And while my birth certificate may try to point out that I'm only twenty-five, my actions suggest that inside this young exterior, lies an irate geriatric soul. Like there's some pissed-off ninety-year-old woman lurking inside of me, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to jump out and cane you to death.
I'd like to think that if she were a real person she'd be named Bev and look like Estelle Getty.
"Fucking kids!" Bev screams, when I'm cut off in traffic by a Volkswagen Beetle whose stereo is pumping out Britney Spears’ Circus.
Bev trips unwieldy children who run through restaurants and stores without their parents.
She spits gum in the hair of people who have cut her in line and revs her engine when the person in front of her at the toll booth takes more than 5 seconds to count out their change.
She's a smart ass to people who are rude to her for no reason and throws half-sucked Sour Patch Kids at the chatty teenagers in movie theatres.
Bev's really kind of a bitch.
And I don't know how to silence her.
Monday was my brother's 20th birthday.
Disney's current promotion for Florida residents is a free ticket on your birthday. The catch: you have to go, like, ON your actual birthday. Not get the ticket and save it for a far more convenient day, like the weekend. But show up at 9 am on a rainy Monday morning when you should be at work.
But you know, free is free and Mickey Mouse is like a 4-year-old's crack. So the family went.
Stepping into the gates at Hollywood Studios, I was reminded of how much I HATE Disney crowds. I guess being a Florida native; I am less prone to the shock and awe of the whole experience. Whatever, though, I get it. It's a bit overwhelming and HOLY SHIT ITS CASEY THE POWER RANGER! Grab the camera Mom!
It was slightly sprinkling as we arrived; the black clouds leering from above were threatening to open up on us all. In a way though, we were fortunate. If you know Florida weather in March, we like to dip down into the 7th circle of Hell right about lunchtime, so the clouds, though menacing, were a nice reprieve.
Plus, do you really want to know what the armpits of 50 different countries smell like?
I didn't think so.
Brae is reaching the age (and height) where he can start riding some of the bigger rides. Like the Tower of Terror- a ride he entered enthusiastically and left a little...um, LESS than enthusiastically....
Ok, so he kinda hated it. And I kinda laughed. Because, even though he was warned about the drop- his face screwed up in the most fantastic combination of horror and shock I've ever seen. It was like his brain was bouncing back and forth.
FUN/HORRIBLE
GREAT/TORTURE
THRILLS/CHILLS
YAY!/OH MY GOD, SHE'S TRYING TO KILL ME!
In the end, his inner Bev won out and he declared that "NO. I DID NOT LIKE THAT RIDE AT ALL!” Which was too bad I think.
I’ve never enjoyed that ride more!
Apparently the “hot” ride at Hollywood Studios right now is the new Toy Story ride. We were over there fairly early to get a fast pass (you know- the butt-everyone-waiting-in-line-because-you-were-careful-and-planned-ahead-pass) and they were gone. Like, really GONE. Out for the entire day. And it was only 11 am.
So we waited- checking back intermittently throughout the day to see if the wait had decreased. But it remained a steady 2 hours. I was convinced we wouldn’t be able to ride it and was kind of bummed. Sure I wanted to see Beauty and the Beast. The Great Movie Ride was fun and the fake Indiana Jones was still hot. I had a park full of memories and reminiscing- but I wanted the new.
I had done fairly well containing myself throughout the day. No child was tripped and I refrained from walking through the park with my arms held out at my sides (I just don’t like my personal space invaded, okay?).
And then some bitch in Tigger ears stepped in front of me at the Muppets 3-D.
I was walking, holding Brae’s hand as he trailed behind me. The rush through the doors had just begun—you know that rush, the stampede of eager participants that happen once the doors are finally opened and you can sit down. Like everyone is terrified they won’t get a seat even though that goofy-looking kid standing at the door with the clicker in his hand had tracked every single person who shuffled through. You’re gonna get a seat, idiot.
We were at the entrance to a row of seats in the theater, our 3-D glasses already positioned on our face, when Tigger woman jumped in front of me. I didn’t see her coming and was sideswiped by her presence. She cast a quick look back at me and stopped, causing me to almost bounce off her stalled ass. My Bev flared up.
“Um, excuse me?” I said
“Yeh, if you could just hang on. C’mon over here, Daisy*, Boomer*. This way! C’mon ya’ll I got us some seats!
I looked back at my mother who was standing behind Brae.
“She’s not serious, right? Really? REALLY? SHE’S GOING TO CUT IN FRONT OF ALL OF US AND THEN INVITE HER FAMILY TO JOIN?!”
Just then a parade of ears pushed passed me, squeezing Brae and I into the back of the seats in front of us.
We walked down the aisle and of course I ended up in the seat beside her. I looked to my mom and sighed loudly, “I don’t get it. How is it that Disney attracts all these RUDE people. Do they recruit for them or something?”
Mom shook her head and laughed. Familiar with my passive aggressive tendencies, she said, “and you get to sit next to her,” just loud enough for Tigger Woman to hear.
Yeah, lucky me.
When really she's the lucky one-lucky I didn’t have any Sour Patch Kids.
The rest of the day was fairly uncomplicated. We decided that standing in line for Toy Story was necessary one hour before the park closed and HOO BOY! That ride is every bit as fun as it shouldn’t be for a 25-year-old.
In fact, I think I even heard Bev squeal.
*Der, I totally don’t remember what names she called her little human kittens. I do remember that I laid a curse on each and every one of them as they walked by me though.
1 comment:
I totally have an inner Bev too.
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