Trader Sam’s Enchanted Tiki Bar

November 18, 2016 Comments Off read Attractions, California, Masticating With Mellzah, Pacific, Travel, USA, West

After a day at Disneyland, no matter how much fun you had, you could probably use a drink or two. I definitely could, so I walked down the nigh-endless mall that is Downtown Disney to the Disneyland Hotel, to imbibe a few at Trader Sam’s Enchanted Tiki Bar. The place was surprisingly crowded, but luckily a couple of seats opened up at the bar shortly after I arrived–I mean, sure, if you want to drink your drinks poolside, that’s certainly a thing you could do, but if I was going to slurp down a few expensive drinks in novelty glasses, I damn well wanted to do so in an enchanted atmosphere, so the pool would absolutely not do for me. And hot damn, is the atmosphere inside ever enchanted. The taps have glowing eyes and play different rhythms whenever a beer is poured. Little jokes are plastered all over the walls. And whenever someone orders a novelty drink, the whole bar gets in on the action. Ships sink. Sirens blaze. Volcanoes explode. You may or may not be sitting in a splash zone.

God knows I love me a novelty glass, so my first drink of the evening was the legendary “Uh-Oa!”, which is so large that it must be shared by two or more people. It comes in a large mug with tiki figurines on three sides, the heads of which are all filled with ground cinnamon. The lights go down, the bartender sets some booze soaked sugar cubes atop a lime on fire, and while every patron in the bar chants “uh oa! uh oa! uh oa!”, you grab pinches of cinnamon and fling them into the fire, sending sparks into the air. It was magical, and it’s probably good that I got the playing with fire accomplished before I got hecka drunk, which I was after drinking my half of this drink. Not that a little thing like being two and three quarters sheets to the wind was going to stop me from ordering another drink, because I had a lot of trunk space with which to fill with novelty glassware. So Jason ordered a krakatoa, setting off the volcano, and I acquired a rum-filled shrunken head, which is kind of funny as I’d think all that rum would cause a head to change sizes in the opposite direction. Or at least feel that way. I also, more wisely, ordered the pu pu platter, which came with sweet and spicy asian wings, glazed portuguese sausage bites, panko crusted chinese long beans, tropical slaw, and a sriracha aioli, all of which made my mouth super happy and my tummy less booze-slosh-y.

After we finished those, we agreed that it was probably for the best if we didn’t imbibe any more Disneyland booze magic, so we wandered back down the Disney mall and made it rain on Star Wars merchandise, namely a Chewbacca print that set my heart aflame with adorableness. Where am I going to hang it? I don’t know, same place I’m going to store all of this novelty glassware, I guess.

The Happiest Place on Earth

November 16, 2016 Comments Off read Attractions, California, Pacific, Travel, USA, West

The first and only time I’ve ever been to Disneyland* was when I was six years old, and my strongest memory of that visit was demanding a mickey ears hat with my name embroidered on it even though I had already spent my souvenir money on a pretty pink princess hat, because I was a little shit**. I got that mickey hat, though both hats have since been lost. Jason’s strongest memory of Disney is of throwing an unholy fit until he acquired a set of stuffed Chip & Dale, rescue rangers, and he got them, though Chip and Dale have both since wandered off into the great beyond, possibly in need of a rescue of their own. So while obviously I’ve seen a lot of the mouse in popular culture since then, the only thing that I personally knew to be a fact about Disneyland was that it had the power to make tiny humans want things with a need so visceral that it might tear them apart. I decided that I wanted to go at least once as an adult to really get the breadth of the experience–ride the rides I wanted to ride, eat the food I wanted to eat, buy the stuff I wanted to buy. In other words, the sort of happy time my parents could have had if they hadn’t had me.

In the morning, at breakfast, some of Cinderella’s helpers decided to try and help themselves to my oatmeal, but I was not having it. Where were they when I was having a wardrobe malfunction the previous evening? Nowhere to be found, the jerks.

On the walk to the park, I saw an interesting warning sign: “The Disneyland Resort contains chemicals known to the state of California to cause cancer and birth defects or other reproductive harm.” This sign justifies all the disregard I’ve given these sorts of warnings, because if motherflipping Disneyland, the pinnacle of family friendly entertainment, wasn’t able to meet these safety guidelines, either these warnings are about elements so trace as to be negligible, or absolutely everything gives you cancer and harms reproductive health. It officially doesn’t matter anymore, have some more of that cancer kale with sperm damage dressing, because none of us are getting out of this alive, anyway. Or, if you’re like me and at Disneyland, you’ll have a cancer churro and an egg damage dole whip.

When I visited, Disneyland was all decked out for Halloween, and it was pretty flipping adorable, with pumpkins everywhere and the few characters we saw roaming around decked out in festive costumes. Some of the rides had even been altered for Halloween–Space Mountain became Ghost Galaxy (which mostly involves ghosts screaming at you in spaaaaaaaaace) and the Haunted Mansion was redecorated in a Nightmare Before Christmas theme which I was obviously all about. But more on that later: my first stop in the park was Tomorrowland, aka Star Wars World***.

Star Tours: The Adventures Continue is a motion simulator ride–one of those rides where you’re strapped into a moving chair in a room with a movie screen. This one was in 3D, so you get to wear some really fetching glasses to show off just how cool you really are. (Spoiler: not that cool.) I did like that during the ride, they showed us a photo of a “rebel agent” who was actually in our group, which is something I feel like I haven’t seen before and was a nice touch.

We exited into the Star Wars gift shop and my immediate lust for a BB-8 style mouse ears hat was just as immediately quenched when I saw what it looked like on my big, round head. Far from cute. I have seen many, many trendy bloggers on instagram out and about in their spangled mouse ears, and occasionally I have envied their cuteness. Now I know for certain I can never be part of their elite blogger cabal. Somehow, they pull mouse ears off. Those hats turn my fivehead into a twelvehead. Don’t believe me? YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

That’s allllllllll forehead under there. Forehead for days. And where my forehead ends, my skull gives birth to Jack Skellington. Don’t ask how, learn your lady anatomy, people.

I do have to wonder if perhaps I’m just not the sort of person who can pull off Disney regalia in general. We tried on a lot of hats that day, friends, and none of them looked anything other than especially stupid. Or maybe I don’t have the Disney Attitude™. Although, I did see a bunch of ladyblogger types walking around in sequin mouse ears, crop tops, and eight pounds of makeup, and when they weren’t posing for “omg look at how much fun we’re having (#blessed)” selfies, they looked pissed. So they probably don’t have the Disney Attitude™, either.

The Pirates of the Caribbean ride has definitely changed since I was a kid to incorporate things from the movies, and it’s still quite fun. However, the name should be changed to Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of Soggy Bottom because the seat was sopping wet which made my seat sopping wet for the better part of the afternoon, the better to make it look like I had a fear-based accident in the Happiest Place on Earth.

At some point, lunch happened:

And after lunch, we finally hit the Haunted Mansion. And wouldn’t you know it, as soon as we got close to the entrance, the ride broke down. Most of the people around us in line left, but I decided to wait. Thankfully, the extra wait wasn’t long, though I was prepared to wait as long as it took–days, if necessary. Nothing was keeping my spooky ass out of that mansion.

And it was just as good as I hoped it would be.

We hit a few more rides, had a dole whip, did some more shopping, and at that point, I’d pretty much had enough. There weren’t any other rides I was interested enough to wait for, the park had gotten insanely crowded (it went from reasonable levels to shoulder-to-shoulder everywhere which makes me feel panicky), I didn’t particularly want to meet any characters or collect autographs, so we decided to call it for the day. I think it’s funny that while Jason and I both remember throwing mighty tantrums at Disney as children, the only bad behavior I witnessed there was from other adults.

The verdict? Disney is fun–the things that they do well, they do really well. There’s attention to detail everywhere, the grounds are much better taken care of than any other theme park I’ve visited, and their animatronics are outstanding. I just don’t know that I’d ever want to go again. I definitely don’t understand the people who go every year, the people with the real Disney Attitude™. I am, however, interested in decking out my home in full Haunted Mansion fashion.

Oh, and I finally got one of those caramel apples. Dreams DO come true at Disney, so long as those dreams are specifically Disney-related.

*I did go to Disney World when I was twelve, and I do remember that visit much better–for example, I remember the employee in Epcot’s France calling me fat, which I was, but goddamn, dude. That was savage.

**I mean, I still am a shit, I’m just a much bigger one now. This tantrum-y behavior is now known in my home as “moon door-ing” as in “there sure are a whole lot of moon doors at the mall today”. Not that someone is likely to overhear your conversation, anyway, when their kid is screeching at jet engine decibel levels, but I’m just trying to comment on the situation with my husband, not make someone feel bad on the scale of Epcot Frenchman.

***Not actually also known as Star Wars World, but it should be.

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Lassen Volcanic National Park

November 14, 2016 Comments Off read California, Pacific, The Great Outdoors, Travel, USA, West

At least, Lassen was the plan. We’d spent the night in Dunsmuir as it put us within easy morning striking distance of this national park–it would be a not insignificant detour on our day’s route, as that evening’s destination was Anaheim, which was a nine hour drive without a detour, but national parks are worth detouring for. We ended up sitting in construction traffic for a while, but the sun was shining, we had podcasts playing, and there was jerky to gnaw on (the breakfast of champions). Often as you approach a national park, the land around you will grow wilder, a hint of what is to come. I can’t say that was really the case here. It grew more rural, certainly, and our car got chased down the road by a pack of dogs which was pretty wild, but there were no glimpses of the park through the trees, no clues to what lay ahead.

What lay ahead was that the park was closed due to snowy/icy roads. Dang it! The visitor’s center and a short walking trail were still open, but the driving loop through the park was closed. I was disappointed but this area isn’t so terribly far away that I couldn’t make another attempt in the summer. If I’m honest, I’m already half planning my next trip to that area. And it wasn’t all bad–we got to take a bathroom break, stretch our legs in the crisp air, listen to bird chatter, and see a tiny part of a place neither one of us had been before.

The trees were coated with the most neon green moss I’ve ever seen. It flipped my cameras out, they utterly balked at its vibrancy.

Greeeeeeeeeeeeeen!

From the sort-of-fail at Lassen, we pushed hard toward Anaheim, making a stop for In N Out burgers (a given), taking a short detour for an address I’d plugged into RoadTrippers which turned out to be an empty orchard in the middle of nowhere (uhhhh, thanks, past me), and stopping for the occasional restroom break. Sometimes, adventure is seeing new sights and plunging off a rocky cliff with a parachute strapped to your back, and sometimes, it’s flossing a chunk of jerky the size of a toddler out from your teeth in a McDonald’s parking lot while being watched by something like twenty feral kittens, and this drive was definitely more the latter. Not just more the latter, exactly the latter, because that was precisely what happened. One moment, I felt I wanted to pull over and get out some dental floss, and the next, there were cats everywhere and my mouth was giving birth to something so large I should have probably given it a name. I suppose it’s not too late. Rest in peace, Jay Erke.

Even pushing, we arrived at our hotel late, with all of the usual complaints that come with a long day’s car travel, so I was thrilled to learn that the pool and hot tub were 24 hours. I wasted no time after check in to don my brand new suit decked out all over with sharks (only $10 on Amazon!) and head to the pool–it was late enough at night that Jason and I had the entire pool to ourselves, which was a blessing in more ways than one. Not just for the quiet and moving a body that had spent too many hours sitting and the warm water on aching muscles, but also because within a minute of hitting the pool, one of my boobs popped out, and also, the suit turned see through. Not “naked in the pool” sort of see through (minus, of course, the escapee situation which was corralled immediately), but definitely “it’s a good thing there isn’t a strong light source nearby” sort of see through. What I’m saying is, there’s a solid reason that swimsuit was only ten dollars and it wasn’t quite the bargain I thought it to be. So, you know, thanks again, cover of darkness and other hotel guests with reasonable bedtimes. You saved me a lot of embarrassment. At least until I splashed it out all over the internet.

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