[For part one of this story, please click HERE.]
So, last we left off, it was the end of Day 1 of Wednesday’s and my second trip to Disneyland back in 2008. (Yes, there is a REALLY good reason for all the recent Disney yappin’ going on around here lately, trust me, but you’ll have to wait for it.) (Sorry.) As you recall, I had met Mary Poppins and Bert when I went to the bathroom on Day 1—but just wait and see who we met on Day 2!!!! Read on….
DAY 2:
The Santa Ana winds hit the morning of our second day in Disneyland. And they hit HARD. Holy Clarabelle Cow, they were strong suckers! They made walking in a straight line much, much more of a Herculean effort than it ever should be. And worse? They were carrying soot, smoke, stink, and debris from all the nearby Orange County wildfires, which really made the winds quite brutal. The smoke stung our eyes and the soot penetrated through our clothes and made itself at home in…. umm…. all sorts of delicate places where one NEVER wants soot to settle. (*wince*) By the time we had walked the half mile trek from our hotel to the theme park, we had already renamed them the SATAN Ana winds.
(So there, Mother Nature!)
It was amid the vicious (and pervy) attack from the Satan Ana winds that we met Alice in Wonderland, The Mad Hatter and Peter Pan, attempting to put on a skit for the crowd just inside the park gate.
But it’s kind of hard to put on a skit when you’ve got soot in your eyes and you can’t stand upright or keep your skirt down.
Ohhhhh, to be a character encased in a full-body
And Minnie!
And Goofy too!
It was 95 degrees that morning and, because of the Satan Ana winds, we were kind of afraid to take off our jackets, so naturally a breakfast of ice cream sundaes at Gibson Girl Ice Cream Parlor for breakfast seemed like a stellar move! Mmmmmmmmmm!
(Again, sorry about the quality of some of these pictures. The ones I got from my sister are on super-glossy paper and, for some reason, my scanner just insists on making them look all stripe-y. Grrrr.)
After breakfast, the Satan Ana winds magically died off. (YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) We all de-sooted ourselves in the restrooms, and then trekked over to New Orleans Square because Wednesday really, REALLY wanted to show the other kids in our group the Jack Skellington makeover over at the Haunted Mansion.
The two preschool boys we were with were up for the Tim Burton-ness even though their parents and grandmothers were not so sure it was a good idea. There was some fretting among the adults that it might be too scary. However, the little fellas both thought Wednesday was about the coolest person on the whole dang planet and, if she thought it was awesome, well, heck, then it must be!
Here is what it looked like as we got near the front door of the mansion. Soooooooooo cool!
As we climbed into our “Doom Buggies” the massive sign there changed from Merry Christmas to Scary Christmas.
Not the best shot in the world, but this was the man-eating wreath lunging for us from the ceiling in the dark hallway. Eeeeeek!
Here was a huge snake eating Jack Skellington’s Naughty and Nice list.
This was Jack’s swirly hill covered with snow and jack-o-lanterns in the graveyard. The pumpkins at the foot of the hill were singing “We Wish You A Scary Christmas”.
At the end of the ride, the boys gave it a thumbs up, but the adults in our group? Yeah, not so much. It wasn’t that the ride was frightening, as they had feared, but that (….wait for it….) they were offended by the Tim Burton-y transformation it had undergone. They all wished it had stayed untouched and looked just like they remembered it from their childhoods.
(Yeah, I know. I’m surprised Wednesday still talks to any of them too!)
Next, we took the little kids into Tarzan’s Treehouse.
Somewhere along the line, Wednesday found a JACK-o-lantern! (Ba da dum tish.)
And she turned Chip n’ Dale into Playboy Bunnies. Ha!
Back in New Orleans Square later that day, we ran into Jack Sparrow. Jack was a slippery swashbuckler, and was constantly swiping things from visitors, running around, refusing to stand still for pictures, and just generally being very pirate-y. Go figure.
See? Off he goes again!
The guy who played Jack Sparrow was awesome. AWE. SOME. He had the voice, the accent, the mannerisms and the attitude down pat.
He also had a crowd of people chasing him, begging him to pose for pictures, but would Jack oblige? No, me hearties, Jack would not. I admit it, I was one of the women chasing Jack that day. And—*sigh*—there are pictures to prove it too. See?
(Oh, shut up.)
I was trying to talk Jack into stopping his pillaging for two seconds to pose with me and Wednesday for our Christmas card picture. That’s it. I didn’t want much. But Jack wouldn’t do it. Nope. I tried flinging flattery at him and everything! I called him "Captain", so he called me "lass" in his nearly dead-on Johnny Depp-ish accent. I called him "sir", so he called me "saucy wench," swaggering and swaying drunkenly in his rock star pirate fashion and hypnotic Jason Castro-like dreads.
While chasing and tossing cheesy pirate-y lingo back and forth with Jack Sparrow was fun, eventually I gave up. With much bitterness and festering resentment, I might add. It would have been one fabulous Christmas card, people! Gah!
*grumble—stupid Jack Sparrow—grumble*
However, I should point out that I’m no longer mad at Captain Jack. You see, I later found out that Disneyland went all Donald Trump on the Jacks they employed in the park and fired them all in one fell swoop. (It was freaking Mickey Mouse Mutiny! Savvy?) So, why did Disneyland send their Jack Sparrows sailing across the well-charted waters of the unemployment office? Hmm? Simple. The wenches. The lasses. The yo-ho-ho-bags.
You see, it turned out, that there had been a big problem having Jack Sparrow in Disneyland: he was turning the chicks on, making the Happiest Place on Earth a tad too happy, ifyouknowwhatimean. Reportedly breasts were flashed. Breasts in Disneyland?! Mickey no likey. And that was the reason Jack Sparrow wouldn’t pose with anyone in the park, because he was under strict orders not to, lest any women might lose control. (ARGH!) But the don’t-stop-and-linger-with-the-lasses rule didn’t deter the breast-flashers, so Jack was booted from the park shortly after our trip there.
It’s a shame, really, because the Jack Sparrow we
But anyhow….
I was under strict orders from my Neurologist to avoid all the wild rides while at Disneyland due to the whole spinal trauma thingy, so my sister accompanied Wednesday on Splash Mountain for me.
(See Wednesday screaming near the back of the boat there? Soooooo funny!)
And what was I doing while Wednesday partook in all the wild rides?…. Why, lounging in one of the preschooler’s rented strollers, of course!
(See, I told you they come in handy!)
The one year old girl who was part of our group was pretty confused by this whole Disneyland thing. She had no idea where we were or what was going on and just kind of had this perplexed expression permanently plastered on her face the whole time. Wednesday and I felt kind of bad for her and decided to take her on The Many Adventures of Winnie The Pooh ride.
Wednesday and I had never been on the Pooh Bear ride before, but we figured surely it would be cute and baby-friendly because it was Winnie The Pooh, right? Umm…. no.
The ride was really freaky. The props were huge and painted neon, so they glowed in black lights. The music was loud and creepy and the whole experience was just…. wrong.
This is what the one year old looked like as we exited the Pooh Bear ride.
She was traumatized for life.
Clearly.
(Sorry, girly! I swear we didn’t know! Really!)
That night, Wednesday and I went off on our own and took several trips through the Haunted Mansion and Pirates of the Caribbean. This was a stellar plan…. until we boarded a virtually empty Pirates boat, which went rocketing down the waterfalls like…. well…. a rocket. I hadn’t realized how violent that ride could be in a nearly-weightless boat. On the second waterfall, I actually flew off my seat (there’s no seat belts, of course) and came crashing back down right on my spine on the rock-hard seat back.
Owie. :-(
Sheepishly imagining my Neurologist sitting me in the corner with a dunce cap, I decided I was done with rides for the rest of the night and should probably try to walk the pain off. So, Wednesday and I went hat shopping and she was delighted to find Mickey ears that looked like Jack Skellington….
….and these guys too!
(Sorry, I had to borrow those last two pictures from Google because I forgot to take my own in the stores. Oops.)
Then, with our snazzy new Mickey ears and Wednesday’s Jack Skellington doll, we walked back to our hotel.
[….to be continued soon…. where you’ll find me unintentionally sloshed like Jack Sparrow and making an *ss of myself in front of a dude dressed like a skeleton.]
© Coracabana
