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murphy1
08-14-2007, 07:36 AM
Saw this in our newspaper recently, thought you guys would enjoy.



Richard Petty racing and Cinderella wishes await Disney World visitors

By BETSA MARSH
Travel Arts Syndicate

Published on: 08/05/07

Orlando — Richard Petty, meet Cinderella. The king of stock car racing is suddenly hanging with the queen of fairy tale endings, and I'm suspended somewhere between them in a limbo land of hot laps, cool blue satin and anything my heart desires.

Disney World is all about fantasy, of course, but I'm suddenly whiplashed between tearing around the track and dressing for the ball. I'll spend my afternoon at the Richard Petty Driving Experience and my evening, thanks to my lucky friend Susan and Disney's Year of a Million Dreams, under Cinderella's turreted roof.


Betsa Marsh / Travel Arts Syndicate
(ENLARGE)
The Richard Petty Driving Experience at Walt Disney World Speedway uses 350-cubic-inch V-8 Chevys on a tri-oval track.


Betsa Marsh / Travel Arts Syndicate
(ENLARGE)
Hazel Harkness, 77, of Lansing, Mich., prepares to take the wheel at the Richard Petty Driving Experience at Walt Disney World Speedway.


Betsa Marsh / Travel Arts Syndicate
(ENLARGE)
No one wants to leave the Cinderella Castle suite. An overnight stay is calculated at a $587 value.

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At the Richard Petty Driving Experience, hot rod passengers and drivers hug the mile-long tri-oval at Walt Disney World Speedway. Petty, now retired, was stock car's all-time leading driver with 200 wins and seven season championships. He's the inspiration to zip up a Nomex racing suit and pull on a helmet in the blistering Florida sun.

I'm going to ride shotgun with one of the track hot dogs, taking eight laps on the straightaways and curves. Others are going to take the wheel themselves, drafting behind their instructors and trying to top that 120 mph mark.

Suited up, it's out to the track for our glory moment, even before we've done a jot of racing. We get to ham it up beside one of the logo-plastered stock cars, grabbing our helmets, giving the thumbs up and acting like we're already in victory lane. The only thing verboten? Blocking Petty's profile on the side panel.

Now, down to business. The crew picks out a giant white helmet that squeezes my head, leaving just a little horseshoe opening for the face. My cheeks puff out — well, since this is Disney — like Chip 'n' Dale's.

Soon they flip the switches on the dashboard and that unmistakable race car roar, the scream of a thousand lions, vibrates from under the hood.

Time to pretzel myself in through the window, ready to be latched into my adult-size kiddie seat. Derek the driver asks if I'm ready, and with a nod, we're accelerating out of pit lane for real laps on a real NASCAR track.

Between the helmet, neck restraint and kiddie seat, there's no room for 360 gawking. It's straight-ahead racing — left turn, left turn, left turn, pit.

It's frustrating that there's only concrete and chain-link fence, no little trees to blur by so I can appreciate our 122 mph top speed. No screaming fans, either, and I'm absolutely convinced that Derek and I deserve them.

But after eight laps, I do have the satisfaction of a genuine checkered flag semaphoring over my head. All the way back to pit lane, I imagine paparazzi racing out to snap our photos and grab a quote. A hunky model will bring me my trophy and all of Disney World will lie at my feet. Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?

She certainly can, if she's spending the evening not just dining at Cinderella's Royal Table, but sleeping in Cinderella's Castle, too. Forget our prowess on the racetrack — the real championship moves come in racing back to the hotel, scrubbing off NASCAR grit and slipping into silk and sequins to meet the Princess of the Evening.

That, of course, would normally be Cinderella herself, all blue satin gown, headband and white evening gloves. But tonight she's sharing center stage with my friend, Susan, who won the night in the Castle suite and asked five of her girlfriends to come along. In a heartbeat, we're the Sinderella Six.

We'll have several castle concierges at our command throughout the night, and it is Steve Skobel who unlocks the unassuming Gothic-gabled door in the breezeway beneath the castle.

Then it's up the elevator to our private Brigadoon — ours for less than 24 hours. But like the Sinderellas we are, we intend to make the most of every nanosecond.

We tumble out of the elevator into a small vestibule, lined with original cels from the "Cinderella" film, then enter the suite. Cinderella's own movie is playing on the flat-screen TV atop the stone chimney breast. Below, a little make-believe fire sizzles, and on the fireback, miniature fiber-optic fireworks pop out of the blackness.

It seems that Cinderella herself has left the chocolates on our beds, with cards hoping our dreams will come true. But there's no dreaming yet because we want to march down Main Street with the hoi polloi and see our castle backlit by fireworks.

Fireworks fading, concierge Julian walks us back to our secret sorority house. Pixies have been busy molding a pumpkin carriage and horses from white chocolate and filling the coach with strawberries and red rose petals.

Our trio of concierges reminds us we can call anyone anywhere in the world for free, and they're on duty all night to fulfill our slightest whim. Six guys once had the Cinderella's Castle suite for the night and played "stump the concierge." So it was demands for turkey legs at 11 p.m., red-velvet cheesecake at 1 a.m., chocolate-covered pretzels at 4 a.m.

Each time, their wish appeared within 20 minutes.

Chocolate-covered pretzels? "We broke into the bakery on Main Street."

For the Sinderellas? It's caramel corn at 3 a.m. and by 3:14, a discreet knock on the door means Cracker Jack is here. Before the Sinderellas crashed, after 4, the princesses ordered coffee and fresh scones to sweeten their 7 a.m. wake-up call.

In between, there was plenty of time to fill Cinderella's whirlpool and soak all 12 royal feet.

I have an obscenely early flight, so I can't wait for coffee and scones. I slip out of the room, not long after the last Sinderella finally crashes. I click a quick mental snapshot of them, curled up sleeping like the little girls they once were with Cinderella, Fairy Godmothers and Prince Charmings dancing in their dreams. Richard Petty's not even in the race.

mook3y
08-14-2007, 09:07 AM
Thanks for the great post!

That was a fun read!

bleukarma
08-14-2007, 09:35 AM
That is a fun read! Thanks!!! :mickey:

pdrlkr
08-14-2007, 09:45 AM
:waycool:

faline
08-14-2007, 11:18 AM
Fun article!

SBETigg
08-14-2007, 11:21 AM
I thought you meant someone was being petty about their stay- haha. Yes, I'm a natural blonde.:blush:

Thanks for the article, Shari!

Sean Riley Taylor's Mom
08-14-2007, 11:36 AM
:cool:

magicofdisney
08-14-2007, 12:34 PM
The Castle Suite is only valued at $587 a night?? :rub::eek: That's a far cry from the $10,000 thrown around in a post I read on here recently. Maybe there's hope for the rest of us. :mickey: