So, much to my dismay, after years and years of avoiding Disneyworld, for the sake of my children, who aren‘t spoiled enough, …we took the plunge!
And I’m sure it will come as quite a shock to you to learn… I don’t like rides, heights or anything that goes fast, drenches me in water or spins me round and round.
As I see it, you are just one loose bolt away from a devastating spinal column injury.
So as I said “no way” to each and every ride and sat on the bench with all the purses, hats and old people wearing Mickey ears, I started to rethink my position.
Of course, it didn’t help that within the first three hours of sitting on the benches, I had already been inappropriately touched by the likes of Goofy, Donald Duck and those two, odd, little chipmunks.
Therefore, as we approached the “Tower of Terror”, something inside me stirred.
I mean, its just an elevator that drops 20 stories. Surely it can’t be that bad and if I die - well at least my Disney nightmare would be over. As everyone started handing me their jackets and purses to get in line, I amazed them all when I said,
“I’m going to ride this one.”
And you would all be so proud of me.
Not once in that line, did I think of turning back.
Not once in that line, did I cry or scream out.
Not once in that line, did I bury my face in my 13 year old’s shoulder and yell out (repeatedly) “we are going to die!!”
Nope…I saved all of that for the ride from hell!
That’s right, it drops 20 floors - three different times - and each and every time, the doors swing open so that you can see your life flash before your eyes - before Disney kills you.
Needless to say, for the next three days, I sat on every bench the park had to offer and let those Disney characters have their way with me.
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