Travel-blogue, Day 4
After struggling to sleep through Mrs. JLowe's snoring, and drinking a full gallon of bottled water due to the thirst I was still attempting to slake, I finally woke up and joined the rest of our crew in preparing for a new day.
It was to be a glorious day. A special day.
A Disney Day.
We all slept in, a bit, but there was plenty of daylight to burn. Not so bright, though, as LA was covered by a batch of foreboding clouds that, were I in Oregon, I would have assumed meant rain.
We started the day by going down to the Newport Beach oceanfront. I was looking around for Summer or Seth from The O.C., or at least for some of their haunts, but was sad to find that most of that show isn't real after all.
JLowe's wife was looking around for her lost camera, which she managed to misplace the prior day, and we accosted Joe at work in the hopes that he may have accidentally driven to his office with the device in his car. No such luck.
After she came to grips with the fact that she'd not be able to take any delightful photos at the Happiest Place on Earth, Lady Lowe came back to her senses and remembered what she'd been thinking about throughout the prior evening (even as she ate pasta at the Cheesecake Factory). DONUTS!
Lady Lowe loves donuts the way I love air. She craves them with every part of her being. She aches for them when they are not near her. And, so, when Joe had driven us past a donut place near the pier the previous day, she had secured her destiny in her mind.
She would have donuts.
So, a donut run was made. The donut shop was kinda unimpressive. They had a variety of donuts and muffins, but when you looked at their coffee pots (for Oregonians, a crucial breakfast pastry accompaniment), you saw disregarded equipment filled with, no-doubt, disregardable content.
JLowe cringed and bought a milk instead. I asked for a peppermint tea.
"Huh," the lady behind the counter asked.
"Do you have peppermint tea?"
She looked at me, like I was speaking some freaking moon language--blankly and with disdain--for a full 5 seconds before blinking and saying "We don't have peppermint." She turned and grabbed a tea box from the shelf. "We have Misty Mint."
Misty Mint? What the hell is Misty Mint? I've never seen a Misty Mint plant, and if I did I'd probably pull it like a weed.
But I wanted some mint tea, so Misty Mint was ordered.
Bad choice.
It was as we were leaving the donut shop, and as I was trying to figure out how much of my tea I had to drink to keep from feeling guilty for spending the money prior to pouring the rest out, that I started to ponder the ludicrousness of the South Beach Diet.
The prior day, we'd gone to a corn dog stand by the pier, not for dogs, but for snacks. I bought a large fresh-squeezed lemonade. JLowe took in the dessert-ish options before him, pondered, and selected a frozen slice of chocolate-covered cheesecake. Upon inquiry, he pointed out that he chose it over the frozen chocolate-covered banana because it had less carbs.
Psycho.
And, on this day, JLowe ordered an apple fritter and washed it down with a pint of whole milk. This, according to our diet, is preferable to having a donut and washing it down with orange juice, because the milk is high in fat and has fewer carbs, and the fritter is high in fat, so between them the fat works to interfere with digestion of the carbs in the fritter, whereas juice would just be more carbs and thus must be avoided at all costs.
Crazy.
As I finished scratching my head about this thought, I found another to ponder. As we entered the freeway towards Disney, the Monday morning traffic was lighter than Sunday afternoons.
This day just kept getting weirder and weirder.
Finally we rolled into lovely Anaheim, and made our way onto Walt's reservation. As we rolled through the grounds of Disney's campus, I saw the strangest thing ever. Do you see what I see? Speed Limit: 14.
What's that about? Speed limit 14? What, the extra MPH to make it 15 would constitute just too much for the roads to handle? I wonder if they've had people thinking "oh, I'll just round it up," only to go flying off the roadway as centrifugal force took its cruel toll on them.
Fourteen? Ludicrous.
We finally parked and made our way to the lines. Tip: At Disneyland, the ticket lines are shorter at the booths opposite the shuttle-drop side booths. Go to where people are walking in, and you'll save 10 minutes. While in line, I saw this person's pants and couldn't resist showing them to the world. Not sure why.
The day of fun began in earnest. We hit California Adventure first, and The Missus and I got this nice picture during one of our few moments together. With The Missus being preggers, and Disney's lawyers fearing any liability whatsoever, my wife had to avoid riding on a great many rides where the signs out front said pregnant women shouldn't ride due to (insert tumultuous reason to keep fetus-bearers out here).
So, it ended up being random variations of me with JLowe or me with Lady Lowe as my wife dutifully held our various equipment pieces so that we wouldn't lose them.
At California Adventure, by the way, California's weather decided to follow the same laws as Oregon's for once, and the looming clouds rendered forth a light drizzle. For about 20 minutes. Then, all was peachy.
Disneyland, or any fun park, are fun to go to with JLowe if for no other reason than to mock his sensitive tummy. JLowe's last trip to Disneyland almost resulted in him puking on me in Star Tours, which (of course) is not really a "ride" so much as a shaking seat in a movie theater.
This time, JLowe almost got sick on two actual rides, and gave me the finger on Star Tours when I looked over to see if he was near-chucking.
The day went by quickly, and at about 5pm we'd had enough. Of rides, that is. The women weren't quite done with Disney yet, and decided to look around at the various over-priced stores in Downtown Disney as I sat outside, checking my work voicemail and wishing I was dead rather than shopping in California.
Shortly after, we left. On the way back, I noticed just how much nicer it is to be in a carpool lane than not to. And I wondered why carpoolers are so few and far between when the benefits are so obvious.
Back at the ranch, Joe and I ordered pizza from Big Belly Deli, and as we waited for the order to come through, we drank beer, watched baseball, and discussed girls, which will be the one thing men never, ever tire of discussing until the day we die.
We then went to Safeway and bought some Sol (aka Corona for Poor People), and went back to Joe's for a night of eating (and the pizza killed all of us) and watching season one of Freaks and Geeks on DVD.
Highly recommended.
The next day was a planned excursion to San Diego or Universal Studios, which ever struck our fancy more, so after our busy Disney adventure, we went off to bed to regroup for Day 5.
What a day it would be...
It was to be a glorious day. A special day.
A Disney Day.
We all slept in, a bit, but there was plenty of daylight to burn. Not so bright, though, as LA was covered by a batch of foreboding clouds that, were I in Oregon, I would have assumed meant rain.
We started the day by going down to the Newport Beach oceanfront. I was looking around for Summer or Seth from The O.C., or at least for some of their haunts, but was sad to find that most of that show isn't real after all.
JLowe's wife was looking around for her lost camera, which she managed to misplace the prior day, and we accosted Joe at work in the hopes that he may have accidentally driven to his office with the device in his car. No such luck.
After she came to grips with the fact that she'd not be able to take any delightful photos at the Happiest Place on Earth, Lady Lowe came back to her senses and remembered what she'd been thinking about throughout the prior evening (even as she ate pasta at the Cheesecake Factory). DONUTS!
Lady Lowe loves donuts the way I love air. She craves them with every part of her being. She aches for them when they are not near her. And, so, when Joe had driven us past a donut place near the pier the previous day, she had secured her destiny in her mind.
She would have donuts.
So, a donut run was made. The donut shop was kinda unimpressive. They had a variety of donuts and muffins, but when you looked at their coffee pots (for Oregonians, a crucial breakfast pastry accompaniment), you saw disregarded equipment filled with, no-doubt, disregardable content.
JLowe cringed and bought a milk instead. I asked for a peppermint tea.
"Huh," the lady behind the counter asked.
"Do you have peppermint tea?"
She looked at me, like I was speaking some freaking moon language--blankly and with disdain--for a full 5 seconds before blinking and saying "We don't have peppermint." She turned and grabbed a tea box from the shelf. "We have Misty Mint."
Misty Mint? What the hell is Misty Mint? I've never seen a Misty Mint plant, and if I did I'd probably pull it like a weed.
But I wanted some mint tea, so Misty Mint was ordered.
Bad choice.
It was as we were leaving the donut shop, and as I was trying to figure out how much of my tea I had to drink to keep from feeling guilty for spending the money prior to pouring the rest out, that I started to ponder the ludicrousness of the South Beach Diet.
The prior day, we'd gone to a corn dog stand by the pier, not for dogs, but for snacks. I bought a large fresh-squeezed lemonade. JLowe took in the dessert-ish options before him, pondered, and selected a frozen slice of chocolate-covered cheesecake. Upon inquiry, he pointed out that he chose it over the frozen chocolate-covered banana because it had less carbs.
Psycho.
And, on this day, JLowe ordered an apple fritter and washed it down with a pint of whole milk. This, according to our diet, is preferable to having a donut and washing it down with orange juice, because the milk is high in fat and has fewer carbs, and the fritter is high in fat, so between them the fat works to interfere with digestion of the carbs in the fritter, whereas juice would just be more carbs and thus must be avoided at all costs.
Crazy.
As I finished scratching my head about this thought, I found another to ponder. As we entered the freeway towards Disney, the Monday morning traffic was lighter than Sunday afternoons.
This day just kept getting weirder and weirder.
Finally we rolled into lovely Anaheim, and made our way onto Walt's reservation. As we rolled through the grounds of Disney's campus, I saw the strangest thing ever. Do you see what I see? Speed Limit: 14.
What's that about? Speed limit 14? What, the extra MPH to make it 15 would constitute just too much for the roads to handle? I wonder if they've had people thinking "oh, I'll just round it up," only to go flying off the roadway as centrifugal force took its cruel toll on them.
Fourteen? Ludicrous.
We finally parked and made our way to the lines. Tip: At Disneyland, the ticket lines are shorter at the booths opposite the shuttle-drop side booths. Go to where people are walking in, and you'll save 10 minutes. While in line, I saw this person's pants and couldn't resist showing them to the world. Not sure why.
The day of fun began in earnest. We hit California Adventure first, and The Missus and I got this nice picture during one of our few moments together. With The Missus being preggers, and Disney's lawyers fearing any liability whatsoever, my wife had to avoid riding on a great many rides where the signs out front said pregnant women shouldn't ride due to (insert tumultuous reason to keep fetus-bearers out here).
So, it ended up being random variations of me with JLowe or me with Lady Lowe as my wife dutifully held our various equipment pieces so that we wouldn't lose them.
At California Adventure, by the way, California's weather decided to follow the same laws as Oregon's for once, and the looming clouds rendered forth a light drizzle. For about 20 minutes. Then, all was peachy.
Disneyland, or any fun park, are fun to go to with JLowe if for no other reason than to mock his sensitive tummy. JLowe's last trip to Disneyland almost resulted in him puking on me in Star Tours, which (of course) is not really a "ride" so much as a shaking seat in a movie theater.
This time, JLowe almost got sick on two actual rides, and gave me the finger on Star Tours when I looked over to see if he was near-chucking.
The day went by quickly, and at about 5pm we'd had enough. Of rides, that is. The women weren't quite done with Disney yet, and decided to look around at the various over-priced stores in Downtown Disney as I sat outside, checking my work voicemail and wishing I was dead rather than shopping in California.
Shortly after, we left. On the way back, I noticed just how much nicer it is to be in a carpool lane than not to. And I wondered why carpoolers are so few and far between when the benefits are so obvious.
Back at the ranch, Joe and I ordered pizza from Big Belly Deli, and as we waited for the order to come through, we drank beer, watched baseball, and discussed girls, which will be the one thing men never, ever tire of discussing until the day we die.
We then went to Safeway and bought some Sol (aka Corona for Poor People), and went back to Joe's for a night of eating (and the pizza killed all of us) and watching season one of Freaks and Geeks on DVD.
Highly recommended.
The next day was a planned excursion to San Diego or Universal Studios, which ever struck our fancy more, so after our busy Disney adventure, we went off to bed to regroup for Day 5.
What a day it would be...
posted by Rusty at 11:59 PM
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