We’ve spent the last couple of days at Walt Disney World.
I know. Life is hard.
We figured this is our last hurrah, before summer. We have Florida resident season passes, and this is the last non-busy week before the craziness of May crowds. And then we’re barred from going June through August. (Block out dates.)
Which is fine by us. Because the summer crowds are, well, crowded. And this is Florida. Which is synonymous with hell in the summer.
No offense to hell.
In fact, I prefer to spend the entire summer season indoors, if that’s at all possible. And really, if I sprint between the air-conditioned car and our front door, I need never be overtaken by heat stroke. And bingo, I’ve gotten in a little exercise as well.
With each subsequent trip to the happiest place on earth, I’m more and more convinced that I need to write a how-to book about navigating Disney World.
Particularly the bathrooms.
I have been storing up tidbits of information in my sieve-like mind with each visit. Useful information which I have yet to find in any previously published Disney World Manual.
For example, when you ride Splash Mountain, you will end up with a soggy bottom. Soaked right down to your under drawers. No matter where you sit on the ride. And any attempt to shield yourself using an article of your own clothing or, say, one of your own children is in vain.
After riding Splash Mountain, you may feel the urge to visit the nearby Ladies Room. You know, because of THE SOUND OF ALL THE RUSHING WATER, and all.
And here is where you must pay close attention.
If you must visit the Ladies Room after riding Splash Mountain, never, I repeat NEVER, use the paper seat cover provided to feather your nest. It will morph into paper mache and become a permanent attachment to your backside. In the shape of a toilet seat.
And another thing, while I’m on the subject: I take issue with those automatic flushing toilets that Disney World so thoughtfully provides. Toilets that flush willy nilly with no provocation whatsoever. What’s up with that?
It annoys to to no end to finally detach an entire seat cover (as they normally are dispensed in tiny pieces), and then to carefully place the cover over the offending seat, only to have the toilet mysteriously flush for no good reason. Thusly taking your precious seat cover away before it could be put to good use.
Today that scenario played out for me SEVEN times in the bathroom nearest The Tower of Terror. I outsmarted the toilet by a move that could only be recreated during a high spirited game of Twister.
I actually broke a sweat. Which is so uncool.
It is a mystery to me why Disney isn’t busting a femur trying to get me to be like an official reviewer.
I’ve been working through a few titles for my novel. The best I’ve been able to come up with is “Experiencing Disney World, One Flush at a Time.”
Clearly, more research may be in order.