Disney Days, Part 2: I'll Never Love Again

Nate signing in again. Welcome to the second and third days of my recent trip to Disney World: a time filled with magic, romance, and gnawing, aching bitterness. Let's begin, shall we?

On Day 2, we visited the Animal Kingdom, where we had to fend off a series of wild critters, starting with Goofy, who was seriously contemplating whether to steal the breakfast that the chef individually prepared just for me, because of my peanut allergy. All I know is, if Goofy goes through with his insidious plan, and I have to grab pancakes off the buffet that might have been touched by peanuts, then Goofy had better know how to use an Epi-Pen. And also have a good lawyer.

"Gee, Papa Elephant. There's another one of those safari trucks."
"That's right, son."
"Looks a lot like the other 23 that have passed this way in the last hour."
"Yup."
"Following the same route as all the others, too."
"Uh-huh."
"Kinda strange that they'd all follow the exact same path, out here in the open plains of Africa, huh?"
"Um, we need to talk, son."

OK, so the safari was pretty cool. But frankly, the rest of the day at Animal Kingdom was one missed opportunity after another: a missed show here, a way-too-long line there, Dad Fast-Passing the wrong ride over there, you get the picture. Yeah, we got to see the Lion King show, the Pocahontas show, the 3D bug thing inside the giant tree, even a dinosaur ride that ripped off Dumbo even more blatantly than the Aladdin ride. But the highlight of my day was probably this dino-themed play area. Not because it had a slide, mind you, but because the slide had stairs. I love stairs.

Did I mention Pocahontas? She came out, along with some real woodland creatures and a fake-looking talking tree, to tell all the kids about how people who cut down trees and destroy green places for their own purposes are selfish and evil and have no souls. Except, apparently, the Walt Disney Corporation. I guess those countless miles of pristine Florida wetlands had it coming.

OK, now we're talking. We had dinner at the Grand Floridian resort with Cinderella's crew, and let me tell you, C-Rel was into me. I got her autograph in my little book, and though I can't read yet, I'm pretty sure she wrote down her number. Now if I can only ditch the 'rents tonight, it's a magical castle of good times for me.

Look at this pathetic loser. He thinks he's going home with C-Rel tonight. I told him his little royal hottie only digs guys with Pooh bibs and marinara all over their face, but he just smiled and nodded vacuously. I don't think he understood me. Must be all the royal inbreeding. I got his autograph too, but just to make him go away.

OK, so the date didn't go well. Turns out C-Ho left with that royal pain after all. That's all right, though. I found solace the following morning, eating breakfast at the Magic Kingdom with the gang from the Hundred Acre Wood. Eeyore was my favorite. Have you noticed he's a little pissy about life in general? I didn't mind. I found him refreshingly frank. We just shot the breeze for a while, ragging on faithless princesses and sighing mournfully. Then he left for another table. I'm tellin' ya, Eeyore's the man. I mean, the donkey. I think.

 

Near the entrance to the Magic Kingdom, they had set up a spot where you could have your picture taken with Santa. Only, Santa was never there whenever we passed by -- just a sign saying he had gone to feed his reindeer. I'm not sure how they made the big flight after eating so much. Gastric bypass, maybe. Anyway, I wanted to sit in the chair, so in place of Santa, I had my picture taken with Dad. Seven or eight years from now, I will find this delightfully ironic.

Later that night, we returned to the Magic Kingdom, where I got to ride the race cars with Mom. We loaded up, pulled out, did one lap, and then had to pit again. I told Mom we should have changed all four tires.

 

Look at her. Just look at her. I'm totally enjoying the SpectroMagic parade, and then look who has to roll up, all hoity-toity and waving from her friggin' pumpkinmobile. Oh, look! It's not even midnight, and she's already changed back into a skanky, heartless tramp! Not that I'm bitter.

No, there weren't any fireworks between me and the princess. But we all got to see some pretty neat ones later on over the little harlot's castle. Too bad her bedroom didn't catch fire. I'd like to add that Mom and I enjoyed the show more than Dad, who spent way too much time sprawled on the ground, trying to take artsy photos. Dad, if I find out that the princess ditched me because you're too embarrassing to be around, I swear, I'll grab your nose. Harder than I already do, anyway.

What a day. I need a cold shower.