The morning chill was still in the air as I turned to my brother and asked him for the vitamin water. He looked at me, eyebrows knit, and asked, "already?"
Just as he asked that my mother squeezed the throttle of her rented electric scooter and nearly rammed into the poor man ahead of us in line. I reached out as if I could magically will the scooter to not kill my moms next hit-and-run victim.
My teeth gritted, my eyes scanning for any way for me to remote control the death-mobile, I told him that, yes, I do in deed need the vitamin water.
He pulled it out and I took a long swig of it.
If anyone was sherlocking the crowd, they might have noticed the slight lime color to the Orange-orange vitamin water bottle. They might have thought to themselves, "that orange-flavored beverage does not seem to be the right color. Maybe it has gone bad." If they were more astute (and a better alcoholic) they'd know it was rather margarita-ish colored.
"Woah, you gonna save any for the rest of us?" He asked.
I cast him a look as I passed it to my mom, then to my "person," Sarah, and then back to Matt. By the time we had reached the costumed ride attendant of the Matterhorn, we were all relaxed and out of warm margarita.
The bonus of my mother's calcified-ankle-tendon-whatever-her-injury-was, was that we got front-of-the-line privileges. We'd move along the short line or even get in through the back. It was like having two fast passes at once.
That being said, Disney kept having little "mishaps" which would cause the very ride we wanted to get on to shut down just as we got into line.
One such incident was the "blow out" mishap that shut down Space Mountain (or as they called it, a "containment issue). We speculated that the kid waited too long in line, then when the ride took off all fast like it scared the shit out of him -- literally.
At one point, over an already tense lunch, my mom was sure that a lady had given birth on a ride. I assured her the baby was no way a new born. It was wearing pants! Babies hardly ever wear pants out of the womb. They're Rebels like that.
This then caused us to need more alcohol (which is not easy to come by in Disneyland. You have to leave the park or smuggle it in. Which is wrong.) so Matt broke out the water bottle that was filled with Malibu instead of water and poured it into our cokes (this was the least creative of all the flasks we had brought with us).
We stayed well hydrated all weekend.
Which might explain my bathroom mishap at Tequila Joes.
Tequila Joes was a fun experience all around. We stayed laughing and eating the entire time and had a fantastic waitress. But that's besides the point.
The point is, alcohol and first-time-use of a menstral cup and a stall door that won't stay closed is not a good combination. Let's just say it was messy and awkward (not that the second removal wasn't any less messy or awkward. Just different circumstances in which I almost called Sarah in to help me retrieve it).
The weekend was eventful.
I cried in front of Winnie the Pooh. Almost got eaten alive by a swarm of people during the fireworks show. Made a comment about my boobs too loud in front of the waitress. Made up an interpretive dance for peeing. Nearly killed a child while driving my moms scooter (it's okay, they can always make more). And was determined I should Never have kids as I firmly believe they will choke on anything that is smaller than the size of their heads.
It was emotional. It was fun. Can't wait to do it again next year. Maybe we should do Paris next?
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