Keep Calm and Carry a Poncho

Woah, baby. Why didn't someone tell me that it's best to attend Disney Boot Camp before spending any time at DisneyWorld in Orlando, Florida? Screaming kids, their demented parents, the heat, the humidity and mice called Mickey everywhere.  It's hard work and needs to be trained for, or else you will likely catastrophically injure yourself and/or potentially lose your mind.

Soarin'!

It turns out that I have the patience of people who work with the stupid public for a living.  The place is packed full of Muggles, and I've only wanted to slam people into a wall on a few occasions.

The targets of my mental anguish are mostly American.  I don't, however, think patience is a virtue.  I think hurrying the fuck up and getting out of my way is definitely something to aim for when walking in my vicinity.

Lucky for my fellow Disney goers that the walls at Disney aren't really walls at all; they are generally just a figment of your rapidly deteriorating brain as it grapples with dehydration, one of the early symptoms of the Disney psychosis.

We've been here a few days now and have a routine.  My travelling buddy - who shall not be named because she's scared someone will break into her home in Australia and overwater her plants or dust her shelves or something - love riding Soarin', a five minute simulated hang glider tour of California. 

We love it so much that we get up very early, most days, so we can ride it before the big queues and then we get a fastpass for another go.  A fastpass sort of saves your place in line while you enjoy other attractions in the park, and there are only a limited number given out throughout the day so you have to be quick and organised and efficient and all the things you don't really care to be during your vacay.

Soarin' is the feature attraction at Epcot in DisneyWorld, and we have also been enjoying the caramel treats in Germany in the World Showcase.  If I didn't have travel brain it would have occurred to me this morning that I probably wouldn't usually want to eat a metre squared of caramel topped with milk chocolate. Yeah, that plan shouldn't backfire at all.  Engage brain before eating Disneycrap.

Another thing I am struggling with in Disneytown is sensory overstimulation, so I can't imagine how kids cope with it.  During the evening, especially, there is so much going on and flashing and noise everywhere and bright lights and water splashing and the screaming from rides and screaming from babies and even more screaming from their parents.  It's fucking crazy.  I think the adults are the big ones, but I'm not really sure.

I'm heading to New York City in a few days, which means I'll have to think about more than what I want for breakfast and which rides to entertain myself with.  You don't really have to think at Disney; they shuttle you everywhere if you are staying in the inner circle.

Everything is measured in minutes at Disney.  How long you have to wait for a ride, how far to get here, how far away is the exit, how long do we have to wait until the next fucking shuttle bus.  And Disney minutes are like laundromat minutes, in that they lie, and they take forever to click over.  It's that special magic of Disney.

You are constantly in a holding pattern when you are waiting in queues for rides and they make you weave around and around and fool you into thinking you are actively engaging in pointless interactive games on the walls in the hope that you will momentarily forget that they are stealing an hour of your life for a two minute theme park ride.

And then there's the merchandise. Last week at Universal Studios I bought a hat emblazoned with the theme park logo, because fucking Qantas lost my luggage and I wasn't going to hang out in the hurricane / sunshine state of Florida without sun protection.

And now, since docking at Disney, two security guards, a ferry captain and a Disney character have commented on my hat and its lack of Disney identification.  But I ain't getting one, because too much choice is a prison.  It doesn't help that my rain poncho - built to survive a violent hurricane - is also Universal merchandise.  It's anyone's guess how we haven't been evicted from Disney.

The toilets are called restrooms, but there is no time for rest in there.  The good part is you get to cover your seat with a paper toilet seat cover which you flush down the toilet, providing it doesn't stick to the back of your legs in a half flush reverse pike move.  And even though it only has one job to do, the hotel loo doesn't flush by itself, so you have to hold the lever until the bitter end.  I thought you needed to know that.