1. Being all serious and chit, they sit at their tables discussing writer-like things, such as "Is this coffee caffeinated? I hate decaff," and "Are you gonna eat that? Because if you aren't, I will."
2. Someone's phone pings.
3. While one writer espouses on the lack of a common e-publishing platform, Phone Boy interrupts with, "Guys, that was my son. There are NO LINES IN THE PARK."
4. Then, "Guys, we could totally talk about all this stuff IN THE PARK."
5. So business is discussed in line IN THE PARK, where writers who use their Amazon ranking in obscure genres to promote themselves as Best Selling Authors are the topic, and wherein they are determined to be frauds and dootiheads.
It's a hard life.
Things were learned, though. It was learned that future workshops/conferences/meetings/roundtable discussions will not take place in Disneyland, because writers are immature and Disney is fun.
It was learned, too, that you want me along, because, dammit, I am classy as frak.
Also, I dress professionally. Always.
Also also, since I didn't get to drive my little red convertible to Disney (seemed like a bad idea, honestly, what with the smell of cows all down I-5) I found another one to play with.
No worries. The kids I shoved out of the way so I could get in the car were not hurt. Badly. There was no blood, I swear!
There was a lot of good food, so we ate...a lot.
(That was seriously the best fried chicken I've ever had, I think. It's at the Plaza Inn and the end of Main Street.)
And I gave drinking a try.
We really lucked out with the crowds; on Wednesday and Thursday the crowd levels were so low that we pretty much walked onto the rides we wanted to be on. The waits were like 5-10 minutes tops, and we managed to get on everything 2-4 times. Even Radiator Springs Racers, which normally has a 1-2 hour wait, we only waited for 40 minutes at most...and that was in shade with a nice breeze, so it didn't feel like it was that long.
But Friday.
Space Mountain. 4 times. 'Cause we could. |
I was exhausted by then, my gut was churning and my back was screaming, and we didn't get too far into Disneyland in the morning before heading back to the hotel where we just chilled until around 4:30, then tried again. It was still warm but there was a lot more shade, so we wandered around...and realized there were more and more people, and it was so crowded it was hard to turn around without bumping into someone else.
By 6:30 we were hungry and getting twitchy about the crowds, so we noped it on out of there and went to Downtown Disney to get dinner, because surely it wouldn't be as bad there.
Yeah.
The wait to get seated at Rainforest Cafe was 1:45 to 2 hours, and looking around it wasn't any better anywhere else, so we went back to the hotel and ordered room service. We'd expected to wait just as long for that, but figured we'd be comfortable while we waited...but less than half an hour later we had a table in our room and ate before the people who'd been just ahead of us in that Rainforest line were even seated.
It's the little things...
I did have to take a few breaks--no surprise there--but we had a great time. Good enough that we decided we really do like Disney better than Vegas and would like to go again this year, probably in the late fall when the weather is cooler and the crowds are a lot like they were most of the time this week.
No more work type things there, though. That just didn't work out well, and next time we want to have fun people with us. coughcough Disney would be a great getaway from Texas. Just sayin' coughcough.
Now the fun part of the Spouse Thingy's time off: the toilet in his bathroom is clogged, so we need a plumber, but we're not paying for a weekend or holiday repair, so we're sharing a bathroom right now and I HATE SHARING BATHROOMS WITH BOYS. Or anyone. Because inevitably, when I realllly have to go, someone has already gotten in there before me.
And no, Max did not miss me. He had the Grandma. I actually think he resents that we came home.
2 comments:
I've been trying and trying to get the woman to write a book that fits into "cat sleuth" on Amazon but she keeps refusing. And now you have added fuel to her fire of not doing it. So what if most of those cat sleuths are Siamese--as well they should be.
Yup, you got it right about Max. It sounds like he NEEDS you to wear pants.
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