* * * * *

                           Some Walt Disney Stories

Speaking of Disney [1]—I have three travel stories relating to Disney, two
horrible (to give an indication of just why I hate travel) and one just plain
silly (not to give a totally biased acount against travel).

Disney Horror Story #1

       My Mom's cousin and her family had come down to visit us and they
       wanted to take their kids to Walt Disney World. I was invited to go
       along, and on Sunday, Feburary 27^th, 1983, we drove to Orlando. The
       adults got to sit in the cab of the pickup truck, while us kids were
       relegated to the uncovered bed of the truck in back. The trip up
       there wasn't that bad, and we stayed with some friends of the family,
       who also worked at Disney.

       The following day, Monday the 28^th, we went to Epcot, having driven
       in the back entrance by said family friend, thus avoiding both the
       long wait to get into the park, and the actual price of admission. We
       ended up entering and exiting the park through one of the
       exhibitions.

       That part wasn't that bad.

       After spending a few hours at Epcot, we left then headed over to Sea
       World for a bit. Things were going fine until I, sitting in the front
       row of the Killer Whale show, got drenched by one of the whales.

       And I didn't have a change of clothes.

       So, on the drive back, there I was, huddled beneath a thin jacket in
       the back of an open pickup truck, trying desperately to avoid
       freezing to death. It was a miserable three hour [DELETED-tour-
       DELETED] trip.

       Made all the worse because Monday, February 28^th, 1983, was the
       season finale of M.A.S.H (Mobil Army Surgical Hospital) [2], which at
       the time, was my favorite TV (Television) series.

       Which means I missed it.

       Well, not entirely—I did see the final two minutes of the episode.

       I ended up getting horribly sick that week.

       [Okay, technically it wasn't technically a horror story about Disney,
       but we still visited one of the parks that day. And I've yet to still
       see the season finale of M.A.S.H., twenty-four years later. —Editor]

Disney Horror Story #2

       No date for this one, but it happened sometime during the very late
       80s, very early 90s.

       During the week, I got a call from my Aunt Kay (Dad's sister) and
       Uncle Dale that they were going to be at Walt Disney World and would
       I like to come by and meet them there.

       For some obscure reason, I said “yes” (I suspect it was because I had
       yet to do a road trip on my own, and felt this was as good a time as
       any—so I guess this would place it sometime in '89 or so). On the
       appointed day (a Saturday as I want to recall) I got up early, and
       drove the two and a half hours along the Florida Turnpike [3] to
       International Drive [4] in Orlando [5].

       It then took another hour to drive the few miles along International
       Drive to the parking lot of Walt Disney World.

       It then took yet another hour to get from the parking lot to the
       actual park itself.

       And then I had the daunting task of finding my familiar relations.

       This was back when cell phones weren't quite as ubiquitous as today.

       I finally met up with them around 1:00 pm.

       Spent the day riding rides and eating hideously expensive food and
       around 10:00 pm we all headed to the monorail station to leave the
       park.

       Only the monorail system had broken down, thus trapping a few
       thousand people within the Kingdom of the Rat God [6] for several
       hours past closing.

       It was around midnight that I was eventually back in my car, heading
       south as fast as my little car could go (I didn't worry about
       speeding tickets as state troopers blew past me on the Turnpike),
       with this massive migraine headache for the entire trip.

       Not a fun time.

Disney Silly Story

       Again, no definite dates, but given the facts of the story, this one
       happened in the very early 90s, back when I was living at home,
       working a job that paid me ridiculous amounts of money, meaning I had
       large amounts of discretionary funds to burn through.

       My friend Sean Williams announced one Friday that instead of the
       usual Saturday plans, he instead, had to drive up to the University
       of Central Florida [7] (in Orlando) to pick up a pair of shoes from
       his brother. Not having much else planned for that Saturday, Bill
       Lefler [8], Mark Hamzy [9] (which is a different Mark than the one I
       normally mention here) and I invited ourselves along for the ride.

       So Saturday morning we all piled into a car and headed north.

       We arrived at Sean's brother's dorm room, picked up the pair of
       shoes, and were back in the car in less than half an hour. Sean was
       ready to drive all the way back; Bill, Mark and I were simply amazed
       that that was it.

       Drive three hours to pick up a pair of shoes?

       Yup.

       So Bill, Mark and I browbeat Sean into going to Epcot [10].

       Now, mind you, it was around 5:00 pm when we did this.

       And it was around 6:00 pm when we paid for, and entered into, Epcot.

       Most people wouldn't have bothered to enter any of the Disney parks
       past 2:00 pm, but not us. We (actually, now that I think about it, I
       think it was mostly Mark) wanted to see Epcot, and gosh darn it, we
       were going to see Epcot.

       We walked around a bit, discussing where we should eat (and that's
       another story for another time, the whole “Where Should We Eat”
       ritutal we went through every Friday and Saturday) and ended up in
       the Mexican Pavilion [11] (where I had Chocolate Chicken—a very
       unusual but rather tasty dish).

       Afterwards, we stuck around for the fireworks show, then left.

       So, not only did we have enough money for a fairly expensive Mexican
       dinner, but enough money to get into Epcot for a fairly expensive
       Mexican dinner.

       But like I said, I was living at home at the time, making obscene
       amounts of money. So was Bill. And Mark. And Sean.


[1] gopher://gopher.conman.org/0Phlog:2006/12/30.1
[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M*A*S*H_(TV_series)
[3] http://www.dot.state.fl.us/turnpikepio/
[4] http://www.internationaldriveorlando.com/
[5] http://www.cityoforlando.net/
[6] http://www.disney.com/
[7] http://www.ucf.edu/
[8] http://www.srccoder.com/srccoder/
[9] http://www.hamzy.info/
[10] http://disneyworld.disney.go.com/wdw/parks/parkLanding?id=EPLandingPage
[11] http://disneyworld.disney.go.com/wdw/parks/attractionDetail?id=MexicoPavilionAttractionPage

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