Category Archives: fun

Disneyland + The Mother = Long Shot

You ever get asked to participate in something and think to yourself, “Sure. Sounds fun. I’ll do it.”  Knowing all along it isn’t going to work?

Obviously, it’s a sign, the second you hang up the phone the Vegas bookies start running the numbers and setting the odds on the various outcomes of said adventure.  You and the bookies are fairly certain the event will have a dubious ending.  You proceed, caution flag raised proudly, you’re already wearing  hip waders.  No stopping now.  What the hell.

Yep, that about covers the trip to Disneyland with The Mother.

A few weeks ago, I had a business trip that took me from east to west coast and I worked in a quick visit to see The Mother in between meetings.  I was looking forward to exchanging cold weather for hot sunshine.  Little did I realize, I was trading snow for the “storm of the century” listening to the weather forecasters of LA.  Although, having the opportunity to drive in torrential downpours was something I haven’t had the chance to experience since I left Miami.  It was a pleasant reminder of Mother Nature’s many talents.

During my visit to southern California, The Mother  had one thing on her mind.  In the past, usually she wanted to go to a particular restaurant or a local venue of some sort.  Nope.  Not this time.  Determination was set on a new target.

Disneyland.

Apparently, unbeknownst to her, having lived in the desert for over three years, Disneyland is basically  a stone’s throw away from her door step.  Relatively speaking.

To verify, this accuracy, The Mother checked with MapQuest, AAA, the neighbors Tim & Susie across the street who frequently drive the highways and as well as with the local grocery checker at Albertson’s supermarket.

So.

If you’re a rolling stone.

In good weather.

With a decent tail wind.

Jump on the I-10 and head west out to the wild west…to the land of the Great Mouse.

Throughout my trip, The Mother had a mantra… “don’t do anything that would hamper missing the day’s adventure to Disney.”  Roger that….going to see The Mouse….got it.

Our plan was to depart first thing Sunday morning.  Day trip only.

My only request was we MUST depart early, because The Mother would definitely need an electric scooter due to all the walking.  On a previous visit we went to the local zoo.  Unfortunately, they don’t have motorized scooters thus we rented their version of a standard wheelchair.

Not quite a normal wheelchair.

Not quite a a wheelbarrow.

It was more like an adult bucket seat push cart.

I nearly killed myself trying to push that plastic contraption in the desert heat.  There’s a reason wheelchairs are made from fabric, not plastic! Mind you, I am all of 5 foot 1 an a sip of water on a good day.  I was sweating like a sumo wrestling champion sitting in a sauna.   I probably left a sweat trail like a slug leaves a slime trail.

Gazelles? Missed those.  I was laying under the tree over here, panting like a cheetah trying not to let the sweat sting my eyeballs and turn my mascara into a ghoulish creep fest. But hey, let me in to see those dwarf goats.  I’m just going to sit with them for a while and communicate with them baaaaccccck to the mothership.  I digress…..

We needed a motorized scooter for Disneyland.  If I had to elbow my way through the crowd to get a scooter, by God we were getting a scooter.

Before bed, The Mother looks up the weather for Anaheim and it’s to be cool with an 11% chance of rain.  I figure that’s a high percentage of rain for California.  I say if she doesn’t want to go, I’m okay with that.  Best not to be miserable and we can go next time.

The Mother hesitates for a moment.  Nope.  We’re going.

I go to bed, knowing….you know how you just know?  You just know in the pit of your stomach.  This isn’t going to go well.  Trust the gut.

You know you can’t talk someone out of something.

No matter what you say.

You could tell them they’re going to throw up on their shoes.

They want to go.

You could tell them they’re going to be miserable.

They want to go.

You could say 400,000 people will be there.

They want to go.

You could say it isn’t really what they will want to do.

They want to go.

You could say, this is going to make my /your eyes bleed.

They want to go.

You could say, this is going to be a disaster.

They want to go.

Why fight the process.  It’s easier in the long run.

To just go.

The day of our big adventure arrives and our plan was to depart at 7:00AM.  I am awake early due to stupid jet lag and do not hear The Mother stirring.  Silently, I think, maybe we aren’t going…..

At 5:50AM I hear The Mother yelling through the door, “Donna, are you getting up?”

 

Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines.

I get into the shower and proceed with the morning routine.  When I get myself pulled together, I go out to the living room….there’s heavy fog outside the window and grey skies.

As I am putting my shoes on, I say to The Mother “You know, this is your last chance to back out. The weather doesn’t look so good with the fog today.”

She is surprised I suggested we not go.  What do you mean?  Of course we’re going!  After all, there’s only an 11% chance of rain.

Alright then.  Coats, sunglasses, jackets, lip balm, purses etc…..let’s go.

Two hours on the road in and out of rain showers and sun spots, we arrive to Disneyland.  The mecca of fun, happiness, laughter and of dreams that come true with the sprinkle of magical fairy dust with Mickey Mouse leading the way.

It’s starting to drizzle again.  But over that way, the skies look clearer and certainly it will clear up.  We agree, the shower will pass.  It just isn’t supposed to rain at Disney right.

Of course.

The first parking lot’s ADA area is filled, so we  traverse the lot like a drunken snake towards the exit with a neon pink exit sign flapping like a flamingo under our wiper.  This indicates to the Disney parking attendants we’re aiming to exit like mice in a maze looking for cheese….so they don’t continue to point us into a parking spot.

As we’re making our way through parking area,  a family is literally walking down the middle of the aisle.  Not a care in the world.  Why should they – it’s Disneyland!  Their minds are filled with memories from the last time they were here, where they threw up,  where they lost Billy, how Mary got ejected from the water ride because she thought it was a wet t-shirt contest and how they can’t wait to see their favorite characters.  They’re excited.  It’s Disney.

Did I mention?

Patience is a virtue.

Three.

Two.

One.

“You think these people would get a clue and move over.”  Advises The Mother.

 

Yep….as I continue to creep along behind the family.  “Well, this is how it’s going to be today.  Lots of people.  Lots of lines.  This is Disney.  You know, it’s not too late to head home.  Now’s the time. Last chance.”

Nope.  Not changing our mind.  We’re going to the other parking lot.  We’re going to Disneyland.

About 15 minutes later, we make our way to the Toy Story lot, park and make our way aboard the shuttle bus to the entrance.

NOTE: For those that have experienced any Disney park, you know what it’s like….the shuttle buses, security screening, ticket purchase and entrance lines…..all within the main entry area.  This is where we’re located.

By 10:00AM we’re through security and head over to the far side of the entrance gate to get in line for the electric scooter.

It continues to drizzle.

We get The Mother signed off on an electric scooter for $70 and head back to the ticket line, where she decided to wait off to the side while I venture into the serpentine line for our day passes.  Not long after being in line I start to hear, “DONNA!” (Can’t be for me,   right?  Ignore.  Ignore.) More people begin shouting, “DONNA!”  I look up and at the front of the line….there’s an arm flailing above the crowd with a flapping hand attached.

The Mother.

The Mother waving at me.

…..along with the crowd shouting my name, “DONNA!”

Good lord.

I start to duck under the rope barrier.  Excusing myself  along the way…

“Sorry, that’s me….I’m Donna.”

I get up front to The Mother….” What’s going on?”  I’m thinking maybe she played the ADA card and got our day passes some magical easy way without waiting. I mean this is Disney, anything is possible.  Right? The Mother says, “Let’s go.  I’m not waiting in line for this.  There’s too many people.  It’s raining and I’m not paying this price. It’s so disorganized.  Do you want to stay for this?”

Nope. I nodded my head.  Looked at my watch 10:37AM.  Knew it. Okay, let’s go…..

On the way back to the car in the shuttle, The Mother asked if I was mad….as she pinched my cheek, no less. I told her sometimes you can’t talk people out of things they want to do, but I knew we’d end up going home.   It’s kinda like going to the dentist and getting a shot of Novocain, which you don’t want to do in the first place.  But you take the shot and as an added bonus….you get to talk funny afterwards!

 

Alright then. Who placed the bet for: 37 minutes at Disneyland’s entrance?

 

And yes,  I was able to get a full refund on the electric scooter.

 

 

 

 

 

Riding the Hog – Final Chapter

Disclaimer: If you haven’t read the previous two blogs on my Riding the Hog adventure, it may serve you well…so you have the whole story.

Morning came all too early. About 5:30 I was awake and refused to get up. As usual, I snoozed and dozed like a cat until I MUST GET OUT OF BED.

7:30AM – here I come!
Our departure time was 8:30AM.

I leap into the shower and throw on my jeans and shirt.

Grab a cuppa cuppa coffee – fully leaded, none of that creamer shit.

Do my hair and put my eyebrows on.
Some women won’t leave the house without mascara. I don’t leave without my eyebrows.
Seriously.
I have very little in the eyebrow category.
Which actually works to my favor.
Some days I can have ANGRY EYES and other days suspicious eyes.
Depends on which way the pencil goes.

I make one last pass over myself in the mirror.
Blot the make up one last time as it’s already warm out.
Lipstick on.
Got sunglasses.
Adjust my boobs.
Take two giant swigs from my flask.
Yep. I came prepared.
Vodka – 8:20AM
Perfect.
Pee.
Wait, one more swig……

I race upstairs, lace up my heeled boots and we’re out the door.
Walk outside and cue the theme music.

Note: Some times my theme music is the Imperial March from Stars Wars. You know when Darth Vader https://youtu.be/-bzWSJG93P8 shows up in the scene. (It also sounds suspiciously like CBS Evening News theme music from 1990, odd.) Other times, it’s Tinkerbell fairy music and then every once in a while it’s something else.

This morning, I had George Thorogood music….Bad to the Bone will do just fine. https://youtu.be/_7VsoxT_FUY
LOVE HIM!

Hell yeah!

I swear that Harley was glowing under a spotlight.
It was shiny.
And glittery.
And dark purple.
And beautiful.
And B I G.

Good thing I wore the boots with the heels.

Is it too late to get my flask?

Okay, so first things first.
How do I get on this beast?

No worry, hop on, let’s get some pictures! Image

After a handful of photos, I hop off. Grab a helmet and get ready to go.
My Biker jumps on.
I’m left with the dumbfounding question: Ummmm yeah, how do you want me to get on here exactly?

One foot here on the pad.
Stand up.
Throw your leg over.
Sit down.
Tah-dah.

When you get off, get off on the left, so you don’t melt your boot into the exhaust pipe.

Noted: left, left, left, left, left, left, left.

Dear God, please don’t let me make an ass out of myself.

I do as instructed and get seated.

Luckily, I don’t have time to worry about my next concern.

Remember when I mentioned I’m not a touchy feely kind of person….in the previous blog?

Yeah, well. I had been worrying all week about where to hold on.

You have no doubt seen the girls wrapped like a pretzel around their biker.
Yeah, not so much me.

I don’t see any real hand holds.

But I had no time to think about it! We were off like a shot up the steep driveway. It was like being shot out of a cannon but different.

So as we take off, I grab my Biker’s vest. Low and behold, the sides are laced up!
I’m easily able to literally grab the back portion of his vest.

Whoo Hoo! No awkward where to put my hands moments!

Whew. Okay.
Still too late to get my flask?
Well, it wouldn’t have mattered, I didn’t have anywhere to put it besides the saddlebags on the bike or my bra.
I kept some money and my phone in the bra.
It’s the perfect little pocket.
However, not big enough for a flask.

We’re zipping down the highway and it’s amazing.
Fields.
Trees.
Houses.
Everything racing past.

The wind was loud in my ears and I thought:

THIS
IS
FABULOUS!

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Bump.
In.
The.
Road.
Reaction: My knees immediately clamped down on my Biker’s hips. I was trying to crack that man like a walnut.

If I was busy looking at the scenery and not watching where we were going, when we down shifted….because it surprised me….guess what?

CLAMP
DOWN
THE
KNEES.

My Biker would reassuringly pat my leg. We’re okay! We’re not going to die. You’re fine.

Bless his heart, I swear, he was lucky if he didn’t come out with bruises.

I’m loving the ride. We would turn corners and I would lean as he would lean.
It was like flying….but much closer to the ground.
It was being free.
And exhilarating.
It made me laugh.
I LOVED IT.

Of course, as we’re zipping along, I noticed, every once in a while, something wet would hit my cheek.

I chalked it up to morning dew.

Rain sprinkles maybe?

But it kept happening.

Okay, what’s the deal with my wet cheek?
This is really odd.
At a stop light I reach up and touch my nose.

OMG – my nose was running!

Okay, hazard #1 of being on the bike!
Get out the hankie! Or your shirt….whichever you have handy.

Okay, that’s our secret. I’ll know for next time.

Our music was perfect. AC/DC. LOVE THEM!
One song after the other, I’m on the back, singing along.
Thunderstruck.
Highway to Hell.
TNT
Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap https://youtu.be/whQQpwwvSh4
Excellent choice for the early morning ride.
In heaven.

We arrive to the meeting point of the ride and get into the ride line.

We pay our donations, wander around, people watch, greet old friends, look at tattoos, see the outfits, applaud the veterans.

You see, this was a fundraiser for Wounded Heros.
Last year they had 600 people participating.
By the time the group had gathered, dedication announced, prayers said and the local police gave us the instructions for the ride, there must have been close to 800 riders.

What’s really cool….when I gave my donation….they gave me a patch!

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When I get my Vespa, I’m totally putting this on my vest!

For nearly 800 riders, there were 7 police, also on motorcycles, who came from across the state to escort our group. That speaks volumes about these people. This group could have easily taken a team of 7….but is simply wasn’t even in anyone’s thoughts.

Our cops rocked. They were fantastic. Funny, upbeat and excited to be there. They had a sense of humor. Their job was to block the intersections as we came through. They would also be first available to help anyone who may have an accident. They were beyond words – WONDERFUL.
Simply amazing.
Everyone for a common cause.

Riding for veterans.
Enjoying a great morning ride.
Ooooooo-ga-ling awesome bikes.
Ooooooo-ga-ling awesome women.
Ooooooo-ga-ling awesome tats.
Ooooooo-ga-ling awesome men.
Snarking out on the ridiculous outfits. (of course)

Before we got into the ceremonies, we jumped into line for the Port-o-Potties. I’m thinking, I would rather jump behind a tree, but I don’t see anyone making for the bushes, so I figured best bet is to follow the Bikers. Don’t want to upset some unwritten law.

When I get into the john. All I can think is…..

1. Dear God, who actually puts the seat down in these things? Don’t touch more stuff!
2. Dear God, please when I lift seat, DO NOT let something come flying up from the muck.

Note: This is a fear of mine. Some sort of Hiney Monster is going to get me.

3. When did they start installing urinals into these things?
4. Is that gap in the door frame supposed to be there for ventilation?
5. Thank you for the hand sanitizer…..and the mirror.

Really?

Still would have been happier with a tree.

I’ve already had a great ride – longer than the main fundraiser ride – to get here this morning.

Now we are in line and preparing to hit the road.

Fear not. I’ve wiped my nose, so we’re good.
I’ve added sunscreen as I am starting to get crispy.

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Finally, it’s our lane’s turn to go.

WOW!

People stopped along the road to wave at us.
There were kids waving.
Adults waving.
People saluting to the gang of motorcycles driving past.
Standing out holding the American flag.
Cars honking their horns.

I’ve never, ever, experienced anything like this before.

They were excited to see us.
We were excited to see them.
My Biker would “rev” his engine.

We passed by a fire house.
They were on our right.
They had extended their ladder, with the American flag hanging off the end.
A firefighter was all the way at the top, waving and waving.
And they were blowing their horn as we passed.

Had I known….I would have been ready to take a photo.

It.
Was.
Amazing.

Truly amazing.

Our destination was a biker bar, “Bentley’s.”
All I knew about Bentley’s is there was a pig I needed to ride.

We are escorted through the campground and arrive at giant parking lot.
Our bike is one of hundreds upon hundreds here for the event.
Heaven forbid I get separated and can’t find my way back to THE bike!

Not 40 feet off the bike and we encounter a wonderful godsend.
Buckets of Bud.
Yes, Please.

Wander inside the gates.
Wow.
Biker Heaven.

Everyone and I do mean everyone….is looking everyone else up and down.
Did you want me to spin for you?
Blow a kiss?
Sit in your lap?
Smack your ass?
Smack my ass?
Okay, just tell me the protocols.

Something you don’t encounter every day in Boston.

So Mrs. Biker made sure I made it to the gift shop – to get my Bentley’s shirt. While it may not show off my cleavage as well, nothing a pair of scissors cant fix, it has glittery sparkly shit, so I’m thrilled. I also think I should have bought the boy shorts. They had numerous shorts all in black, with various announcements across the ass.

The one I liked the most:

“Quit imagining me naked!”

I am thinking I should have bought those. Although, wearing those, wouldn’t leave much to the imagination. Hence the, “Imagine me naked” concept.

Out the door that went.

I should have bought those shorts.
Yes, this is a regret.

You know what happens with regrets?

Damn it. I need to go back…just to get those shorts!

So I bought this and that. Next thing I knew…..it was time.

Time to get on the pig.

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I’m thinking, next time, that pig needs a feather boa.

I had full intentions of getting on the pig. But mind you, it’s not something you aim for upon arrival. I probably would have ridden that pig backwards if we were there longer. However, time was of the essence and I had to climb on board.

Funny thing, when you approach the table where the pig resides, people clear a path.

Need a hand getting getting up on the bar table? No problem! Plenty of hands to assist.
Don’t mind me.
Excuse my butt.
But yes, that’s part of it.
Butt and boobs.
Whatcha got?
Top off?
Nope, not drunk!
I know it’s still light out – it’s summer.
Not a tiny tittie on this chicky to be seen!
Let’s ride this pig!

There were whoops and hollers. – hey, someone has to go first.

What a wonderful way to spend a summer day in Maine!

Bikes.
Bikers.
Babes.
Beer.
Boobs.

If someone could have taken my photo —- as we cruised down the highway, they’d see me with my arms out to my sides…..enjoying the wind caressing me like a dove’s feather.

Needless to say, I can’t wait to go again.
Is Biker Ornament a profession?
I could do this!
I’d need more leather.
Watch out!