Disney
“Do we have a thermometer? Joe was throwing up last night.”
Here we go. Not only had Joe dehydrated himself on an intentional and hardcore basis for the past three days, but now he seemed to have inherited a stomach bug of a different beast than Oxbear’s carsickness. So poor Joe had to stay home from Disney World. Dad didn’t seem all that disappointed to babysit him.
By the time Dad dropped us off in the Joy Bus, and we walked the lots, boarded the ferry, and disembarked, I could already conclude that this experience was going to be a lot bigger than Six Flags back home.
The morning chain of events led us first to Peter Pan, which Carrie-Bri and I both concluded was just on the edge of a bad dream. Splash Mountain sent my stomach falling faster than it had since I was a teenager. Then the tiki room sent me back to the age of 1950’s caballeros Disney: talking/singing parrots, tribal drummers, and thunderstorms. Then came Pirates of the Caribbean, which became the favorite ride of the day about the time we turned the corner into cannon blasts between an old Colonial Caribbean fort – rising way higher into the air than I thought possible for an enclosed animatronic ride – and a pirate ship rocking in the bay.
By this time, Puck’s conclusion had already come shouting through once again, “THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!”
The hours pass quickly at Disney, especially when you put in ten miles on the day. Puck kept up well even into the afternoon. The group occasionally split ways. After Space Mountain – Puck’s all-time favorite: rollercoaster blasting through the dark – we paused for my first kids’ meal of the day, joining Puck for chicken nuggets.
A jungle cruise, some Mickey Mouse ears ice cream bars. Francis was beginning to crash. Linnea-Irish was practically asleep on the bus ride to Hollywood Studies.
We stopped for dinner before the big end-of-the-day finale show. Puck had upgraded to big boy servings after all that walking: bacon cheeseburger and fries.
The show didn’t start till nine. And with all the screaming and cheering and “the wave”-ing, you’d think Elvis was in the building, not Mickey Mouse. But I have to hand it to them – they know how to throw together some impressive explosions of fire, water, lights, music, and fireworks.
By the time we got back, Joe was sleeping, hoping to join us for Day Two.