Saturday night my husband and I headed over to the Happiest Place on Earth. It took us over an hour to get inside -- and we live 10 miles away.
We went to the Blue Bayou and were told they were not taking "Walk -ins." The hostess said it disdainfully, like we were road kill. Road kill that smelled like sewage.
So we shrugged it off and decided to head over to the Golden Vine Winery in CA Adventure. On our way there, we were able to walk on to Big Thunder Mountain Railroad. Woohoo! I love that ride.
Space Mountain was closed. Sigh.
At the Golden Vine, we were told, "Oh, we aren't taking walk ups right now. We will be soon though."
My husband, a model of tact and decorum, respectfully said, "Great. When do you think that will be?"
The hostess smiled at us vacantly and said, "Around 11."
It was currently 7 pm.
I wanted to eat at a sit down restaurant at Disneyland as a special treat - not grabbing food from the diaper bag or a push cart, the way we normally do. So I did what any mature 30 year old would do when she found out she wasn't going to get her way: I sulked.
I was in a total funk. My husband knew to leave well enough alone, and he steered me over to California Screamin'.
After that roller coaster, I was in a much better mood. After all, how can you be angry when you have just been hurtled through the air at speeds of 60 mph?
We decided to leave Disney and go to the Olive Garden. As we left Disneyland, we heard two loud bangs. Sighing, we pulled into a parking lot to check our tires, certain we had just had a blow out.
Nope. The loud bangs we heard were the Disneyland fireworks going off (we're dumb, okay?). So we sat in the parking lot and had a front row seat for this:
And then we went to Olive Garden.
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