Fantasyland, Adventureland, & the Land of the Lotus Eaters

I write quite a bit on Facebook and I do this blog. I can write about anything that happens to me in a somewhat amusing way. That is what I like to do. If something happens, I like to find the words that make that event or moment sharable so someone else can enjoy it as I did.

Now, I just spent 6 days at Disneyworld, the Happiest Place on Earth, with my wife, three kids, and a sister and mother in law. If that set-up ain't a Seven Dwarves mine bursting with jewels of material, then I don't know what is. But I have nothing. Nada. I can recall dozens, maybe even hundreds of moments. I loved every single minute of our time there. But I don't really have anything to write about. The whole experience was too busy, too fun, and too....nice? I think it was something I ate.

Have you ever read The Odyssey? It is about Odysseus, trying to get back home to Ithaca.  But he's having trouble getting there. The gods are against him and keep throwing challenges in his way. One of those was a stop at the island of the Lotus Eaters.

When he and his men got to the Island of the Lotus Eaters, they didn't want to leave. The natives gave them the fruit of the lotus and it was so intoxicating that all they wanted to do was stay there and keep eating the fruit. Didn't want to go home. Didn't want to do nothing but enjoy that fruit. Mmmmmmm......louts. The original self medicators. Odysseus had to intervene, tell them that food is not love, and force them on their way. Odysseus had to drag them back to the ship to make them leave. Fruit always got those ancients in trouble.

The difference between us and those Greek travelers is that the Lotus Café was our destination rather than our downfall. That's Disney. I was a Louts Eater and loved it. Sure, people like to gripe about the heat, the crowds, the lines, and the mouse ears epidemic. Disney drugs you with nice-ness. Anything you need, happens. And there isn't always a price. They don't know if you're there for one day or if you spent $10,000 at one of their resorts. You need something, have a question, have a problem, I'll help you. If that person wasn't a help, just tell the next person you deal with and that one will stay with you until the problem is solved. They make you happy like they're rubbing the belly of a crocodile. And I just lay back, relax my legs and tail, and go with it. Rub away.

Of course, money runs out and I have to return to real life. It is 10 o'clock on Monday night in Central New York and I just want to be back there. All I can think is that someone else is in room 3069 enjoying my bed, admiring the hand towel folded like the animal de'jour. That some B' is in my pool. The sand bottomed pool. Oh, he's flying down the 50 foot waterslide, smacking the water and as he stands up,  that thick sand is massaging his feet as he walks to the stairs for another go around. He's eating that sandwich I love at Epcot's Morroco pavillion and gazing at the Koutoubia Mosque. That guy is on Splash Mountain, in his log, clicking up the last hill watching Br'er Rabbit squirm in Br'er Fox's clutches. As his log crests the top he gets that view of the Magic Kingdom with the Electric Light Parade moving through Adventureland and straight ahead in the distance is a glimpse of the illuminated Sleeping Beauty's castle. Then the plunge into splashy darkness. I should be there. But, no. He's closing the park. I'm supposed to be that guy.

They don't kick you out of the Magic Kingdom, but if you hang out long enough after closing time, a group of employees will line up in a sort of Red Rover line. In a very friendly, matter of fact way they'll be there, pretending like they don't see you. But they are moving forward as you move forward. There's no going back. I swear, they're working for Odysseus.