BhamWriter
04-25-2009, 08:56 AM
So the last full day of our near spur-of-the-moment Disney trip arrived. Three parks plus SeaWorld had been visited, but one remained. Strangely, I wasn’t looking forward to Disney Hollywood Studios. It had become the ugly duckling, the red-headed-stepchild, the ridiculed singing competition contestant of my park experiences. I had intended a couple of hours only, just enough time to ride the new Toy Story Mania!, which was new to me. But, as the ugly duckling turned into a swan, the red-head became Ariel, and the butt of jokes became the mellifluous Susan Boyle, so Disney Hollywood Studios surpassed my expectations to become a truly wonderful experience.
But then, in a moment, it was ruined. It went like this: I was having a great time. Through the morning and into the afternoon, we rode Rock ’n Roller Coaster – perhaps now surpassed by Everest, but great fun nevertheless – and The Great Movie Ride – inexplicably, to my mind, not receiving the makeover it so desperately needs. We saw The Little Mermaid and ended the excursion with The American Idol Experience (my wife is a huge fan of the show; she tries to tell me I am, too, but I don’t believe her). We even ate at Sci-Fi Dine-In Theatre (I had never had a good meal there, so stayed with what I had heard was very good: burger and shakes; and, yes, they were).
But in the midst of it all, something so unexpected occurred, so devastating, that I can barely bear to think of it: My wife beat me at Toy Story Mania! After the ride, I stared blankly at the scores, trying to comprehend. Perhaps there was a glitch in the system that reversed our scores. Perhaps my trigger stuck or my shooter was otherwise defective. Perhaps there was a cast member somewhere adding points to all the women who play the game, some type of affirmative action.
But all I could hear were the words my youngest son, now 21, had uttered in other contexts, his taunting recitation of Darth Vader’s words when he fought Obi-Wan Kenobi: “Your powers are weak, old man.”
Could it be my son was right? Could it be, after all this time, after so many glorious victories, after so many instances of crushing my opponents – yes, mostly women and little children, but a victory is a victory – that my powers had diminished to this ignoble point?
I thought of complaining to the cast members, berating them for their obviously defective equipment or bias, but, instead, slumped off the ride, a beaten man. My wife, whom you think would have sympathy for her fallen hero, smiled and laughed, seemingly oblivious to the pained shell of a man walking solemnly next to her. So we walked on under the blazing Florida sun. Someday, perhaps, I’ll avenge my humiliating loss; I’ll toss digital balls and arrows at digital Toy Story artifacts once again. Perhaps then I’ll reclaim my lost honor, feel once again the chest-beating pride of a vigorous man. But, until then . . . until then . . . what?
I shall remember this day, and in each instance I shall mourn the loss of my youth. I shall hear the taunts of my son coupled with the taunts of the insidious Woody, who instigated my downfall. Someone is to blame. Surely not I. Surely not I!!! But, no one else, only I walked away with a score smaller than my wife’s. Only I bear this humiliation.
Fortunately, I went back to the room and got a nap. Then I felt better.
After the nap, we went to Epcot for Extra Magic Hours. Epcot is a wonderful evening experience, especially after most people leave the park. Prior to 9:00, the park seemed full, too hectic for Epcot. But, after that magical hour, the park seemed to relax, to find itself once again as a place of quiet contemplation and appreciation of beauty.
My wife wanted to eat orange chicken again, so, while she ordered hers, I stepped down to Germany to get a frankfurter and sauerkraut, then returned to China to eat with her. The food was quite good. We had begun the evening at Spaceship Earth and rode no other ride until closing. Between those times, we strolled, shopped, took pictures, and I drank wine via the Wine Walk in Italy, Germany, and France. My favorite was a red sparkling wine in Italy. For the most part, I didn’t care for the wines, but I prefer red to white, and only one offering was red.
We also took the opportunity to see The American Adventure. I’ve seen it many times, but it never ceases to inspire me. I worry about how long the spirits adorning the sides of the theatre will live within the American heart and culture, but, for now, I bask in the power of the American story. The American Adventure is a technology wonder, even after so many years, and the words and music and images are powerful indeed.
Finally, it was after 11:30, and time to go. But we decided on one more experience: Soarin’. I had hoped to walk right on, but it was after midnight before we soared once again over the grandeur of California. Settling back to earth, we gathered our things and walked a final time to the front of this most magnificent of theme parks. Perhaps “theme park” is a designation that doesn’t even do justice to what it truly is, but, however we wish to categorize it, it is unique and perfect for what ails a tired soul.
We returned to CS for a final night of rest before returning home. It was 2:00 before we finally got to bed, but the day had been a very nice exclamation mark to a very enjoyable trip.
But then, in a moment, it was ruined. It went like this: I was having a great time. Through the morning and into the afternoon, we rode Rock ’n Roller Coaster – perhaps now surpassed by Everest, but great fun nevertheless – and The Great Movie Ride – inexplicably, to my mind, not receiving the makeover it so desperately needs. We saw The Little Mermaid and ended the excursion with The American Idol Experience (my wife is a huge fan of the show; she tries to tell me I am, too, but I don’t believe her). We even ate at Sci-Fi Dine-In Theatre (I had never had a good meal there, so stayed with what I had heard was very good: burger and shakes; and, yes, they were).
But in the midst of it all, something so unexpected occurred, so devastating, that I can barely bear to think of it: My wife beat me at Toy Story Mania! After the ride, I stared blankly at the scores, trying to comprehend. Perhaps there was a glitch in the system that reversed our scores. Perhaps my trigger stuck or my shooter was otherwise defective. Perhaps there was a cast member somewhere adding points to all the women who play the game, some type of affirmative action.
But all I could hear were the words my youngest son, now 21, had uttered in other contexts, his taunting recitation of Darth Vader’s words when he fought Obi-Wan Kenobi: “Your powers are weak, old man.”
Could it be my son was right? Could it be, after all this time, after so many glorious victories, after so many instances of crushing my opponents – yes, mostly women and little children, but a victory is a victory – that my powers had diminished to this ignoble point?
I thought of complaining to the cast members, berating them for their obviously defective equipment or bias, but, instead, slumped off the ride, a beaten man. My wife, whom you think would have sympathy for her fallen hero, smiled and laughed, seemingly oblivious to the pained shell of a man walking solemnly next to her. So we walked on under the blazing Florida sun. Someday, perhaps, I’ll avenge my humiliating loss; I’ll toss digital balls and arrows at digital Toy Story artifacts once again. Perhaps then I’ll reclaim my lost honor, feel once again the chest-beating pride of a vigorous man. But, until then . . . until then . . . what?
I shall remember this day, and in each instance I shall mourn the loss of my youth. I shall hear the taunts of my son coupled with the taunts of the insidious Woody, who instigated my downfall. Someone is to blame. Surely not I. Surely not I!!! But, no one else, only I walked away with a score smaller than my wife’s. Only I bear this humiliation.
Fortunately, I went back to the room and got a nap. Then I felt better.
After the nap, we went to Epcot for Extra Magic Hours. Epcot is a wonderful evening experience, especially after most people leave the park. Prior to 9:00, the park seemed full, too hectic for Epcot. But, after that magical hour, the park seemed to relax, to find itself once again as a place of quiet contemplation and appreciation of beauty.
My wife wanted to eat orange chicken again, so, while she ordered hers, I stepped down to Germany to get a frankfurter and sauerkraut, then returned to China to eat with her. The food was quite good. We had begun the evening at Spaceship Earth and rode no other ride until closing. Between those times, we strolled, shopped, took pictures, and I drank wine via the Wine Walk in Italy, Germany, and France. My favorite was a red sparkling wine in Italy. For the most part, I didn’t care for the wines, but I prefer red to white, and only one offering was red.
We also took the opportunity to see The American Adventure. I’ve seen it many times, but it never ceases to inspire me. I worry about how long the spirits adorning the sides of the theatre will live within the American heart and culture, but, for now, I bask in the power of the American story. The American Adventure is a technology wonder, even after so many years, and the words and music and images are powerful indeed.
Finally, it was after 11:30, and time to go. But we decided on one more experience: Soarin’. I had hoped to walk right on, but it was after midnight before we soared once again over the grandeur of California. Settling back to earth, we gathered our things and walked a final time to the front of this most magnificent of theme parks. Perhaps “theme park” is a designation that doesn’t even do justice to what it truly is, but, however we wish to categorize it, it is unique and perfect for what ails a tired soul.
We returned to CS for a final night of rest before returning home. It was 2:00 before we finally got to bed, but the day had been a very nice exclamation mark to a very enjoyable trip.