Thursday, May 08, 2014

In which we imagine JV cursing at Winnie the Pooh while elbowing Minnie Mouse out of the way to get his morning coffee

We kick off the WDW portion of the trip with dinner at California Grill, one of the best eateries on property, high up in the Contemporary. It has a great view of MK, plus great food. I didn’t make a late reservation, where you watch the fireworks from the balcony, although we might still be there if we dawdle enough. Honestly, my feeling was that we’d see the fireworks the next day on the ground when we’re actually in MK, and we needed to be up at the crack of dawn for the opening show there, so why push it?

The opening show at MK, with the arrival of the train and all sorts of singing and dancing and the Mayor of Main Street greeting the guests, is pretty much what I’m thinking of as the Vaughan acid test. If he can make it through that, he can survive anything, up to and including “it’s a small world.” I’m not suggesting that JV is something of a cold-hearted cynical bastard. It’s just that he is, shall we say, more likely to play the part of Captain Hook than Peter Pan in our particular production of the show. This week will be bringing out his kindlier, gentler side, if any. O’C, on the other hand, is nothing but kindly and gentle, with the odd teardrop appearing in his eye at the very mention of Cinderella (who, I keep reminding him, is not real, and if she were, isn’t that person pretending to be her signing autographs in the park). I’m a softy myself, to tell you the truth, although it may not be readily apparent. Kate’s more on the JV side, given that she’ll only go into small world if she’s allowed to bring a bazooka.

The MK day is a long one. You get a bunch of E tix out of the way early, with a few FastPasses in your back pocket for later (probably Peter Pan, Seven Dwarfs and Splash Mountain). By around 11 o’clock the riff and the raff are pouring into the park, and you start gravitating toward the C and D attractions, which never really line up much. When the stomach starts growling you pop onto the monorail for a ride through the Contemporary over to the Polynesian for a nice, quiet lunch and break. I will inevitably fall asleep on the five-minute ride back to the park, fully refreshed for the rest of the day. People might veer off for their own amusements (or peace and quiet) for a while at this point, but eventually we’ll regroup and finish up things. I’m usually not that interested in the day parades, but there is a new one I’ll probably want to catch, mostly for the fire-breathing steampunk dragon. But I’m definitely in for the nighttime light parade (the Baroque Hoedown is a permanent punishment for the Sailors on my iPod) and, of course, the fireworks. One thing we’ll definitely do again is the evening Jungle Cruise—much better than during the day. A reride of Thunder Mountain in the dark isn’t bad either, if the lines aren’t too long.

The final attraction of the day is the run back to the bus to the hotel. You may need to push a few toddlers to the ground on your way, or throw some wheelchairs down a few stairwells, but Kate and I pride ourselves on our speed walking skills, honed through years of Manhattan-tourist-avoidance. I’m expecting the rest of the group to keep up, or suffer on their own. I’m not tucking anyone in but myself, and as far as I’m concerned, getting home as quickly as possible is top priority when you have to get up again bright and early the next morning.

But wait! We’re not getting up all that bright and early. The next day is Blizzard beach. For all practical purposes, we sleep in.

Aaaaah.

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