And On The Seventh Day

And On The Seventh Day…

Sundays begin the same all over the world. I’m just sure of it. Even atheists (or, as my Dad liked to call them, the monkey boys) must observe a day of rest. Also, whether one’s Sunday is actually a Tuesday or Thursday is irrelevant. Sunday is more of an idea than an actual day. Instituted by God and carried out by his creations, Sunday is a brilliant idea. A day devoted to the loftiest of ideals: reflection and gratitude. Sunday is THE day to ask one’s self those plaguing questions regarding life and its meaning. It’s also the day to enjoy a hearty meal and an afternoon siesta. Hell, I think cats observe Sunday every day. And it always begins the same: with sleep. Even the most hardworking man enjoys a couple extra hours of sleep, just enough to maintain a good temperament for the holiest of days.

So, rather unsurprisingly, my family began Sunday by indulging its sleeping habits. However, with one notable exception: My big brother Scott opted to escape the confines of his apartment early in order to wake everyone here at my house so we could all head over to the mother of all corporations disguised as family fun, Disney World. We are basically a hop, skip, and a jump (albeit, a long one) from the cult’s, whoops; I meant Mickey’s, headquarters. Despite objecting to the early rising, there were no arguments from anybody. A day at Disney World is akin to a Sunday drive for us: nothing but fun and the chance to gawk at silly strangers.

Anyhow, we set out for the World with a goal that sounded simple enough. We would foray into a couple of the theme parks and finish out the day at Epcot. The Lord of the Dance event was happening there and Mother loves that sort of thing. We would also be able to see the Millennium fireworks spectacle. Going to more than one park was a daunting prospect, but not impossible. You could chalk it up to everyone’s desire to really get some mileage out of those annual passes. Here are a few highlights of the day:

As usual, we started out at Animal Kingdom. The park was quite literally a human zoo, people coming and going everywhere. In fact, I never saw it that busy before. We ambled about for some time, having missed the Tarzan Rocks show. That’s J.R.’s favorite. We eventually found ourselves in front of the Dinosaur ride. This attraction used to have the foreboding name, Countdown To Extinction. Now it is the more glamorous and diva-like, Dinosaur. I do not agree with the Imagineers on that one. Heather, J.R., Mikey, and myself opted for the ride. It was either that or a heatstroke. Let me just say right now that my sister, Heather, thinks she knows everything. If she doesn’t know the desired information, it is simply not worth knowing. So, when she said that this ride was similar to the Star Tours at MGM, I believed her. She could not have been more wrong. Perhaps because I was expecting a completely different ride, I ended up clutching Mikey’s arm in an Oh-my-God-it’s-Godzilla manner. I don’t think I would have been that scared if I knew for certain what the ride was like. First of all, it was pitch black most of the time. When I could see something, it was a huge T-Rex’s face right in mine. I was right next to the door on the left, so all the dinosaurs leered right to me it seemed like. I would have liked Dinosaur if I was in the middle of the vehicle. Everybody else loved it. Even J.R., but he was cuddled up next to his mama. My mama was too busy having a cancer stick- I mean, cigarette. Next time, I am sitting in the middle.

Nobody really made fun of me for being such a baby; we all have rides that we are wary about. Scott will not set foot on Tower of Terror. Which really doesn’t make any sense because he has been on it twice! Heather won’t go on Slush Gusher or Summit Plummet because she says she doesn’t want to die quite yet. I went on Slush Gusher but I haven’t worked up enough nerve to plummet down that monstrosity of a slide that Mike loves dearly. Mikey is not afraid of any ride except for Splash Mountain. He flat out refuses to venture off to the Laughing Place. He fails to see the danger in using his own body as a missile hurtling down a watery slide, but sitting in a fake wooden log while watching bears and rabbits sing and dance is going too far. Actually, it’s that last drop that worries him. I tried to tell him that it’s over before you know it, but he doesn’t believe me. J.R. won’t go on Splash Mountain either. He took one look at that last drop and just walked away. He’s the strong, silent type. Kate is not afraid of anything. She would go on Tower of Terror if she were tall enough. That’s why we call her a thrill seeker. On the opposite end of the scale is Mother. She almost didn’t make it on the Winnie the Pooh attraction because she was fearful of God knows what. She had a conniption fit on the Spanish It’s A Small World ride at Epcot. She actually jumped out of the boat and demanded that a cast member show her out of the attraction. No, I’m kidding. Mother will only go on a handful of rides though.

We made our way to Epcot in time to see the last showing of the Lord of the Dance. All around us, storm clouds were gathering, both physically and mentally. The rain began to sprinkle around Mexico. Our group fell apart with the disappearance of Mother. She went somewhere to have a cigarette while the rest of us took a trip on It’s A Small World. This is one of Kate’s favorites. She enjoys the little dolls with a girlish enthusiasm that belies her devilish nature. One minute she’s saying, “Look at the pretty, pretty baby dolls!” The next minute she’s saying, “Goddammit, I want to go on it again!” I can’t help but laugh when she says bad words. Hey, I’m not her mother. Blame Heather, I say. Anyhow, we lost Gerty and the sprinkling rains were showing signs of developing into a healthy shower. Leaving Kate with me, Heather set out to locate the old curmudgeon. The second she walked out of my sight, Mother walked into it. After I scolded her for wandering away, (What if we weren’t able to find you? How do you think you’d feel going up to a cast member and saying, “Help me, I’ve lost my family,” when you are 52 years old???) I began to look around for Heather. The boys had already meandered away, thus destroying the remnants of our group. Frustration rose accordingly and it wasn’t long before the good humor which was prevalent most of the day dissipated with the steam rising from the humidity and rain. Tired of carrying Kate and trying to explain thunder to her, I handed her off to Mother and took a peek outside. Surprisingly, the rain was lightening. That was a relief. The thought of walking around Disney in the pouring rain was a dismal one, to say the least. Unlike the distancing storm clouds, we all came together within the next ten minutes or so.

The Lord of the Dance show was held at the American Amphitheater. The return of good weather was not going as smoothly as I originally thought. Florida is home to the most temperamental of environmental conditions and once again, proved unpredictable. By the time we secured a place in the lengthy line to enter the amphitheater, the clouds were back with a darkened menace. We had advanced a mere ten feet or so when the heavens opened and water poured on us as if from an overflowing bucket. A cast member magically appeared, selling $10 umbrellas and ponchos. We could barely see him through the downpour; that’s how bad it was. Scotty bit the bullet and purchased an umbrella. The kids had to be given some kind of shelter. Kate was uncharacteristically speechless with horror. She could not believe that she, Kate Bontullo, was being rained on. It was just too much for her to accept. J.R., hiding underneath a large canvas table umbrella several feet from us, was undoubtedly silently cursing someone. Probably Number 2, which is what we affectionately call Donald Duck. Nobody wanted to lose our place in line so we decided to ride it out. No one thought that downpour could last. We were wrong. We moved up another 20-30 feet or so, completely drenched.

Everyone was already on his last nerve, so a potential familial knockdown brawl was seemingly inevitable. I’m not sure how we avoided it. It could have been the hilarity of the situation. Here we were, grouped with dozens of strangers in the torrential rain, to see an Irishman dance around. The only thing keeping us out there was the knowledge that Mother really wanted to see this spectacle; the dancing Irishman, not the soaked line of strangers. With the rain refusing to let up, the situation became even more hysterical. Some people were laughing and jumping in puddles. Others were stonily silent. The rest were plotting a way to obtain some free tickets from the Mouse. We were cracking jokes left and right. There was so much comedic relief from the rain in the people around us. That sounds terrible, I know, but it’s true. We saw a young girl (maybe 10 or 12) who was a little on the plump side. She was dressed all in white and had not bothered to wear panties! Yes, it’s horrible to make fun of others. But I am damn sure that we were a sight to behold as well.

Kate, recovered from her initial shock, was giving the squall a run for its money. She yelled with the fervor of the thunder rolling in. She kicked and shoved with the ferocity of the pelting raindrops. Kate had no use for this sort of behavior; she just wanted to have a Disney Day, for Christ’s sake (her words, not mine). It took a few minutes to calm her down and explain how she was safe under the umbrella. All of us clumped together, vying for a spot under the Mickey-emblazoned shield. My back was dripping wet. I had worn my Birkenstocks (Jesus’ shoes, as Pop would say) and my feet kept slipping around in them. I finally took them off and carried them. With the exception of the kids, we were soaked to the bone. And the damn line had stopped moving. Our position was a couple hundred feet from the entrance to the theater. We could see that people were being seated in the first few rows. Yet, the line did not budge. A cast member explained that these people had bought a dinner package that included these choice seats to watch a dancing Irishman. Some people wondered aloud about why we were not being seated as well. Others were still complaining loudly in a lame attempt to be given free tickets.

None of us were certain if there was a roof over the rest of the amphitheater. The novelty of standing in the rain was beginning to wear off and in its place was an anxious desire to move indoors. Scotty was on the verge of calling it quits when the line began to move. It didn’t stop after that. The amphitheater was not covered beyond the seats that the dinner packaged ass kissers (don’t mind that, it’s just the rained out me talking) were occupying. The rain had lessoned to a steady drip that made sitting in the unsheltered benches viable for some people in the line. We opted to stand under the arch. The trees obstructed some aspects of the stage, but we could see most of it. The rain was continually lessoning, but Scotty wasn’t in the mood for any more surprises. He bought rain ponchos for all of us at the store across the thoroughfare while we settled in.

A few men on the stage were toweling dry the area for the dancing Irishman. There was some cause for concern; no one wanted to see any of the dancers fall. Well, except for me. My high spirits nose-dived when I realized we had to stand for the whole performance. I started to feel better though when the thing actually started. The dancing Irishman was clearly entertaining Mother and many other people standing about. So I watched it and actually started to like it. Maybe it is the Irish blood in me. You had to respect the troupe for coming and giving that performance when slipping on a wet stage was possible.

Putting up that fight with the thunderstorm had worn Kate out. She fell asleep on my shoulder after staring entranced by a couple of the dancers for several minutes. By the end of the show, the clouds had parted and you could see the sun, albeit dimly. Everyone was feeling better by then, even though we still shivering wet. After a quick conference, we agreed to skip the fireworks. We could always come back another time.

Needless to say, we did not run the air conditioning during the ride home.