Tag Archives: uncles

Disney: Transportation

Travel

img_0446I can confidently say the only way I have not arrived at a Disney theme park is by jet pack. Every other imaginable way has been done.

On foot? Walk it out! Bus? Yup. Rental car? Yup. Train? Woo woo! Monorail from the future? Por favor mantengase alejado de las puertas! On the back of a white tiger?

Don’t let’s be silly, now.

This is my second time renting a car for the week at Disney and I thought this time we could save some money by just using the bus system but I was quickly reminded that the car offers a freedom from bus-exhaustion, or, if you will, not having embarrassing pictures of yourself put up to Flickr of you asleep rubber necked, slack jawed and drooling. Plus it was a perk since the resort price included free parking at all Disney properties, meaning we could hop from park to park for free.

While driving isn’t as enviromentally sound as Uncle Walt would like, it beats having to experience “the Crush” – the scrum that happens every night when each park closes. Even though the busses run every two minutes, two minutes with a grumpy sleepy child, arm loads of souvenirs and an empty stomach stretches out to eternity. Still, it’s fun to see a child’s face after a day of experiencing a park: worn out, over stimulated and content.

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I’ve always loved the Monorail system at WDW and this time we tried every ride to sit in the front. All the drivers were gracious, chatty and friendly but one stood out. Missed his name but he had such a memorable southern drawl that we couldn’t hear 99% of what he said:

Me: “Did it take long for you to train to be a Monorail pilot?”

Pilot: “Habamemnrm… wermmsh ahslib. Ha! Ha hahaha! Mummminy mouse!”

All of us: Blank Stares.

He let us sit in the command chair  for photos before leaving the cockpit as long as “we didnmrnt touchmna stick, k?” Sharkboy is NOT touchmna stick, k? But his face says otherwise.

img_0916Like this picture? It’s basically what Luke saw when he climbed up the underside of an AT-AT walker. We were asked if there were any “rides” at Disney Hollywood Studio, but that’s going to be a SharkBoy post. Keep your eyes peeled.

The largest ride at Magic Kingdom in terms of showy-ness and “fake” transportation would have to be the paddle boat. I say “fake” because it only goes forward, constrained to a submerged track in the “lake”. Discovering this after riding it for the first time was a bit disappointing because I always fantasized about the River Boat Captain going mental after a day of looping the Lands and ramming the boat into Tom Sawyer’s Island for kicks.

Ironically for this post, the WDW Tomorrowland Transit Authority People Mover was closed during our stay. It’s one of my favorite decompression rides:  it doesn’t offer any thrill other than a calming view, much like Carosel of Progress is my favorite “nap ride”.

She Found Him

Personal Bits

Families. What balls of secrets so tightly wound we are. Time has a tendency to loosen these secrets, no matter how angry or disgusted they might make you feel.

It’s about an hour before T-giving dinner and most of my family (cousins, second cousins, aunts, uncles, etc) are congregated on the autumn-hued, idyllic front porch of my uncle’s Bed and Breakfast in Kinmount. In a lull of the conversation, my religious, neo-conservative aunt throws down a photograph on the table. In it, my cousin is smiling, her head touching the head of a young kid.

“She found him. On Facebook,” She says, matter of fact.

“Oh?” I say, taking up the picture. Not getting it. Both are smiling ear to ear. Are they in love?

“She searched him and found him, sent him a message and he replied back saying he had known of her for some time but didn’t know how to start talking to her.”

I’m even more confused. Was this her new husband? The kid looks half her age. I didn’t recall any break up email or super-poke from her on Facebook letting me know that she was newly single. I’m piecing together a puzzle with boxing gloves on.

My other cousin from a different aunt says, “No! That’s amazing!” and takes the picture from me.

“Muh. Yes. Wow!” I say, utterly faking the moment. After the aunt making blithe comments about these two meeting up, the photo goes back into her purse. Pause. The conversation shifts.

Later, much, I approach Dad with this odd exchange. Apparently this cousin had a child in her teens (un-wed) and gave him up for adoption and had recently reunited with him via the internet. There’s way more to the story that I will not recount for respect out of all those involved but when I got all the “details” it was similar to sitting through a soap opera recount episode while someone punched at my liberal sensitivities. I had heard nothing of this, having been living in England around the time it happened.

And now I understand my neo-conservative wing of my family better. Approve? No. Just understand.