Thursday, March 27, 2008

Not enough liquor in the world

People, there are vacations, and there are family trips.

And I am tripping out.

I just spent two days in Disneyland at the greatest Disney hotel ever. It's so great that there isn't a Mickey or Minnie anywhere in sight, unless you aspire to the level of Disney geekitude enjoyed by our friend Joke and his wife.* It's just a beautiful hotel, done up in California bungalow style, all dark wood and mica lampshades. It's not my favorite style, but they did it very well.

But oh, my lord, the crowds in the parks. On Wednesday morning we got there before the park opened and yet there was an hour wait for the Finding Nemo ride. Which was, after skipping breakfast to hurry to the park, waiting in line to enter, dashing to the ride, getting detoured around the Mattahorn, and waiting in line for that hour--pretty lame.

We got Fast Passes for the Indiana Jones ride, and tried to find something to do in the park that didn't involve spending another hour waiting in line. We rode the paddle boat and visited Tom Sawyer's Island. We ate breakfast, too. We stuck it out bravely until about 11:30 and then bagged it. On the way out of the park we stopped by the Indiana Jones ride and I gave our Fast Passes to a party of four that was waiting in line to get some. It was 11:30 and they would have had to wait until 7:30 to get on that ride.

People, that is just plain crazy.

And can you believe the Disney people got $240 from us for two rides and a chance to explore a man-made island?

Me neither.

So anyway, now we're in Beverly Hills, staying at the Single Nicest Hotel I've Ever Been In In My Entire Life. The landscaping alone is a dream of beauty. The valet parking guys are wearing pink polo shirts. The room is huge, and the bathroom is, in the words of Toddy in Victor/Victoria, "a religious experience." The toiletries are scented with gardenia, and the labels look like they were designed by Dorothy Draper. It's incredible.

But my daughter is being such a pain that I want to go hide in the bathroom (where I would play with the remote control Austrian blinds on the window.)

Or drink heavily.

So guess which I'm doing?

* Yes, we know about the hidden Mickeys in the doormats, so shut up.


  1. Do we get to see photos of this magical bathroom?

  2. You know, the hidden Mickey thing? Just shits me.

  3. You know, the whole MICKEY THING? Just shits me.

    NOW you are on my kind of vacation.

  4. It really isn't warm enough, but get a cabana anyway so that you can say that you did.

    Even more unreal than Disneyland, if that is possible.

  5. You couldn't pay me enough to go to Disney.


Gentle Readers:

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xxx, Poppy.