After years of procrastination, the Jones family is finally planning a trip to Disney. And holy shit, I had no idea how much work just planning this crap would be.
The first thing I did was visit a friend who makes frequent Disney trips. She and her husband were very helpful and had so much information that I left feeling completely overwhelmed. They had an abundance of advice to offer but it couldn’t conquer my theme park ignorance. Fortunately, we had to delay the trip a year because right after the Disney interrogation meeting, we bought a new house.
So, the first thing I did this go-round was enlist the help of a Disney travel agent. She works for Disney, so it’s a commission situation that doesn’t add to the already bazillion dollar cost. She has taken care of everything with the minimal amount of input I can bring myself to give.
Now we’re to the part where we have to pick restaurants and parks. I have no idea why this is so overwhelming for me. Probably because I’m the mom and if we go to a park that’s not as fun as it should be, or we eat a restaurant that turns out to be grody, it will be me who is subjected to the loudest whining.
I really don’t give two shits if we eat with Chip and Dale instead of Donald Duck. Nobody likes Donald Duck anyway. He’s the Newman of Mickey Mouse. And I can promise that no matter where we eat, I’ll constantly be reminded that not eating grains or cheese makes me a restaurant pariah. So I’ll eventually relent and eat whatever is offered, even if that means spending half of the vacation feeling like I accidentally swallowed a basketball that will never, ever pass through.
And no, there isn’t a marijuana dispensary at Disney.
My hope is that the planning is worse than the actual trip will be. I do tend to get worked up about things that usually turn out fine. There will be cool Star Wars stuff, and Phineas and Ferb. It can’t be awful, right? Or maybe it will be an absolute shit-show, complete with kid meltdowns and colitis.
Either way, we’re freaking going. Yay, Disney!