Disney Woke
Pirate Press August 2021
It has only been 14 months since we last went to Disney World, but it may as well have been a hundred years for all that has changed post-COVID. We left during the first week of February 2020, that tenuous time when global air travel was suddenly suspended and the virus was declared a public health emergency. A month later, Disney World was closed indefinitely, marking only the seventh time in it's 50 years of operation, that such an occurrence has happened. Analysts estimated that shuttering the theme parks and properties was responsible for global losses of roughly $30 million per day magnifying just how much of a revenue generator they truly are.
The week we were there in 2020 was a harbinger of the coming epidemic, with abnormally cold temperatures and miserable rain. Florida is known as "The Sunshine State" but we got none of that as COVID cast its long, sinister shadow.
Fortunately, the weather prediction for our 2021 Easter trip was a lot better. With vaccinations mounting, state's loosening lock downs and public confidence soaring, we figured Spring Break might be our last chance to visit Disney before the hordes of post-pandemic travelers arrived with a vengeance. But prior to embarking on the 1,000-mile round trip, I dropped off Amanda's 2015 Santa Fe at the dealer to address an annoying shudder under braking. It turned out that a caliper was seizing intermittently and had worn down the pad and rotor. I coughed up the $650 to replace both front pads and rotors as well as the caliper, but there was the lingering issue of the tires. Unbelievably, they were the original factory set and had 113,000 miles on them. I possessed no practical explanation as to how they lasted that long, other than being filled with nitrogen and rotated every 10,000 miles. I was loathe to part with them since they still had another 10,000 under their steel belts, but realistically it was the best time to install new ones. I wanted the same quartet of Kumho Crugens that it came with, but they were unavailable so I opted for the 235/60-18 Nexens that were on sale. Reviews of them were mixed, but with a 65,000-mile treadwear warranty, I figured they'd be the last set for our Hyundai. I joked with Amanda that this was going to be one of our most expensive Disney trips ever because we hadn't even left and had already spent $1,500!
We departed before 6 a.m., and an hour later were treated to a beautiful sun rise over Mobile Bay. Fortunately, traffic on Easter Sunday was light but I knew that the acid test would come when we hit the I-75 corridor just north of Lake City, Florida. Funneling drivers from six-different states, I-75 is a 1,786-mile monster that spans the length of North America all the way up to Canada. It's not uncommon to spot license plates from as far away as Illinois and Michigan, but this time traffic was completely inundated with tourists from Georgia. Given that the CDC had just issued a Level 4 Threat Alert (the highest COVID-19 Threat Level possible) for the Peach State, that made it all the more charming to know that their infectious throngs would be swarming The Magic Kingdom when we arrived.
But our immediate danger was in simply getting to Disney in one piece. Statistics confirm that not only is the congestion on I-75 getting worse every single year (some 80,000 vehicles travel it daily) it's also getting much more treacherous. For instance, traffic fatalities near Gainesville have seen a 52% spike over the past ten years. In 2019, a semi truck collided with a passenger van, killing five children aboard and injuring eight others. They were traveling from Louisiana and never made it to Disney World.
And even if you don't end up getting killed, the traffic is so bad it makes you want to kill yourself. Take the account of a 48 year-old Mississippi man who on February 25th jumped to his death from the Millhopper Road overpass. His body reportedly bounced off a 2019 Kenworth tractor-trailer before landing in the Northbound lane. Now, I've hit my fair share of small, woodland creatures but I can only imagine the cacophony created from a full-sized adult body striking a vehicle moving at 80 mph. I bet the driver of the Kenworth had to stop at the next exit to change his underwear!
Mississippi had thankfully rescinded its mask mandate in March, but Florida wasn't expected to until June or July, so we were stuck wearing the hot and uncomfortable face coverings everywhere we went. I laughed about Disney's polite warning that guests who didn't comply "would be asked to leave" but it became very evident that The Mouse Mafia doesn't take those violations lightly. In fact, I was reprimanded multiple times when my mask didn't completely cover the top of my nose, and each time I retorted that it was because either I couldn't feel it or talking had caused it to drop down. Even so, I quickly got tired of the harassment and simply referred to them as Mask Nazis. Further infuriating me, they had the audacity to constantly badger me about it, but couldn't be bothered to refill any of the hand sanitizer stations.
This hypocrisy also included temperature checks at all the parks and Disney Springs where we visited for dinner after arriving. And while the temperature screenings were mildly inconvenient, it seems the combination of endless waiting, heat and exhaustion took its toll on one patron from Louisiana who refused the health check and was promptly arrested. Broadcasting his elitist attitude, he claimed that Disney couldn't kick him out since he paid $15,000 to stay there for the week. I had to laugh as the last time I heard of someone getting forcibly removed, it was by a guy who had fondled Minnie Mouse. In my estimation, he was either very dumb or very weird— everyone knows the princesses are (literally) much more attractive targets unless you have a rodent fetish.
For breakfast on our first day, Amanda booked us reservations at the hugely popular Trattoria Al Forno, an upscale eatery at Disney's BoardWalk that loosely translates to "Oven Baked Italian Restaurant." Despite ten trips to Disney in the past ten years, we'd never set foot on the BoardWalk so were were looking forward to the unusual experience of visiting a new place.
Our only problem seemed to be in figuring out how to get there.
Due to Disney's byzantine bus schedule, it was impossible to go directly from our resort to the BoardWalk. Therefore, it was suggested that we catch a ride from All-Star Movies (where we were staying) to Animal Kingdom, even though we had no intentions of actually going in. Instead, we were told it would be easy to catch a shuttle to the BoardWalk from there. However, Disney transportation is like an airport terminal, with around thirty different gates for all the buses, and our connecting spot always seems to be the very last one. Despite that, we made the trek and waited for our BoardWalk bus to pick us up. Incredulously, a couple buses pulled in and expelled their passengers but never gave us the chance to board. We had allotted an hour for travel, but that had mostly been eaten up by the pickup snafus and our dining reservation was coming due shortly. In desperation, I approached one of the cast members in the office and explained our dilemma. Unfortunately, she agreed that Disney's bus routes outside the four main theme parks are problematic at best and had little to offer in the way of advice.
It was then that I attempted a little "social engineering" in hopes of increasing our odds of getting to the BoardWalk quickly. I noticed on her name tag that she was from Havana, Cuba, so I teasingly asked her if she had any Romeo y Julieta cigars I could smoke while I waited? She acknowledged that she didn't, but nonetheless perked up at the mention of them. Seeing that I now had her attention, I pressed onward inquiring if she possessed any Havana Club Rum? She volunteered that her last time to visit Cuba was right before COVID and that while she couldn't find any Havana Club, she said all the local rums were pretty similar in taste and quality. I agreed, adding that Cuba's unique soil is the best in the world for growing sugarcane and tobacco.
Following my carefully constructed rapport-building conversation, she was suddenly much more eager to help us and within a few minutes we found ourselves as the sole passengers on a bus destined for the BoardWalk. Having been accustomed to being crammed in these vehicles like sardines, it was quite a treat to be chauffeured around as VIPs. It was the first time—but not the last—that we would have an entire bus to ourselves during our week at Disney. But most importantly, it underscored how a little friendliness towards the cast members can pave the way for a much more "magical" experience.
Full disclosure: I'm a fiend for flapjacks so I couldn't wait to try Trattoria's special buttermilk pancakes. Their Italian recipe makes them much fluffier and thicker than I'm used to, and ironically, more similar to Japanese Souffle Pancakes than traditional American ones. There was a side of strawberry compote that I combined with the butter and syrup to create the most mouthwatering matutinal meal of all time. I haven't ever eaten a strawberry shortcake for breakfast before, much less one slathered with butter and drenched in syrup, but it was gastronomic hedonism at it's finest. Meanwhile, Amanda said she felt like she needed to take her insulin just from gazing at my sugary abomination.
As we left Trattoria, we discovered that a quick walk around the BoardWalk led us right up to Epcot, which would have been wonderful to know about two hours earlier, saving us a lot of frustration. But, we filed it away for future reference and made our way to Test Track, our first ride of the day. It's a perennial favorite, although I feel the 250 hp and 65 mph top-speed is not as thrilling as when the ride first debuted in 1999. Nevertheless, it retains the title of fastest attraction at Disney World (beating out Rock 'n' Roller Coaster by just 5 mph) but competitors such as Universal's new Velocicoaster have surpassed it. Personally, I'd like to see them restore the ride's originally proposed top speed of 95 mph, before it was dialed down to match the (then) national speed limit of 65 mph. It would definitely breathe new life into the attraction.
But until Disney decides on that, I had the next best thing: Per Lotus Sports Car founder Colin Chapman, the easiest way to make a vehicle faster is to remove excess weight, and thanks to a little luck and imposed social distancing regulations, that's just what we got. Typically, each Test Track "SimCar" seats six passengers— three in the front and three in the back. However, with COVID protocols, the middle seat in both rows was purposely left empty so we were effectively burdened with one-third less mass. Couple that with our other two passengers being a woman and small girl, and our power-to-weight ratio improved even more.
Although our top speed was still limited to 65 mph, the overall acceleration did feel mildly improved courtesy of roughly 500 fewer pounds to motivate. In fact, it was so fun it even gave me the inspiration to stalk a visiting Anorexics Anonymous group and try to ride as frequently as possible with them.
Disney claimed that park capacity was being limited to 35% due to social distancing, but what we observed was clearly a lot more than that. Granted, it wasn't as crowded as previous Spring Breaks we've attended, but it was enough to generate two-hour waits at all the top attractions.
The annual "Flower and Garden" festival was in full-swing when we arrived, so there was even more gluttonous consumption of frilly and overpriced snacks than usual. And as you can imagine, with that quantity of food being devoured, there were invariably some unappetizing sights derived from it. Since food is not allowed on the buses, one kid creatively smuggled a massive turkey leg up the sleeve of his hoodie so he could gnaw on it undisturbed. Had he been a little older, he might have thought to shove it in his pants, thereby attracting some female companionship.
Small children at Disney are also amusing, whether it's a red-faced tantrum or an inevitable mishap with food. In this case, a grandfather was delivering a large pretzel to a toddler in a stroller when he clumsily dropped it. Yet despite it's less than round circumference, it performed an admirable duplication of a prehistoric wheel, awkwardly rolling a couple feet on the heavily trafficked ground before quickly tipping over. But much to my shock, the elderly man simply picked it up and handed it to the child as if nothing had happened. Publilius Syrus may have observed that "a rolling stone gathers no moss" but I'm not so sure he'd feel the same about a pretzel at Epcot. In fact, moss would be the least of my worries!
Amanda had struggled for two-months to get us dinner reservations at Topolino's Terrace, the stunning rooftop restaurant located in the new Riviera Resort. In January 2020, we were among the first to eat breakfast there and had fallen in love with the whole experience which was modeled after the cliff-side restaurants in France and Italy. So, after a long and sweaty day of being in the Parks, we caught a Skyliner to take us over for dinner there. We arrived and rode an elevator to the tenth floor before checking in with the restaurant manager. He informed us that our table wasn't quite ready yet, but invited us to enjoy the stunning sunset on the outdoor patio while we waited.
Once outside, I began to feel a little self-conscious as all the other guests seemed really dressed up while we were in typical park attire of t-shirts and shorts. When Amanda noticed the same thing, I defended our clothing choice by reminding her that we had spent all day park-hopping in the heat, while most of these guests looked like they were staying at the Riviera and had come freshly from their rooms.
Eventually, our table was ready and we made our way there. Once seated, I didn't feel as conspicuous and we focused on what we wanted to order. Their so-called "Flavors of the Riviera" tended toward dishes you might find in a Michelin Star restaurant, with prices to match. Amanda's Diver Scallops entree cost $49, while my Tomahawk Veal Chop was $52. Judged solely on weight and visual appeal, my French-trimmed rib bone was a much smarter purchase than her handful of tiny, bivalve mollusks. And with so many "Allergy-Friendly" and "Plant-Based" options on the menu, my sizzling hunk of red meat was a huge middle-finger to all the salad eaters.
While there, I casually sent a picture of my Veal Chop to a co-worker named Richard who shares my similar taste in fine dining. Victoria describes him as "Bougie like us" and loves to see his text messages that he intentionally writes in an onomatopoeia. He recalled his recent experience with steaks and how his cat had attempted to eat them in the middle of the night. When Victoria read it to us in a satirical accent, Amanda thought she said "butt holes" instead of "bite holes" and it lead to a lengthy discussion about last year's "Cats" movie and how their sphincters were digitally erased with CGI. When the movie bombed, James Corden blamed the poor box office on the removal of said orifices and campaigned for the unedited version to be released which was dubbed the "Butt Hole Cut." Despite their love of felines, neither Amanda nor Victoria knew about this controversy, and both laughed hysterically as I explained the whole sordid tale to them. Finally, the contiguity of discussing the repulsive subject matter in such a ritzy restaurant made it even funnier. Amanda was convinced that the taboo subject of feline anuses had never been spoken about in Topolino's before and probably never would again!
But the concluding humorous footnote to our dining experience came the following day when I noticed the overdue reminder for our reservation. It specifically mentioned the dress code and stated that "Men must wear khakis, slacks or dress shorts and collared shirts. Sport coats are optional.Women must wear Capri pants, skirts, dresses or dress shorts."
Oops!
Even though the event was the night before, I felt a huge wave of embarrassment wash over me and then I finally understood why everyone seemed so overdressed. I cringed at the memory of me strolling in there with a Nike t-shirt (featuring, of all things, an alien abduction) and athletic shorts. Of course, I really had to tease Amanda about her Nightmare Before Christmas shirt: It was emblazoned with a huge picture of Jack Skellington complaining that he hated people and mornings. She was humiliated, but I couldn't stop laughing! We sure must have raised some eyebrows and it's amazing we didn't get kicked out!
It definitely got an A+ for presentation as it abounded with numerous Blue Oval touches such as a couple Model Ts parked in front, a six-cylinder engine by the entrance, and even repurposed truck tailgates for the benches. As it turned out, the benches were particularly important since there was a lot of waiting involved. It was immensely popular, as a party of eight behind us was from Dallas, Texas. However, there was no word on whether they drove a Ford or not. I told Amanda that actual owners such as myself should be given priority seating, but we had to wait regardless.
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