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Another Pineapple, Please

Just so you know, I do not think it is possible for last night to have gone any better. I had a wonderful time, and his mom invited me to go swimming at their house this summer! I do love when I end up being nervous for absolutely no reason.

Today in the news, I discovered that not only has the $20 bill been re-colored, there are stamps and a five-pound-coin being issued covered with the picture of Prince William (I cannot even imagine how many jokes there are going to be made re: licking and those stamps), but DisneyWorld. DisneyWorld, people. They are having a SALE.

Seven nights. Unlimited passes to everything. $499. This summer. Holy Jumping Cow.

DisneyWorld was the site of my very first day of independence. I was 12, maybe 13 years old. It had been raining all morning, and having exhausted the fun possibilities of a Continental Breakfast, somehow I managed to talk my mom into letting me take the video camera and wander Epcot Center on my own.

I spent the day running past markers reading "It is a fifteen minute wait from THIS POINT," as everyone else had been scared inside by the rain. I even went on one ride three times in a row, in a span of about 10 minutes. I saw all the exhibits, I ran around the Countries of the World. I had my first meal in restaurant (The Rose and Crown) by myself: Scotch Eggs, a raspberry fool, and a Coke. I left my very nice and very indulgent waitress a 50% tip (on a ten-dollar check), which earned me a lecture from my mother on the virtues of not wasting money later that night. I ate French pastries. I saw Captain EO. Twice. And then I rode the monorail in circles for an hour, taking pictures out of the window. At the time, it was a great day; in retrospect, it was one of the primary defining moments of my life.

I could go again. I could go to DisneyWorld, and ride all the rides I missed last time. I could go on waterslides and rollercoasters and go dancing on Pleasure Island. And when I got tired, I could go to my hotel, sit in the sun, and ask someone to bring me an alcohol-filled pineapple. And they would.

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on May 13, 2003 3:41 PM.

The previous post in this blog was "Sarcophagi Are Smiling...".

The next post in this blog is Part One: Snub.

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