down on main street

To quote a dear friend's mother, "Oh, honey, there's no recession at Disney". My heart is full, my wallet's empty and the girls have not stopped smiling since our return home from Walt Disney World. It was a sweet ride, full of giggles and song and roughly two bottles of hand sanitizer. One that was shared between dear friends..the tall red-haired human kind, and of course, the ones with whiskers, manes and tails. Being awash in all things Mickey was at times just a wee bit overwhelming but I savored every last memory and will hold it dearly for years and years to come. Uncle Greg showed us the best time ever. Leave it to a gay man to do Disney up right and to the max.

We began our trip by soaring toward the Florida sky to visit the girlies Amma and Afi (that's grandma and grandpa to you people). Then off we went, in style, cruising into the town of wonder in the very front of the monorail, thank you very much. Who knew, Big Red had such connections? The morning welcome was alive with dance and confetti and the look on W.'s face when she saw Cinderella's Castle for the very first time was priceless. Well, I guess I shouldn't go that far as the only thing that was actually free was a drink of water from the fountain in Frontier Land. Anything else, get out your purses, folks. But if you hang tough, and dig down deep through all the commercialism, movie promotion and 100 dollar princess dresses..you'll find your magic. You will find it indeed. Or in my case, you can really save some dough and create your very own super-saver magic by packing the kid's frayed, ketchup-stained, Wal-Mart Sleeping Beauty specials that they wore through the park gates every single day...much to the horror and dismay of my Helmut Lang'ed pal. The castle was sparkling with a mind-blowing quarter of a million lights, changing color every couple minutes or so. It was SO worth the price of admission...just absolutely stunning and left this ole gal amazed and misty. The night sky was ablaze in the most gorgeous fireworks ever and seeing Tinker Bell, all lime greened, with wings electric, sailing off the top of the most famous building in the world, flying over the heads of all the wide-eyed kiddos...well, what can Mama say? It was a wonder to behold. If that high wire would have snapped though..talk about reparation and damaged psyches! Yep, you won't find me going to Disney Land in L.A. again. That place is like Dogpatch compared to this 30,000 acre resort.

Oh, yes....but for every sweet and wondrous dream, there's always a nightmare thrown in..like the rain-storm type of REM shaker-upper that poured buckets down our backs for two straight hours...tree limbs a flying, ripped raincoats flapping in the wind, drenched, wailing children in levitating strollers screaming for their daddies. Let me put it this way. It was a Kingdom alright but it wasn't so magic that particular afternoon. Greg wimped out on me that day, having to snuggle up to his laptop to work..leaving Mama Mags to venture out to the Animal Kingdom with the munchkins all by her lonesome. Teeth chattering, armed with only a soaked box of Triskets and my hemorrhaging master card, the three of us Mags swam our way through the park. Thank goodness, his mother, who also happened to be visiting, had the mousy foresight and weather savvy to slip me two rain ponchos before our adventure that day. Me, being the selfless mother I am, cloaked my sopping toe heads in them, leaving myself to water log and limp my way through the Tree of Life. And it proved itself to be just that as it was the only place in the park that had warm air blowing from over head. I could have sat there and watched A Bug's Life 3-D show for the next three days if it wasn't for the two-ton guy in a Goofy hat that was lumbering his way over me toward the exit. But exit, we did...and onward, we soldiered, back out into the nasty wetness. I wasn't about to give up and give in though. And I sure as hell wasn't going to pay Disney 22 bucks for a plastic hood. W. asked me if I thought it best that we return to the hotel, but I assured her that if Jiminy could weather a storm in only his top hat and conscious, then we girls could do it! Besides, when ya spend that much dough on tickets, it would have taken an F4 to get me outta there.

I found out the next day, from the monorail conductor, that a tornado touched down just outside of where we were. Who knew Oz was so close to Disney? The sun eventually peeked it's way through the clouds, somewhat, and we were able to endure a few more hours of fun and frivolity, albeit rather chilly ones spent in a soaking wet bra and fogged up glasses. Don't ask me about that one special hour we spent after closing..walking around the parking lot...my two little ducks waddling behind me, trying in vain to find our hotel shuttle bus, in the end having to make a teary, shivering call to Uncle G. to leave his warm hotel room and 18 dollar Caesar salad and drive over to rescue the three of us. I've never been one who has any sort of sense of direction and it proved itself twofold that day. "Aisles 1 through 6, Miss, Aisles 1 through 6", were the only icy words that our hotel's front desk gal could tell me when I called her for some guidance and just a little bit o' Disney compassion. Oh, yeah, I forgot. I chose not to listen to Gregorio and booked us at a budget non-Disney property. Lesson learned, my friend, lesson learned. All the meanwhile, T-Mag is holding onto her rump, if you can picture it..howling, "I gotta poop, Mommy..I gotta poop! It's coming out!" Good times. My girlies were little amusement park troupers though and kept fudg.., er..I mean, trudging ahead across the sea of wet pavement. In the end, their bravery garnered them two darling Tinker pins from one of the nice security guards, while their mom got nothing but a mean case of jungle foot rot. Oh, well, pretty appropriate for the Animal Kingdom, I guess. Greg came close to calling CPS on the way back to the Best Western but refrained and got us Taco Bell instead.

Our Florida follies continued to unfold and we had the pleasure of meeting up one morning with Greg's family in their lovely suite, joining them for a yummy breakfast at one of Disney's beautiful lakeside hotels. It was nice to see how the other half lives. Particularly, the other half that's able to take a magical ferry ride to the park while the rest of us schlubs hold tight to the shuttle pole, keeping our snoots away from a bunch of arm pits. Next up, was Hollywood Studios..right up my alley. All the glitz and glam of movie land kept all us actor-types enthralled..including the story of ole Walt himself, "One Man's Dream, A Stay-At-Home Mom's Bankruptcy". Yes, it was a fast and furious four day trek across Orlando. Surprisingly, we were able to do all four parks during our stay. I think I set a family record for all that we saw, we did, we lived..in the short amount of time we had there. Big Red said, 'that I deserved that coveted, behind-the-glass Oscar for my ability to squeeze the very last nickel out of admission!" He also told me, proclaiming with Florida resident expertise, that the first week of December was the very best and slowest time of year to visit. He lied, big time, on that part. The after dark Spectacle of Dancing Lights on the "streets of New York" was fab. Our eyes didn't know where to look, it was so incredibly twinkly and festive. However, the 90 thousand bodies that were pressed against mine; also enjoying the twinkly festivities was something this old claustrophobe sure could have done without. And the Fantasmic Arena show was simply mah-velous, darlings! All of Disney's characters were in full swing..as we sat back and enjoyed another j'adorable dancing, fireworked, fountain-spewing extravaganza with Baloo shakin' his money maker and my personal fave, Ursula!

Epcot got a swifter run through than I would have liked, but that's what happens when you have four aching middle-aged feet, two gasoline strength Patron margaritas and 38 degree weather. Ahhh, Florida..normally sun and shorts, but for us- mufflers and gloves. Uncle Greg was so very kind to even allow Mama to have a glorious 30 minute moment alone..to ride something just for herself while he took the youngins to a Discovery Pavilion Fire Safety course. It was there he learned two things about my girls. They both couldn't care less about a shiny, red fire truck and in the case there's ever a scorcher at the Mag's residence, W. will leave her sister to fry in about two seconds flat. The very last night of our trip ended with a 50 piece orchestra and mass choir Candlelight Christmas show, on an outdoor stage by the lake...truly wonderful. The girls were all cuddled up in our arms with their tummies full of cocoa, the holiday trees softly glowing...the joy was palpable. The refrains of Hallelujah were echoing through the World Showcase as we made our way out of the park and back into the real world. Thanks again, Greg, for being my friend, making me laugh beyond measure, and especially for loving my babies and bringing their dreams to life.