And Then We Went to Disneyland
We had to, since the reception for the wedding was at Club 33, the infamous private dining club tucked into New Orleans Square.
The place is very 19th Century Gentlemen’s Club, lots of dark wood, antiques, and overdressed staff, who were a bit curt, a stark contrast to the cheery demeanor of the rest of the cast members. It does afford some unique views of New Orleans Square, though.
The meal was excellent, with modest portions. Except for the soup, which for some reason was served in a miniature mug, barely two spoonfuls’ worth. We should have stayed by the machine that dispensed it, draining cup after cup, like parched desert refugees.
I also should have ordered a soda so I could have been given a nifty glowing toy car, like some spoiled babies I could name. Looking at you, Derek.
Most of the desserts were merely okay except for the chocolate domes, which are made of win. Wow. Presentation is everything at 33, however, so it all looked fantastic.
Everybody was stuffed, and ready for rides at the Happiest Place on Earth! Everyone!
But I didn’t count on the newlyweds treating the theme park side of things casually. That’s what happens with annual passes when you go every other week. We went on Pirates of the Caribbean, during which Alex texted her way through the gloom, and after that, they were pretty much done. By the way, when did they put the obnoxious parrot back?
The sun had set, and I wanted to check out California Adventure before it got too late.
I’d been advised that only three rides were worth it: Soarin’ Over California, the Tower of Terror, and the rollercoaster. Soarin’ didn’t look promising for a quick run.
Dud. Fail. Nearly an hour wait, and although thrilling, the ride lasts four or five minutes. I was less than whelmed. We got lucky at the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror, where a mom and her kids had to leave and gifted me with a FastPass ticket. The interiors were cool.
But although it was thrilling, this ride was even shorter, and if I’d waited the 55 minutes that was estimated for the line containing the unwashed masses, I’d have been ready to punch a faux bellboy.
We cut our losses and headed back to Disneyland for a couple of last-minute rides. The Finding Nemo Submarine Voyage was awful. I had hoped that the billions Disney rakes in every year would allow them to lavish appropriate levels of funding for updating their theme parks, but I enjoyed the chance to sit down better than anything outside my porthole. The best bit was the buoy floating near the entry line. The seagull animatronics atop it flick their heads back and forth and chant, “mine? mine?” every so often. Terrific.
I stood in line for a six dollar corn dog, bought a few presents for family, and we headed home, exhausted. I think I’ll just hang out and people-watch next time.
