Sunday, November 27, 2011

Three Libras: Animal Kingdom In My Soup

For the first time, the four of us sat down to eat as a group. I was famished. The last thing I’d eaten was that porch chop at Epcot, and the sun had been high in the sky then. We ambled over to Pecos Bill’s, the friendliest establishment in all of Fronteirland, and along the way, Joe and Paul told Marty about the fixin’s bar, which was legendarily ample and more than earned its status. “You can make a whole salad on the side,” Paul enthused. I was just thinking about the pickles. Holy God, the Pecos Bill’s pickles.

The rest of our first night together passed in a weirdly calm serenity. There’s sometimes a danger bringing your best friends from different parts of your life together, but none of that awkwardness seemed to seep in. We broke bread with each other – by which I mean we consumed mass quantities of burgers and pulled pork sandwiches – then made our way to Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, always better at night. There are some Disney foamers who like to endlessly debate which Big Thunder is better, Disneyland’s or Walt Disney World’s. On this, I’m afraid I must declare a draw. There’s nothing at all like riding through one of Disney’s mountains in the deep dark, screaming and laughing as it slams down hills and throws you into momentary airtime. I’d ridden this with Joe more times than I could count. Last time Paul had been here, he’d clutched an open soda the whole way around the track, never spilling a drop; that’s been his legend. Tonight, I rode with Marty for the first time ever, up, down, spin around, look at the goats and howl into the night.

Some complain about the “magic” at Disney being a corporate imperative, not organic like when Walt was alive. It’s always a little disastrous to compare anything now to when Walt was alive, especially if you were never there. Maybe it’s corporate, and calculated, and specifically designed to force me to “feel” magic that doesn’t really exist.

Well, so what? What is entertainment but a way to manipulate your emotions? If you allow yourself to feel them, if you give yourself willingly to the concepts of joy, and happiness, and, yes, magic, then who’s to say what’s real and what’s not? I rode Big Thunder with three of my best buddies from all over everywhere, and ain’t no one gonna tell me there isn’t magic in that.


* * *

We headed out of Magic Kingdom soon after, exhaustion setting in, and headed out to the frigate launches. The Seven Seas Lagoon, a huge man-made lake just outside the front gates of the Magic Kingdom, is bordered by the Contemporary Resort, the Grand Floridian Resort, and the Polynesian Resort, with boat launches available to take you back and forth from your hotel to the Magic Kingdom. The Lagoon and the monorail serve the same purpose: to honor Walt’s intense desire to avoid urban sprawl at his Florida resort. You park far away, at the Ticket and Transportation Center or at one of the Monorail Resorts, and you travel to the park by monorail or boat (or a bus). Sometimes it’s an inconvenience; on my birthday, the lines for the boat launches were like that scene in War of the Worlds, and the monorails were too intense to even consider. But more often, traveling the ways you don’t at home just adds to the aura of other, of different, of, yes, magic. You shake off the skin of your normal life and put on a new one. Maybe it’s a better one.



We whispered across the Seven Seas Lagoon in the pitchy dark. The water was calm. The tension I carry with me at all times drained away. Once, Joe and I took a ferry over to the Polynesian at sunset, and it’s one of my best memories. This is another. We didn’t really speak, the four of us, and the silence was companionable.

* * *

We had a quick snack at Captain Cook’s, learning that Paul is an absolute fiend for Dole Whips (you could simply say it’s pineapple soft serve, but that’s like saying that the Grand Canyon is a hole in the ground, or that Russell Crowe is moderately attractive). You used to only be able to get Dole Whips in Adventureland at the Magic Kingdom and in Disneyland, but the Poly is an exception. The exception. The delicious exception.

We toured the Poly for a while, but the four of us were bone-tired. Soon enough, we jaunted back to the Pop, where Paul immediately went to bed and Joe and Marty and I unwound in the pool for a bit first. Then sweet, delicious slumber for maybe six hours. Okay, maybe like five.


Because, seriously. It’s Disney World. We never sleep.

* * *




Paul had never properly been introduced to Animal Kingdom. Last time we were at Disney World, we made this our first stop … but it was late, and there was a kerfluffle getting Paul’s park ticket, and we only really got to ride Expedition Everest once or twice before heading back to our hotel. So this, our first full day at Walt Disney World, was to be Paul’s first real introduction to Animal Kingdom, and I was some kind of excited.



Joe, given all his driving back and forth to the airport the day before, was understandably exhausted, so he chose to get a little extra shuteye while the three of us slammed out the door for Extra Magic Hours. For those unaware, Extra Magic Hours are this perk for staying on property; each day, one of the parks either opens an hour early or stays open three hours later. The best thing about EMH mornings is that you can get there earlier than most park guests and get on all the rides first and don’t have to wait around much. The worst thing is that they don’t do the opening ceremonies for EMH, and Animal Kingdom’s is one of the best. Mickey comes out. There’s a jeep.



Ah well. It’s just after eight and we’re shuffling as fast as we’re allowed toward Expedition Everest, the best roller coaster in all of Walt Disney World and maybe, just maybe, the best ride. Ever? Maybe ever. You can see the mountain up there, rising up over the village of Serka Zong in the Asia section of Animal Kingdom. You get in a tea train, two by two, and climb up the mountain, bam, slam back down backwards, slam, plunge into the dark, zoom, come face to face with the towering Yeti … which isn’t quite up to snuff right now because its foundation has cracks in it and they’re using strobelights to approximate movement which is why some wags call it the Disco Yeti but it’s still imposing and scary, eek! There were three of us, so in the interest of fairness, we had to ride three times, switching riding partners so everyone got a chance to ride with a new buddy. Then, Safari Time!



Animal Kingdom is the largest theme park in the US, and the Kilimanjaro Safaris are most of the reason why. You take this jeep throughout the huge back area of the park and see real animals in kinda-real habitats. There’s a whole savannah and there’s, like, giraffes just wandering around. There are hippo pools. And a lion. No cages, just these clever barriers you can’t see that preserve the illusion of these animals just hanging out. There’s a whole story to your jeep trip – poachers and elephants and animatronics, oh my – but honestly, even though Disney does story remarkably well, it’s the weakest part of the safari. Paul, who had never been on the Safaris before, seemed suitably impressed, if jostled. (I do find it funny that Marty, who has only a marginal interest in Disney, has done WDW stuff that Paul, a lifetime fan, has not. I guess it’s all about proximity.)


Proximity.


Rhinos!


Giraffe!

“I’m hungry,” Marty said as we stepped off the Safari.

“Yeah, me too. There is a noticeable lack of Food and Wine Festival here at the Animal Kingdom.” I glanced around. “Um, we could go to Tusker House.” Don’t believe what the Unofficial Guide to Walt Disney World says. About most things, it’s 100% right. About Tusker House, it’s 100% wrong. It’s the best buffet on property and no fooling: there’s regular buffet food, but then there’s also a lot of African-themed stuff like chutneys and couscous salad and stuff. Plus, I’d never been there for breakfast, which I’d heard was a Character Meal.

Paul asked, “Do you have a reservation?”

With a sinking heart, I admitted I didn’t. And I remembered last time I went to Tusker House with Shawn; we had our ADR (advanced dining reservation), but the guy behind us didn’t. We got in immediately. His wait was an hour. “But might as well try, right?” We approached the podium, hopefully looking like the hungriest little boys in all of Animal Kingdom. The Cast Member there smiled at us, took our name, and gave us a buzzer. “Should be about ten minutes.”

Ten minutes! What? I love ten minutes!

We rested our feet for a few minutes and then my pocket began buzzing. “Okay, boys,” the greeter cast person said. “Time to get your picture with Donald!”

“Um, what?” Paul asked. A few things to point out: Paul’s favorite in-park characters are the princesses and the other “face” characters. He’s not as keen on the “fur” characters, even the Big Five – Mickey, Donald, Minnie, Goofy, and Pluto. The other thing you need to be aware of is my mustache. I swear it’s for a reason.



After our photo op with Donald, we got ushered in and dined like kings. Very greedy kings. I had like three helpings of the vanilla topping I used to think was pudding but so, so isn’t. And to be fair, Paul was an amazingly good sport about the characters coming up to us and my insistence that we get pictures with all of them. I insist a lot at Disney World. It’s the best way to get what I want!



Paul and I decided that this was Marty’s birthday breakfast. See, we had a secret planned for later, but there was no reason why we couldn’t start celebrating our First Libra Day at once. Hooray for Libras! Now take a picture with Mickey!



After the cool of Tusker House, the heat outside was punishing. Almost immediately, we took a trip on Kali River Rapids, a white water rafting ride whose queue is intricately detailed but whose actual ride is a little short (especially if you’ve been to the similar but much longer Grizzly River Rapids in California Adventure; I don’t necessarily believe in comparing parks in the negative, but even though Kali has a terrific message of conservation – including a part featuring deforestation, yay? – Grizzly is just more fun. I have a Grizzly hoodie! I also have a lot of hoodies.) Here’s the thing: do we go on these rides expecting to stay dry? They’re designed to drench you. We were across from this woman and her family, and she was laughing on our first big plunge. Then the massive wave came over the side and she wasn’t laughing any more. We were. The three of us got soaked, but it was all okay because we had dry clothes in our locker at the front of the park. Thinking ahead!

Oh, and one last thing before we left Animal Kingdom.

“Baloo.”

Paul and Marty looked round. “What?”

“Baloo. I have to see Baloo.”

“We…”

“Oh, I insist.”

At first glance, Baloo (and his picture-partner King Louie, both from the Jungle Book) wasn’t in his customary spot on the path between Africa and Asia. As when I dropped the toothpaste that time, I was crestfallen. Then! A shock of blue among the trees! “There he is you guys it’s Baloo let’s go, let’s GO!” Did I run? A thirty-six year old man with a creepy 70’s mustache and wearing a sleeveless Animal Kingdom T-shirt? Oh, I ran.

It’s played out before and it will again, but it never gets old. We step up. The photographer is all, Oh my God, there are grown men here to see Baloo. I flash my Baloo tattoo. King Louie gets upset beyond reason. Baloo goes apoplectic with joy and dances about, perhaps adding stylish body art to his list of bear necessities. And then we get this picture:



As we stepped off the path, Joe texted. “I’m awake, showered, and on my way to Epcot. Meet at Mouse Gear?”

And off we went!

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