Monday, March 23, 2009

Escape from Disneyland...fast pass from hell.



Critter and I somehow managed to escape the fracas we created when we (why do I say "we"... Critter did it, I just watched in total wonder) launched that little Vadar guy onto the steep west facing slope of the Matterhorn. For some reason, I thought he might land softly, figuring the Matterhorn to be built out of some top secret soft urethane product Disney developed for his park in conjunction with the Defense Department. Sadly for young Darth however, the Matterhorn is one of Disney's older rides and appears to be made out of good old fashioned drywall and wood. He landed hard, sharply cracking his Kmart Vadar lid. On the bright side, a passing Matterhorn roller coaster car shouted with unexpected glee, thinking they had lucked into some Disney/Lucas co-promotion with little Vadar as a temporary addition to the classic ride.

On a brief side note, Critter and I waited the 45 minutes to take the Matterhorn. The ride itself was thrilling, Critter comparing it to much quicker version of the "High Summer Berry Log Jam" the Bigfoot nation throws up in Oregon when they ride felled redwoods down the river. But for that brief moment when the coaster skirts below that white yeti in the middle of the mountain, I saw a quiet tear well in the thickness of his tranny mascara. I didn't say a word, just let the moment hang there as we both knew we had to get out of this place.

Anyway, we bolted, leaving Futureland for the rugged promise of Frontier land. Critter, now dressed as a well to do if not somewhat eccentric Asian transvestite and I, well, I guess I am the "guy" who takes Asian transvestites to Disneyland. Critter, still feeling slightly ill at ease, asked why people kept staring at him and pulling their children away. I was about to try and explain the concept behind "transvestite" when he added "I don't understand, I look pretty and more importantly, I feel pretty. what is the problem Matt?" I didn't have the heart to sink his battleship so I shrugged it off, claiming the average American does not yet understand exotic beauty.
Pausing for a moment to watch a family of 9 devour turkey legs the size of, well, themselves. They sat quietly, all of them pencil thin except for the Mother, who brought the family back to some sort of median national weight. He mused aloud "They remind me of that group, what were they called, oh ya, the Donner Party." I took a second look at the family and shuddered, realizing that on an evolutionary level, they were a notch away from that Donner group and also that it would probably take a lot less than being trapped in a frozen mountain pass to get them to eat each other. Yikes!

A moment. Please listen. Critter pointed to that log raft that leads to Tom Sawyer island. I nodded and we made away across the circle river to the island. Around us, small kids scampered with glee. Before I could say a word, Critter tore off, running through caves, crossing the crazy suspended bridge, ducking into secret passages with me quick after his heels. We ran and chased each other around the island, laughing like hysterical cockatoos, weaving our way around this artificial wilderness. Other kids joined, following our Asian transvestite disguised Bigfoot leader as he deftly blazed a trail across the island. We laughed, we forgot we were in the depths of Anaheim, we forgot we had parents who watched too much daytime TV, the teachers who scowled with a lifetime of regret, we forgot about the layer of brown air that wrapped itself around every dawn, and we left behind the fear of the neighborhood bullies and an uncertain future. We laughed and shared a moment, a dizzying line of young faces chasing each other around a rock. Critter and I were reminded it can still be beautiful sometimes when everyone forgets what they think they should think.

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