The trees along the banks of the springs at Blue Springs State Park in Central, Florida.

It is no secret that I love Disneyland.  It’s my happiest place on Earth and all that, but there are things at Disneyland that bug me and as such they should be addressed to keep me, er, the paying guest, happy.

1.  Grumpy cast members.  No, not Grumpy the dwarf, but actual people that work at Disneyland that are unpleasant.  Granted, this doesn’t happen often which is probably why it makes such an impact when it does.  Nothing stands out like a weed in a field full of flowers.

2.  Grumpy guests.  Again, not the dwarf.  Sure, Disney would be hard-pressed to alter the grumpy guest, but who the hell yells and curses in Disneyland at A) their kids, B) their spouse, C) the soon to be grumpy cast member.  If I wanted my kids to hear foul-mouths and anger I would take them to a Raiders game.

Ice Cream at Disneyland

3.  Crowds.  Yes, this is rather obvious.  Nothing is more frustrating than trying to navigate your family through a bunch of other people trying to navigate theirs through yours.  To an extent this is expected and taken with a grain of salt, but here’s a secret- some of those crowds are created by Disney.  They like to mess with perception and it’s annoying.  They’re already getting my money so knock it off.

4.  Smoking.  If you are going to go to the trouble of banning smoking and creating large and lovely smoking areas then please enforce it. If I wanted my kids to inhale a cloud of smoke and ashes I would take them to a Raiders game.

5. Pin traders.  Somewhere between the hobbies of stamp collecting and pigeon fancying sits the pin trader.  At first glance they seem harmless enough, just a group of people taking up all of the shade-covered seats outside the eatery, but don’t even think about asking to use one of their many empty chairs so that your wife and children can actually sit down for a moment.  That’s when the claws come out.  Those chairs are for their customers- other pin traders, most of which are sitting at shade-covered tables around them amid a sea of empty chairs.  Disneyland is not their personal eBay store, contrary to their popular belief.  Pin traders are directly responsible for many a grumpy guest- see how this is all circular?  The Lion King was right.

6.  Little Rascals. Not Alfalfa and Buckwheat, but the guests that use scooters to maneuver the park.  Obviously most people on a scooter are not doing anything wrong, but there are those (you know who you are) that try to weave in and out of traffic on their scooter like it’s rush hour on the interstate.  A scooter is not made for weaving, or speed for that matter.  And then there is the horn.  Seriously, a freaking horn?  There is a special place in hell for the honker of the scooter horn.

7.  Stroller Derby.  We use a stroller at Disneyland.  It’s the only place we use one.  The crowds are too big and the scooters too fast for kids to be wandering around aimlessly all day.  Plus, it’s a great place to keep your stuff.  However, pushing a stroller does not mean that you are any more important than anyone else.  It does not mean that you are allowed to cut people off, bump their ankles or double-park in front of Peter Pan.  This does not make one a good parent, it makes one an ass.

8.  Ride closures.  On our last trip we stood in line for 5 different rides that broke down before we got to ride them.  Sure, it’s better than actually being on them when they break, but 5 rides in one day?  That’s a lot, isn’t it?

9.  Photo prices.  Disneyland is getting my money.  I know this when I walk through the gate, just like I know the house is getting it when I stumble into Vegas. I accept it.  However, it would be nice if I could stretch it a bit further before it goes.

Disney has a great service where they take your photo throughout the park and then you can purchase them later… for 15 bucks.  What?  It’s a damn digital print.  You can print those out for less than a dollar at Target.  Sure, someone else took the photo, but I’m not sold on their skills as a professional photographer.  It’s not like Annie Leibovitz is spending her weekends in front of the castle.

There is also the option of buying the photos online when you get home- just in case you weren’t quite done spending money yet.

$15 is a tad high.  Maybe two tads.

Old Friends United

10.  More character opportunities.  I remember a time when the Disney characters were everywhere.  They roamed streets and restaurants and brought an element of magic and surprise to the day.  Now they are in certain areas with huge lines, which isn’t a bad thing, but it loses something.  Characters were born to be free and to work the streets of Disneyland like their own cocktail party.  Keep the set lines with the select few, but put the rest back into the mix.   One quick glance from a favorite character goes a long way.  Who knows, it might even ease the grumpy guest.

So that’s it.  Nitpicking? Perhaps.  Doable?  Maybe not.  To be honest I’d settle for a ban on horns… and maybe a churro.

We Plunder.

Photos by Whit and Tricia Honea

Ask Miles Davis. Ask Louis Armstrong, Dave Brubeck or Gene Simmons.  Yes, that Gene Simmons.

Ask millions of people, two mice and me. Disney is more than you think. Yes, there is magic in the air, that’s a given.  And there is childlike wonder and troubles forgotten. There are smiles and sighs and moments of pure joy. And through it all there is romance.

Flowers in Disneyland

Just go with me here.

Surely, Walt must have known what he had created. He must have strolled those streets and understood what he had done. The lands of Disney, lit by stars and lanterns and backed by an endless soundtrack of memories and promise, are pure romance in its most innocent form.

Of Mice and Moments

Miles Davis knew this.  So too, Louis Armstrong, Dave Brubeck and Gene Simmons.  Yes, that Gene Simmons.  That’s why you’ll find the songs of Disney in their respective canons.  They bought what Walt was selling and in turn they peddled it themselves.  Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs and there is nothing wrong with that.

You get lost here, in the Happiest Place on Earth. You let yourself go.  In quiet moments your mind wanders to dreams and smiles and the girl on your arm, and you find yourself, as I did, on one knee beneath the shadow of fireworks, kneeling at the base of a castle surrounded by streams and beds of roses and bated moments of silence.

Planned Spontaneity

The longest moments live between knees and yes.

It is a place of magic and fairy tales.  There is a hope of possibility in the air and it engulfs you with every breath. For a brief time the lines between your life and your dreams blur and become one. You are drunk without drink, and it spreads with rapid and loose abandonment.

It is as if you have been picked up out of the cubicle of daily routine and placed in your favorite movie, alongside dreamers, stars and champions. It feels right. You belong. Everything you did before your arrival was but a stepping stone to get you here. To get you to this moment. You are reminded of the plans you once had and who it was that you thought you would grow to be.  And maybe you are, if just for a moment.

Perhaps you spot a Princess out for a stroll, deep in thoughts of kingdoms and ballrooms. Perhaps you spy your hosts sharing a private moment away from their guests. They too can feel it. It is not the romance of lust and the meaningless fancies that fill our daily lives between commercials for Las Vegas and lingerie. It is the romance of knowing that there is good in this world and that you want to share it with someone, even if it is just holding their hand across a moonlit bridge. It is the magic of promise for better days and the righting of wrongs. It dares you to imagine what life should be and encourages you to make it so.

It is family, like Walt intended, if such a thing can be considered romantic. I like to think that it can.

Fearing the Fireworks

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For more on the Happiest Place on Earth please read the following:

Disney’s California Adventure in Anaheim, California – Family Fun

Pressed Pennies – The Ultimate Disneyland Souvenir

Disneyland Family Vacations: The Happiest Place on Earth

7 Secrets You Might not Know About Disneyland

Things I Learned at the Disneyland Resort – A Thursday Thirteen

Family Imagination at Disneyland, California

All photos by Whit Honea, Tricia Honea or some Cast Member with my camera.

Big Sur Highway 1

Part I of On the Road in Big Sur can be read here.

We greeted Saturday morning at the crack of 9:30, washed up and made the short walk up to the Lucia Lodge restaurant, closed to all at this hour except lodge guests. We toasted some bagels, grabbed coffee and fruit salad and a couple of hard boiled eggs and went out on the deck that overlooks the lodge grounds and the ocean. Mornings are always chilly in Big Sur, but with sweatshirts we were quite comfortable in shorts. The sun was already breaking through as we perused one of the free Big Sur Guide newspapers and contemplated how to spend the day.

Big Sur offers everything from hiking the 167,323 acres of the Ventana Wilderness to camping, hunting and fishing or just relaxing on one of many beaches. We decided on Pfeiffer Beach for its “breathtaking stretch of sand” and “large arch-shaped rock formations” and picked up a couple of sandwiches at the Big Sur Center Deli some 20 miles north on Hwy 1 (did I mention the Lucia Lodge is pretty isolated?) next to the Big Sur Post Office and planned to picnic. We got one pastrami, and one fresh roasted turkey sandwich. Both came with a pickle spear and were reasonably priced ($4-$6) given their girth. We could have easily split one sandwich and been more than satisfied.

The guide paper informed us that locating Pfeiffer Beach can be tricky if you’ve never been. You have to find unmarked Sycamore Canyon Road. Here’s the tip: it’s the only paved, un-gated road west of Hwy 1 between the Big Sur Post Office and Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park. Be warned that this is a very narrow, winding road, rather bumpy and pot-holed in some stretches. Do not attempt to negotiate this road with a trailer unless you want to risk getting yourself stuck and angering a lot of other drivers.

Pfeiffer Beach is as promised; long stretches of beach, breathtaking arch shaped rock formations and towering cliffs. What the paper didn’t happen to mention was that it can also be like visiting a sandy wind tunnel. The wind coming off the ocean whips around those arch shaped rock formations and right down that sandy stretch of beach. We found shelter on a large rock about 200 yards down the beach and endured the discomfort of our craggy seat long enough to eat lunch. Many people were braving the cold and enjoying the ocean but we decided against it, content to walk in the surf watch the kite fliers and spot seals. There was also a refreshing lack of seagulls though I can offer no reasons why. Anxious to continue our exploration we let the wind carry us back to our car.

“Exile on Main Street” pounding from the speakers, bright sun and blue skies flecked with white clouds and a brand new Mustang convertible, top down, roaring up Hwy 1. It doesn’t get much better. Hwy 1, and Big Sur in particular, offers some fantastic photo ops and the amateur shutterbug I call my wife was anxious to try and capture some of its beauty. We spent a good few hours driving up and down Hwy 1, stopping every few hundred yards so she could snap more photos. Though I’m not personally that interested in photography I was more than happy to oblige and give the Mustang a chance to sprint. Numerous turnouts allow for plenty of scenic views and some fantastic shots, however you may wish to confirm weather reports prior to planning a drive because the fog will often obstruct the coastal beauty. Fortunately the sun was on our side and my wife happily snapped off dozens of shots, some even with me in them.

Andrew Molera State Park has what the guide paper described as “a sandy beach…sheltered from the wind by a large bluff…”.  We were still in a beach mood and shelter from the wind sounded great so we pulled off to check it out. At the ranger kiosk the young man informed me of the $8.00 entry fee. I had expected this but having just paid $5.00 for a 45 minute visit at Pfeiffer Beach I wasn’t very willing to part with more of my dwindling cash supply. I pointed out the ticket we received at Pfeiffer still taped to our windshield, hoping the fact that we’d already paid one beach entry fee might gain us access to another. Apparently Pfeiffer is federally owned by the U.S. Forest Service while Andrew Molera is a state owned park. As such, each is entitled to charge an entry fee. Annoyed by this display of governmental gouging, we decided to begin the long trek back to Lucia and make dinner plans.

Nepenthe Patio

That morning a fellow continental breakfast-er had told us about a restaurant called Nepenthe, which is about (yes), twenty miles north on Hwy 1. We were informed that while the food was just “OK”, a better spot to sight whales and watch the sunset could not be found. We simply “must go”.  In fact, all of her friends in LA had told her that she simply “must go”. To ignore such resolute counsel would have been misguided, boarding on reckless, so go we did.

In the future I must remember to lead a more reckless, misguided life. OK I’m kidding. Our fellow lodger was correct in that the food was OK. I had the Ambrosiaburger (my eyes were instinctively drawn to it having been denied one the night before at Whale Watcher Café and the fact that at $13.00 it was the cheapest thing on the menu) complete with their famous “Ambrosia Sauce”, (mayo, green chili salsa and tomato sauce). My wife, already having decided to lead a more reckless life, opted for grilled scallops wrapped in prosciutto ($32.00) followed by the Four Layer Chocolate Fudge Cake ($7.50). While everything was delicious, as you’ve probably already gathered, what you’re really paying for is the view and by the time the bill arrived we were treated to a bright red sun melting into a thick blanket of clouds which slowly turned a dazzling hot pink, all the while spreading like whipped marshmallow across the darkening Pacific. Don’t forget your camera.

Back at Lucia Lodge we occupied one of the benches at the edge of the cliff near our cabin. Darkness had fallen and we were forced to rely on our other senses, enjoying the  cool winds coming off of the ocean and the sound of waves crashing at the base of the cliff below us. Later that evening, back in our cabin we enjoyed some wine and those good books and slept well. Sunday arrived far too quickly but the 11:00 AM check out time allowed us to linger over our coffee on the lodge deck. We watched the fog roll silently over the grounds, obscuring the foot path back to the cabin and our waiting Mustang, sitting patiently in anticipation of her final run up Hwy 1.

All Photos by Lisa Romano Except Nepenthe Courtesty of Nepenthe.