March 4, 2010

At Least If You Wear A Fanny Pack Your Child Will Have Someplace to Barf (Disney World, Part 2: Barf Happens)

As you all know from my last blog entry, my family was in the world of Disney last week. Upon re-reading that blog, I realize that it showcased the downside to Disney. My only explanation for this is that (a) I was still in a sugar/carbohydrate induced coma from the “vacation”, and (b) There is a negative underbelly to Disney that involves sights and smells not every tourist can handle. These things can take a few days to detox from. After many nights of waking up in a cold sweat and having vivid nightmares during which I screamed out things like “Suck on my Fast Pass kids!” and “Giant turkey legs are for private consumption!” I think that I am finally ready to write about the positive parts of a visit to The Kingdom of Mickey.

People say you learn something new every day. The first day at Disney I learned this: The Boy  really, really, REALLY doesn’t like it when I get down and boogie in the “Move It! Shake It! Celebrate It! Parade”. That street party really got this woman going! It is one catchy song, and the parade has The Mad Hatter, King Louie, and -get this- funny guys on giant stilts! What’s not to love? As the Disney rhythm coursed through my veins, there was no way I could keep this booty still. Do I love my son? Sure. But if he denies me the chance to bump butts with the giant orangutan from Jungle Book, I definitely must question HIS love for ME.

The next thing I learned at Disney is this: No matter how Magical the place, there is still gonna be barf.

Near the end of a day at Animal Kingdom, as we were walking on some sort of monkey trail, The Boy said his stomach hurt. Since we are really awesome parents, we just assumed he was whining because he was tired of walking and we kept on going. To make a long and disgusting story short, stuff happened and we exited the park an hour or so later pushing The Boy in a Disney wheelchair holding a barf bag in his lap. I have four big shout-outs to give here: (1) Thanks Disney Nurse for giving us the chair and bag, (2) Thanks Yellow Cab Driver for letting barf-bag-carrying people get into your car, (3) Thanks Bay Lake Resort for paying for our cab, and last but not least, (4) Thanks to the boat driver on the Jungle Cruise for teaching me that everything at Disney is “magical.” The Boy may have barfed until late into the night, but it was magical Disney barf, and if I plugged my nose and squinted a little in the night-light lit room, I could almost convince myself that I saw fairy dust, or at the very least, Disney confetti in the barf bucket.

Another thing I learned at Disney is this: In The Kingdom, they are very protective of their characters.

Being a newbie to The World, I had visions of walking down the streets of Disney arm in arm with Piglet. Maybe stopping to high-five that singing Teapot while on my way to the funnel cake wagon. I thought there would be characters wandering around everywhere. What I learned is that if you want to meet a character you have to get in a big-ass line full of whiny kids and wait all the ding dong day. Normally I wouldn’t be concerned about this issue. The Boy does not like or want anything to do with the characters, and I am not one of those 50-something year old cat lady virgins roaming around the park with her autograph book shoved in her Disney World fanny pack. No, I would never be concerned about the difficulty of character interaction were it not for the fact that my friend Casey dared me to P-Hug one of them and get a photo.

This is the paragraph in which you discover yet another layer to my weirdness. “P-Hug” is a term that Casey and I came up with to describe what happens when someone hugs you and instead of hugging in a butt-out position (which is appropriate form), they hug you in the pelvis thrust forward position, which is not appropriate form since it is a very close relative of the “High School Dry Hump” and a hug-turned-humping can make some people very uncomfortable. Me, I’m okay with it. But as I said, some people might find it uncomfortable.

On every excursion I need a mission and the P-Hug Mission was one I accepted with gusto, but when I discovered that the characters had more body guards than Obama, I was afraid that I would not succeed. I spent days scouting out the character greeting spots and I grew more and more weary with each one. I texted Casey and told him that I didn’t think it was going to happen and he said to me “If we don’t pull this off the communists will win.” Well, I couldn’t let that happen, so I got myself together and re-focused on my goal. The Hub, who started out the week thinking that I was insane (as usual), really started to get into the P-Hug spirit after a few days. Maybe the thought of Communists winning lit a fire under his butt too. After all we both saw “Red Dawn” when we were kids, and if Swayze could’ve cut back on all the violence and just P-Hugged Goofy or Pluto to get peace, I’m sure that is a road he would have chosen. Anyway, our lucky day finally came in Epcot. We had seen many characters that day but most of them were your garden variety “people characters” like Aladdin and Pocahontas, and they didn’t interest me. I wanted something big and furry. Finally, as The Boy and I rested on a curb in the U.K. The Hub came running towards us saying “Pooh and Tigger are back there… and they are ALONE!”

This was music to my ears. Suddenly full of energy once again, I jumped up off the curb and ran to a building in the back of the U.K. showcase and there they were…Pooh and Tigger, just hanging out in a room with none other than a Disney photographer. This was my lucky day. First I P-Hugged Pooh Bear, who didn’t even flinch when I rubbed my goodies up against him. When I finished with him, I moved on to Tigger. Now, as most of you know, Tigger is a bit wild and if anyone was into the P-Hug it was him. As a matter of fact I could barely pry him off of me, and HE turned it into a P-Hump all on his own. But it can’t be wrong if it feels so right. At least that’s my motto. So I sent Casey a text that said “Mission Accomplished: The pelvis has landed” and my vacation was complete.

So Disney will forever remain in my mind as a place of magic. A place of overeating. A place of Fanny Packs and Scooters. A place of many smells, both good and bad. A place of dancing. A place of barfing. I mean, a place of MAGICAL barfing. And most importantly, a place of P-Hugging giant, fluffy tigers and bears. Oh my!

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2 Responses to “At Least If You Wear A Fanny Pack Your Child Will Have Someplace to Barf (Disney World, Part 2: Barf Happens)”

  1. The Femats Said:

    Hilarious!!! Loves this!

  2. andreassarah Said:

    Love it!

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