Three Libras: Marching Home Again

Unless you’re John Irving – who writes them first – the hardest thing for any author is writing the ending. There’s various reasons, but at the bottom of it is that when you’re living with something for so long, when you’re invested, when you love the characters and the story, you simply don’t want it to end. It’s not just finishing a chapter, it’s closing the book. There’s melancholy there, even if it was a happy good-bye.

This is farewell, my friends.

Here we come to the end.

* * *

On our last full day at Walt Disney World, we woke as a group and sped toward Epcot. Getting FastPasses for Soarin’ first thing in the morning is at least as important as getting them for Toy Story Midway Mania at the Studios, if not more. Plus, the going is more treacherous. After grabbing everyone’s park passes, you dash under Spaceship Earth (taking a bare moment, of course, to gaze up and marvel at the beauty, because you’re nutty over Spaceship Earth), you veer right into Future World West, up the ramp into the Land pavilion, then down the stairs, then you elbow tourists in the face and get to the FastPass machines. It’s magical.

My three Libras caught up with me at Sunshine Seasons, the best quick service eatery in Walt Disney World … which kind of stinks, because it’s at Epcot, and should Epcot really have all the best food? Especially during Food and Wine? I mean, spread the wealth, Epcot, jeez.


I love The Land. Those are balloons that represent seasons, in case you were wondering.

We had some hours to kill before we lifted off on Soarin’, so we took the time to … you know, just kind of take some time. We had one Event today, but it wasn’t like we had to be at the 40th anniversary or meet people for Blizzard Beach or get back to Animal Kingdom at any set time. We were already at the park we needed to be at, we had nothing particular to do, and we were in the perfect frame of mind to do it.

One of the coolest things about being with Disneyphiles is that in general, they seem more willing to get into certain mindsets. A lot of my favorite things at Walt Disney World fall under the category of “edutainment,” which I’ll eventually stop putting in quotes because it’s seriously been a valid portmanteau for two decades. I like history. I like science. And I apparently like agriculture.

At the ground floor of the Land pavilion, there’s a boat ride called Living With the Land, which used to have this ultra-groovy folk song that went with it called “Listen to the Land,” which would not have been out of place on Schoolhouse Rock. The boat takes you through these huge dioramas showing different landscapes and how plants grow there, and then you go into an actual greenhouse and lab where you get to see all these, like, sciencey ways to cultivate stuff, and there’s a nine pound lemon, and tomatoes grow on trees, and I swear to you it’s awesome and fascinating and not boring. I think Epcot – early on and still – challenges the staid concepts of what a theme park can and should be. It’s not that you can go there and either learn or have fun; you can go there and learn and have fun.


Nine pound lemon. You thought I was being facetious!

You’ll never convince a skeptic, I guess. I love the Hall of Presidents, and I was still angling on seeing the Fife and Drum Corps , who performed near the American Adventure in World Showcase; despite the fact I live in Boston, I go to Florida to get my fill of Colonial reenactments. I also have a cousin who lives twenty minutes away and we only ever see each other when we’re both in New York. I bet there are lessons in there I’m supposed to be learning.

Anyway, after we Lived with the Land, we broke out into the sunlight and humidity, and immediately detoured into The Seas With Nemo and Friends, because hooray indoors! Now, there’s a whole gigantic long history involved with this pavilion. It used to be called The Living Seas, and there were these hydrolators that made it feel like you were going into an underwater station and there was a whole film reel with an epic female narrator who is remembered best for her somber delivery of “…and it rained … and it rained … and it rained. The deluge.” It’s heartily missed and people put up a stink when they “Pixarified” the ride, and I get that, absolutely. It went from a hugely immersive attraction to a charming dark ride, but there’s still one of the largest aquariums in the world at the end, and the four of us spent quite a long time doing aquatic quizzes and staring at fishes and wondering if the manatees know they’re adorably ugly.



Emerging back into the world, we headed straight up split up for a bit so that Joe and I could sing along with Michael Jackson in Captain EO, because my rampant and often misplaced nostalgia knows literally no bounds. Did I dance in my seat? I might have danced in my seat. (BTW: I danced in my seat. And sang. Out loud.) The other two, fearing Michael Jackson’s awesome de-Borgifying powers, opted instead for Journey Into Imagination with Figment and a Lot Less Awesome Since the Days of Epcot Yore. That’s its full title.

Today, we ventured not into the Food and Wine Festival, and there was a reason for that. A good reason. A secret reason. See, I may have mentioned in these reports that while Paul can take or leave “fur” characters, like Mickey or Donald or even, yes gasp, Baloo, he is a humungaloid fan of the Disney Princesses. I’m not sure how he feels about the expanded Princess line, with Mulan and Pocahontas and stuff, but the core? With Cinderella and Ariel and Tiana and all them? Paul goes nuts. (He goes even more nuts over the Princes, but as most – aside from Aladdin and Beast and, currently, Flynn Rider – are somewhat rare, he contents himself with full-on princess squee. But you shoulda seen him when all the princesses and princes showed up for the 40th celebration. He went lunatic.)

I feel like I should be doing another flashback here, but who wants to hear about my workout while texting Paul three months prior? No one, because talking about your workout is always boring to anyone who’s not your workout buddy. And even then. Seriously, just don’t do it. To sum up: awhile back, while I was totally maxing on my quads (literally just made that up; are quads like fingers, or perhaps your duodenum?), Paul and I were texting about what dining he’d fancy during our trip. His Great Big Wish was to have lunch at Cinderella Castle, which literally books up six months in advance. No, I’m not exaggerating. I did my mobile thing, just for kicks, and the Ghost of Siri Future laughed her electronic butt off at me.

Such predicaments I must forge ahead! I then tap-tap-tapped and within moments, I had reservations at the Akershus Royal Banquet Hall in the Norway Pavilion … which, incidentally, was the first full-service location I ever dined at in Walt Disney World. Hooray symmetry!

Somehow, against logic and my own blabbermouth tendencies, I managed to keep Akershus an almost complete secret from Paul the entire time. He had an idea something was up, but didn’t seem to have the foggiest as to the specifics. “Is it going to be fun?” Paul asked as we waited in the blue-neon-drenched corridors of Soarin’. “I mean, will I like it?”

Joe said, “You’ll like it.”

Paul: “I want to know!”

Me: “Soon enough, young padawan.”

And so it transpired. We trudged north – oh, did we trudge, in the rampant humidity and the baking, unforgiving sun – out of The Land and into World Showcase. Did we head right and walk nearly the entire circumference before arriving at Norway? That … that seems absurd, but for some reason, I have a feeling that’s exactly what happened. Why would we do that? Why would anyone do that? There are eleven countries in World Showcase. In counter-clockwise order, they are: Canada, the United Kingdom, France, Morocco, Japan, the United States, Italy, Germany, China, Norway, and then Mexico. I haven’t even mentioned the bridges and this place called The Outpost, which is almost like an African pavilion but mainly serves Coke and has bongos. All the way around.



Regardless of how we did it, we eventually ended up at the Princess Storybook Dining, where we were immediately shown indoors for our picture with Belle. This totally happened, you guys:



We were seated and at once the princesses started coming. Unfortunately for Paul, there was no Tiana in sight. Boo! However, Snow White was there (who I’d gotten my picture with way back in the day, the day being 2007), and Ariel with legs, and even Cinderella, who managed come down off her high horse and mingle with the commoners awhile. Look, I love Cinderella, but like, she knows there’s a Castle named after her, and she seems all haughty about it. You heard me. Haughty.









But our favorite lady at the table was not one of the princesses, but our awesome waitress Ina, originally from Norway and going back the very next day. She told us stories, and listened to ours, and seemed genuinely nice and interested in our trip. “These three are all Libras,” I said, pointing to my friends. “And this is the last birthday party of the trip!”



She beamed down at Paul, and he stood for a picture with her. When she disappeared out back for ten minutes, we were initially concerned … until she returned with Paul’s birthday cupcake, and a song to help him see his special day in.



Three Libras. Three birthdays. Three awesome friends. God, I miss hanging out with those guys.

* * *

The next morning, we ate an early breakfast at Everything Pop, the combination food court/gift shop connected to our resort. It was with some sadness we ate our Mickey waffles; all of us knew this was going to be our last meal together.

I won’t draw that part out, because it hurt then and it still hurts, a little. After we ate, we tossed our suitcases and baggage into Joe’s car.

“I’m gonna miss you, Paul,” I said, hugging him fiercely. “You kind of rule.”

“Maybe December,” he said … although that ended up not happening.

Marty and he exchanged hugs, too, and then Joe was off on chauffer duty again, heading to the airport with the first of us going. Stuffing my emotions deep inside, I caught the bus to the Magic Kingdom with Marty, where we rode Space Mountain again. And again. And again. (My current obsession with Space Mountain will wane, I promise. Just not yet.)

Joe texted to say he was on the way back. There was a Betamouse podcast meet at the American Adventure in Epcot, and wouldn’t it be fun to go there? Indeed it would be! We met Joe by Spaceship Earth, sitting by his lonesome against the fountain and looking impossibly young. Then I made him and Marty have a fake conversation for awhile, because I needed more candid shots of the two of them. At this point, I’d be quite fed up with me.


"So tired of him!" "Me too!" "Oops, here he comes!"

We headed through Future World and all the way to the back of World Showcase. There, we ran into some old and new friends, like Angie and Bob Basl, with whom we’d later travel around the Showcase and sample Food and Wine until our bellies threatened to give out. That milk chocolate crème brulee, I am serious.

But one last thing happened before all that.

“Kevin?” Joe came up behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders.

“Yes?”

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Hear … that.” He turned me around, and there, advancing up the World Showcase promenade, were the Fife and Drum Corps, who I’d wanted to see since touching down at Orlando International all those days ago. So much had happened, and so many plans had gotten shunted aside in favor of new things, more important things. But now, completely unplanned, was this. My thing.






I broke free of Joe and dashed toward them, snapping as many pictures as I could. They played “Yankee Doodle Dandy” and “When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again” and a whole bunch of other Revolutionary War songs. They were serious, stolid, committed to their work and to what their uniforms meant. I felt almost as if I could reach out and touch the moments before we were America, when George Washington and John Adams were men instead of legends. My trip was coming to an end, but what these people represented was a beginning. History was before me in red, white, and blue, a larger history which I, by comparison, can only feel humbled.

But then another thought hit me: these people, these women and men, return every day, to this spot. History repeats itself, right here, where I was standing. What I’m getting at is that there are new beginnings, every single day. We experience them. And just because these were the last moments of my trip didn’t mean that a brand new one wasn’t just around the corner.



* * *

I’ve been a minor character, sort of, in these reports. I’ve let these recollections be about the parks themselves, and my friends. Disney World, along with Marty, Joe, and Paul, is a Libra. I was there for its birthday. I was there for all of their birthdays. That makes me gladder than they’ll ever know.

One day, the four of us will do it again. Maybe next year. I hope it’s next year.

Until then, though, I will read these reports back, and smile, and laugh at my silly inconsistencies and my ridiculous mustache and the way nothing ever goes the way you plan, but how life is richer for it.

I miss you all. So very much.

Happy birthday!