One of the reasons we decided to come to Disneyland when we did was because my sister and brother-in-law were planning on being here at the same time. With their one-year-old son, Henry, in tow and a daughter, Isabel, who falls somewhere between Zoë and Emma on the Fraidy Cat/Fearless scale, I knew that if the collective was deadlocked over any rides, we could exploit them on occasion to break the deadlock.
So, today we were able to switch off so that those who wanted to go on the scary rides could, while the those less willing could stay behind and/or go ride it’s a small world until that wretched tune could etch itself into our brains for all eternity.
As expected, Emma “loved, loved, loved” Indiana Jones and the Temple of the Forbidden Eye. It instantly became her “first most favoritest ride.”
Zoë, meanwhile, shocked everyone by suddenly deciding to go on Pirates of the Caribbean and ended up loving every minute of it…to the extent that it even displaced it’s a small world as her “first most favoritest ride.”
(I’m not exactly sure when the phrase “my first most favoritest ride” weaseled its way into our theme park lexicon. I’ve tried for three days to whittle it down to “my favorite ride” or even “my most favorite ride,” if they must, but there is no getting rid of it.)
As for my favorite ride, I’m with Zoë on this one. As far as I’m concerned, there is no ride in the world that can compete with Pirates of the Caribbean. I have a terrible long-term memory, but that ride had such an impact on me as a little boy that I have never forgotten it. The thrill of the first drop, the noble futility of the skeleton pilot still trying to steer his shipwreck through the howling storm, the almost certain destruction of our tiny boat by an errant cannonball, the drunkenness, the recklessness with which the pirates brandished their firearms. It all seemed so…so…unsafe. But safely unsafe.
Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me…