Part 3 (2/2)
”You should already know,” she said.
Arghhh.
”I did know, Charlotte. But I've FORGOTTEN.”
”Lily, you must become more detail oriented!” Charlotte said, waving her rolled-up copy of the schedule around like a broadsword.
I never could understand why Charlotte, who knew me better than anyone, had never grasped the simple fact that writers are the ONE group of people on earth who should not have to be bothered with things like DETAILS. Had I not just the past year had a job as an a.s.sistant to a Real Writer, dealing with little irritants like crumbs and Post-its? Did this not prove that Real Writers could not deal with these little things themselves? Did Charles d.i.c.kens concern himself with printed itineraries and street maps while writing Oliver Twist? I think not.
”Can you just tell me where we're going, Charlotte?” I asked meekly.
Charlotte produced one of her vintage sighs.
”Disneyland,” she replied.
”Very funny,” I said. ”Where are we going today?”
Charlotte stared at me evenly.
”Disneyland,” she repeated.
It was even less funny the second time.
”Fine. I apologize for not being detail oriented enough and vow to do better in the future. There, I've said it. Okay? Now where are we going?”
”Disneyland Paris.”
O Hammer of Thor! She was SERIOUS! You can't expect a writer to visit Disneyland while in Paris. That was like expecting Mozart to compose while listening to Snoop Doggy Dogg. That was like asking van Gogh to paint under a strobe light. Like wanting the Dalai Lama to meditate while bungee jumping. THERE WOULD BE NO GEMS AND NUGGETS FOR MY MENTAL POOL IN DISNEYLAND PARIS!
”Okay, wait,” I said. ”Charlotte, it has to be a mistake. You and I both know our parents didn't cough up the Benjamins for this trip so we could go to Disneyland. This is supposed to be educational.”
”Remember the orientation meeting for this trip?” Charlotte asked.
I feared I was being lured into a trap, but I nodded. I did remember.
”Remember whose dad made the trip possible by getting our group the fifty-eight-percent discount on plane fare?”
”Yeah, it was Bud's dad. Or Chaz's dad. One of them.”
”That's right. And what company does Bud's dad have the special work connection with, that he told us all about?”
c.r.a.pstick. I had tried to jettison this information into a Memory Abyss, but now it was bubbling back to the surface.
”Walt Disney,” I mumbled.
”And what did Bud's dad really, really want us to do in Paris since we were flying on his discount?”
”Visit Disneyland Paris,” I muttered.
”As his complimentary guests.”
”As his complimentary guests,” I repeated. Okay, in a dog-eat-dog world it made sense. When offered hugely discounted plane tickets, Madame Chavotte and our parents could not very well look a gift horse in the mouth and refuse the additional ”offer” of free admission to Disneyland Paris. But surely there would be some kind of loud, unarmed rebellion? Certainly we did not intend to go quietly into that good fright?
”Bonnie? Do you realize we have to go to Disneyland today?” I asked.
Bonnie was gazing dreamily into her mug of green tea.
”Yeah, man, of course! I've always wanted to see Sleeping Beauty's Castle.”
Bonnie, G.o.ddess of the New Age, Channeler of Universal Intent, Communicator with Angels, had always wanted to get closer to...Sleeping Beauty's personal residence?
”Janet?” I asked. She looked up from the Paris guidebook she was immersed in.
”J'aime bien le Teacup Ride!” she squealed. ”Is it time to go?”
I was outnumbered. I was defeated. Unless I developed a sudden case of appendicitis, a la Madeline, I was going to Disneyland Paris. The Land of the Wee and the Home of the Knave. Realm of the Simple Tourist.
Oh. The Humanity.
EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT.
DISNEYLAND PARIS BUT WERE AFRAID TO ASK,.
ACCORDING TO LILY M. BLENNERHa.s.sETT:.
MOST VOMITATIOUS RIDE: s.p.a.ce Mountain BEST INSTANT CONNECTION TO CHILDHOOD: Bonnie running toward Captain Hook's Pirate s.h.i.+p in a decidedly Tinkerbellian fas.h.i.+on BEST PICTURE: Charlotte clapping hands over eyes outside Phantom Manor and feigning horror WORST SCHEDULING DECISION: Consumption of chili dog and extra-large fries twenty minutes prior to boarding Indiana Jones and the Temple of Peril Ride MOST EMBARRa.s.sING MOMENT: Too many to specify NUMBER OF SLOANE RANGERS SPOTTED: Nine LEAST USEFUL ARTICLE ACQUIRED: Three-foot-high stuffed Donald Duck won at arcade by Lewis INTELLECTUAL PEAK: Spontaneously recalling seven miscellaneous facts about the Gold Rush while strolling through Frontierland TIMES SEPARATED FROM GROUP: None!
NUTRITIONAL ACCOMPLISHMENT: Consuming Mickey Mouseshaped lollipop measuring nine inches in diameter in under seven minutes VISITS TO LADIES' ROOM: Fourteen (three for hand and face was.h.i.+ng only) FRENCH WORDS SPOKEN: One (if ”ooh-la-la” counts) MOST IRRITATING INCIDENT: Janet insisting on calling Sleeping Beauty's Castle Le Chateau de la Belle au Bois Dormant MOST TERRIFYING SIGHT: Bud and Chaz trying to flirt with Snow White MOST SOBERING MOMENT: Madame Chavotte boarding the Dumbo ride behind Tim IMPORTANT LIFE LESSONS LEARNED: See ”Worst Scheduling Decision”
PARISIAN GEMS AND NUGGETS RECORDED: Zero I dozed off once or twice during the train ride back to Paris. Jet lag, it turns out, has absolutely NOTHING on Disney lag. For someone who'd allegedly spent the entire day in recreational activities, I felt like a swimmer who'd just doggy-paddled across the English Channel. My overfed stomach was pooching out against the waistband of my jeans like I'd swallowed a beach ball. At least Jake wasn't around to see that. My feet throbbed. My eardrums hurt. And I seem to have left my sense of balance back on s.p.a.ce Mountain, because every time I closed my eyes, I felt my head spin.
But I will admit in secret, Dear Readers, that I kind of enjoyed myself.
Janet was chattering away to Bonnie, who was listening with what appeared to me to be a Profound Level of Tolerance. Charlotte had somehow acquired a copy of The Wall Street Journal, but she seemed to be finished reading it. At least I a.s.sumed that was the reason she was holding the paper on her lap and staring at me for great lengths of time.
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