Juliette Miranda

When you have just left the self proclaimed “happiest place on earth,” where phrases like “dreams come true” are chanted 794 times a day, only to return to a blast of Chicago’s soul sucking reality, there is really only one thing to think … “Crap.”

The shortcomings of the Midwest have become far more glaring in my little world, and all I can do is count the things this soon-to-be Winter Wasteland is lacking: palm trees, an orchestra of penguins, a clean and free transportation system, nightly fireworks, and a path of torch-lit walkways leading to a white sandy beach. I can’t even look out my bedroom window without noticing Cinderella’s Castle and the spires of Space Mountain missing from my view.

My guy is doing his best to make the transition to reality easier on us both, but five nights at Disney’s luxurious Polynesian Resort are hard to leave behind. That’s why I hope he won’t mind that I’ve enrolled him in a “towel art” class.

If he really cares about me, he’ll be thrilled, I’m sure, to make cute little animals out of rolled towels for me to discover upon returning home, just like our “mousekeeper” did at Disney every day. (Of course, considering the damage my red-enhancing color conditioner has done to the towels, the animals he makes may look slightly more akin to game or roadkill, but no matter. It’s the thought that counts.)

This obviously wasn’t my first trip to Disney, though it was my guy’s first “adult” trip. Not that we actually acted like adults, mind you, aside from all the beer, mai tai and mojito drinking. I’m not sure if it’s a well-kept secret or not that all the Disney theme parks (excluding the Magic Kingdom) serve alcohol in abundance, but it certainly shocked my guy to discover how easy it was to wander around with a heady buzz.

Alcohol may actually be a partial explanation as to how my guy managed to clock a Monsters, Inc. character.

The picture was my idea, admittedly, though I am by no means a crazed character chaser. If I could walk past Jack Nicholson in LA without so much as wanting a handshake, I think I can pass up a photo op with Pluto.

Still, certain Disney characters hold sentimental value, or are just so wacky that they tickle my sense of the absurd. Sully and Mike Wazowski from Monsters, Inc. fall into that latter category, which is exactly why I grabbed my guy by the hand to lead him into their photo room at Disney’s Hollywood Studios.

I assumed he went willingly. But as I was sucked into the hulking furball that is Sully for the picture, I saw from the corner of my eyes poor Mike Wazowski, a stocky green eyeball with legs, reeling backwards.

Click. Click.

“Sorry buddy,” my guy uttered to the staggering eyeball as the Disney Militia made their way toward him with scary speed. Sully, who seemed rather reluctant to release me from his overly friendly hug, pushed me in the general direction of the exit.

“What did you do?” I asked as we were not-so-magically urged from the room.

It turns out my guy gave new meaning to the concept of a reach around. Apparently, while in the process of putting his arm around Mike, my guy miscalculated the circumference of the eye and wound up jabbing the poor character in the “head” with his elbow. Needless to say, that was the last character greeting we attended.

Not that it stopped us from causing trouble elsewhere.

I have a suspicion we made several kids cry while waiting for the Honey, I Shrunk the Audience attraction. We were stuck in a “preshow”, which is Disney’s clever way of giving the illusion of movement when waiting in line. A queue of people is herded into what you think is the attraction, but turns out to really be a theatre showing commercials masquerading as an attraction-related movie.

This particular “preshow” was from Kodak (who is, I’m convinced, a heartbeat away from demanding top billing and insisting on a “Kodak Presents Walt Disney World” moniker). It was your standard tear-jerker about a little boy, his lost dog and five minutes of sappy memories captured on film. And what-do-ya-know, thanks to Kodak’s crystal clear images on the “find me before I wind up in the pound” signs, the mailman spots the lost dog and brings him home. Sniff.

Even I’m not entirely immune to sentimental claptrap, and was about to eek out a smile during the big dog-boy reunion when my guy leans over and says, “I bet that thing’s got rabies now. Look – it’s frothing at the mouth. Somebody better shoot it.”

My snorting laughter rang out louder than the swell of pulled heartstrings. Rude, yes, but completely uncontrollable, even after hearing hushed whispers of, “Nobody will shoot the dog,” from annoyed parents to their worried children.

We certainly left our mark on Disney World, from snarky comments at inopportune times, to kissing unabashedly on the Monorail (and perhaps a flashing or two), to eating and drinking our way through Epcot’s International Food & Wine Festival. I can easily say I’ve never had a better time, and my guy must agree because we’ve committed to making yearly returns to the most magical place we know.

That’s not to say we won’t be discovering new magical places in the meantime – we are in the midst of planning a trip to Europe – but the countdown is officially on again: 11 months and approximately 22 days until the next Walt Disney World trip.

I’m guessing it’ll take them that long to recover from our wake.

(Pics from Disney World and our prevacation to Las Vegas below. Click thumbnails for larger images.)