, Disney is wifesy’s nerd streak.  To me, any respectable person has one.  One of mine is comedy.  You can put on the Sirius comedy channel – blind fold me and 9 times out of 10 I can name the comedian just by hearing the voice and the bit.  Wifesy is definitely a Disney and a music nerd.  To say that I am not is an understatement.  I often – to her horror – confuse Def Leppard and Led Zeppelin.  So, it wouldn’t surprise me if I couldn’t separate Tiger from Goofy in a lineup.  But, as a married couple often does, we tolerate eachother’s foibles.  When we entered the land o’ Disney, there was no question, I was definitely a neophyte on this planet.  Wifesy, thankfully, was happy to act as my translator.

Hurry up and wait
If you know anything about Disney, as wifesy does, you know which rides to wait for and which ones to skip.  I was grateful for this because if I were solo, I easily could’ve waited on a line for 2 hours only to float down a man-made river on a beat up dingy surrounded by animatronic ‘wild’ animals and the tour guides bad jokes.  It could happen.  Okay, maybe it did.  But, only once.  Mainly, wifesy saved me from this torture.    It was only top quality for us – the Indiana Jones ride, Space Tours, Splash Mountain, and Astro Blasters – to name our faves.  If you know anything about Disney you know that once you get there it’s a lot of “hurry up and wait”.  The lines can be an hour long or more.  However, you can do things like “fastpass” it.  This is a system where you stick your ticket into a machine and it tells you to come back within a certain time where you can bypass the whole line.  Usually, your fastpass time is hours and hours later.  So, the end result is waiting, eating a lot, walking around to see which rides you can’t do and then your last hour in the park – racing around like an idiot to get all the good sh*t in.  But, wifesy’s eyes were all a twinkle, her cheeks had a rosy hue, and I’ll be damned if I were going to stop this merriment.  Plus, I was enjoying the darn day too.

Tiger, from a distance, ’cause I ain’t waitin’ on that line!

I can’t believe Disney makes them do this.
Disney is like a G rated bachelor party.  If you’ve ever watched a bachelor party out of control (especially one in the UK), you’ll find yourself saying things like, “Is that drunk cockroach doing a body shot off that centipede’s left breast?”  In the UK, not only are the brides and grooms out of control – just as they are in the U.S. – but, they also dress up like it’s Halloween.  It’s magnificent because if one is to throw up three times, in three different taxis, one might as well do so dressed as Little Bo Peep.  It makes perfect sense to me anyway.  Disney is like that minus the booze.  All day, I saw grown men wearing Mickey ears atop their manly backwards baseball caps.  I mean, where else can you see grown men in Pinocchio outfits and pirate gear?  The poor, male, staff at the lunch joint had to wear a number that consisted of a poofy-sleeved shirt, a loosey-bow tie/ ribbon-thingy, and an apron.  This particular outfit prompted wifesy to cry, “How can they do that to them?  That’s the gayest thing I’ve ever seen!”  Indeed.  It occurred to me that Disneyland is the place where heteros go to be gay for the day.  I say, let them.  Even the breeders are entitled to a little fun.

Sparkly, happy, fun-time bars for gays and straights alike.

The rides, oh, the rides
Indiana Jones was my first real ride of the day.  I went to Disney as a kid, but I was 8, so I don’t remember a thing.  In the current Indiana Jones ride, you sit in a mock, open-sided jeep that tears through the jungle.  Both times I got to drive.  (Wifesy tells me this is very rare.)  I don’t know what I was expecting, but it was not what happened.  The ride began and I started to cackle like a school girl who had swallowed a witch.  I was beside myself with giddiness and I’m pretty sure my hair was sticking straight out on the sides.  Star Tours was up next and it is probably the closest any blogger will ever get to being in an actual flight simulator.  You strap yourself into that thing and a combination of a tilting floor, 3-D glasses, and chairs so high you feel like you can’t touch the ground, really makes you feel like you’re soaring through some other galaxy.  I roared and wailed through that one like Paula Deen eating a Krispy Kreme.  The woman next to me screamed, “I don’t like this.”  To which I said, “Too late now!”  And we enjoyed a communal moment often missed in the land where every individual is crammed into their own car and hurtling down the highway.  The last ride we rode was Splash Mountain.  I called the ride, “Happy Land, TERROR.”  Because that’s what it was.  The log-flume floats through these different rooms that are so happy you almost feel medicated, then out of no where the log plunges about 50 feet straight down to what is surely your immediate death.  Somehow you come out of it soaked, but very much alive.  The ride took a picture of our log-luge during the last terrifying drop (which happened right after some rabbits sang about the glory of life).  The picture was adorable, except I’m not in it.  You can see wifesy’s joyous face, her arms exalted in a bring-it-on expression, and all you can see of me is my arms wrapped around wifesy.  My head was buried somewhere deep down on the floor of the log-luge, praying those little braying, life-affirming, rabbits would go f*ck themselves because I was clearly about to die.

It was ridiculous.  It was wonderful.  We were both like little kids again.

We came home late and fell into bed.  Here, wifesy started to get a bit frisky.  In response, I said, “Listen, you can get on this ride, but you can’t fastpass it.  Fastpass is closed for the evening.”  She cackled like the little kid that she is inside, but smiled at me like a woman.  For me, that’s the happiest place on earth.  Lucky me.  Weeeeee!

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