ALLEZ A DISNEYLAND!
I always find it funny when people - and let's be specific here, adults - go to Disneyland to celebrate a victory…or I suppose in some cases, a recovery. Let’s just say it has become a bit of a spoof of itself when it comes to being the celebration destination. Cut to some linebacker when he’s just won the Superbowl and John Madden (for you English, think Gary Lineker but older and fatter) asks him, ‘so now what are you going to do?’ ‘Well John, “I’m going to Disneyland!’ My first thought always is, haven’t any of these people heard of Paris? Not to be a snob or anything, but when I want to celebrate in grand fashion, I don’t think about going to a crowded theme park where I’m forced to wait in hour long lines, eat bad food for ten times the price, and spin around in a tea cup until I puke.
That said, I suppose a trip on Space Mountain followed by a churro isn’t the worst way to spend an afternoon. And have you seen the lines around the Eiffel Tower these days? Not to mention the eight dollar cappuccino and cheesy tower replicas they try to sell you as you're waiting. Oh mon dieu, Paris...Disneyland...it's almost one in the same.
My sister and I used to love Pirates of the Caribbean. Hands down, the best ride in any amusement park out there. I’m not sure if it is the mood set by the dark dank tunnels with those little chirping fireflies, or the drunk pirate puppets laughing in your face as you float by, but even to do this day when I’m on that ride I get giddy. I suppose what Disneyland has that Paris doesn’t – aside from incredibly large people wearing T-shirts that usually say witty things like, 'burp if you love Jesus;' sorry but it’s true, the French are just annoyingly thin and stylish – is the nostalgia factor. One just can’t help but revert back to their childhood when you’re skipping down main street. You step thru those gates, eye Donald Duck waddling around with Goofy (Goofy always struck me as the one who got the joke), see those balloons in the shape of Mickey Mouse’s head and suddenly you find yourself in the gift shop buying up half the stuffed animal section. I suppose it is the one place where Peter Pan complexes are not only allowed, but they are encouraged. Maybe their motto should be, ‘come, get hopped up on sugar and act like a six year old. It’s okay.’
In fact, in a few more weeks I think the King will be big enough (at least in size) to go on most of the rides at Disneyland. However, if he’s anything like his mother, he’s not going to want to get stuck in the kiddie section going in circles on some flying elephant when there is the Matterhorn to consider. So what if he can’t sit up yet, that’s what seatbelts are for. I’m thinking a tub of popcorn and a mach four whirl around a rollercoaster will definitely fix his sleeping issues. Get ready sweetheart, we’re going to Disneyland!