Last weekend I spent a few glorious days in sunny California, specifically Disneyland. The trip aligned perfectly between two of Michael’s really looooooong trips to Belgium, so the decision was easy to gift myself a few relaxing days away (without my children) when Casey asked if I wanted to accompany her on a conference trip.
Normally I would pass on such a “frivolous” weekend away with friends, but given our (my) current stressful situation of moving abroad and my husband current intense work calendar, a few day of respite sounded amazing and justified.
So I packed my bags and went to Disneyland, leaving my four kids behind in gloomy Indiana. (best. mom. ever.)
You guys, not to rub my good fortune in your face or anything, but it was nothing short of magical. We hopped parks till late in the evening, spent lazy afternoons lounging at the pool, and I think I read 3 books in a 72 hour period.
Sure, one hundred time over I wished my kids were with me to experience the sights and sounds only Walt Disney can create, and I promise I’ll bring them back someday (next stop, EuroDisney), but this particular adventure was just for me.
One of the most unexpectedly awesome moments of the trip came at 7:15 am on Friday morning. The park does this thing called “extra magic hours” where only guests staying on property in a Disney hotel can visit the park. Basically, for one beautiful hour, the park is seemingly empty. And never wanting to miss an opportunity, I got up early and by myself and headed to the park to get on some of the good rides without having to wait in an epic line.
I bolted to The Tower of Terror, a ride that puts you in a haunted hotel elevator and plunges you to your death. Apparently I was the only one in all of California with that wake-up call.
You guys, the ride was empty. Like, I was the only non-worker in the whole tower (and can we discuss for a second how seriously the Tower of Terror employees take their jobs?). I mean, the ride is particularly creepy to begin with, but then couple that with being the only person on a ride that typically has up to a 90 minute wait, and I was about to mess my pants.
When the ride finished up, the dude running it asked me if I wanted to stay strapped in, because he would be more than happy to just keep the ride running for as long as I want. Over and over again…
Nope. Nope. Nope.
Once was enough, and I got the picture to prove it.