With three days and hundreds of dollars behind us, we finally left Orlando.  By this time, Mike had already grown a strong addiction to Robitussin, or when times got tight…Wal-Tussin.  I’m not sure why that’s relevant, but it was amusing to see him drinking about a bottle a day of the stuff.

We headed back to Coral Springs, which would take some getting used to, because there you couldn’t randomly happen upon a roller coaster.  I think.

Obviously, suburbia isn’t nearly as noteworthy as a giant carnival posing as a city.  However, we did manage to make this day the best out of the entire trip, due to a magical place.

Yeah that’s right suckers, Orange Julius.  I used to enjoy this beverage on a routine basis, until the stand got shut down.  Now there are no Orange Juliuses near me, because the Massapequa Mall is a giant dump, and can’t bring in enough customers to keep a splendid business thriving. 

Not only did this stand contain Orange Julius, but also a Dairy Queen.  I didn’t get anything there, but I enjoy a bit of the DQ once in a while.  “Once in a while” being approximately every five or six years, which was probably the last time I was there.  I have nothing against the place, except maybe their choice of Dennis the Menace as a spokesperson.  I figure my biggest problem with that is their budgeting.  Dennis the Menace, for some very unknown reason, is a classic character.  He’s been in movies, TV, the works.  This is all very puzzling, because the strip is not funny, save for maybe good old “close to death” Mr. Wilson.  Point is, since Dennis the Menace is a “classic,” licensing him must cost a lot of money.  They could have done a lot of better things with that amount of money. 

For my money, I would have gone with Plus and Minus from “Pinwheel.”  Or maybe the snail guy, Silas.  That wouldn’t run them more than about $3, and the rest they could use for opening shops that smell less like urine.  Or more, depending on whatever weird kink the surrounding neighborhood has.

The malls in Florida are insane.  One of them has this huge outdoor area, which really looks like some sort of Universal back lot.  Only not raining.  Actually, they’re not ridiculous, I’m just jealous of not being able to go to my mall and get Orange Julius, Subway, and churros all within a 20 foot radius.  Although that was two years ago.  Since then, the churros stand has closed down.  Yet another example of people not knowing what is good for them, and what they need. 

We decided that the area surrounding Adam’s house was too nice, and we needed to get in touch with our urban roots.  I don’t remember what the place was called; it was some terrible amusement park.  We went there because it had been too long since we had been severely under whelmed by one.

They had a “special,” where you paid like $15, and were privileged to go on all the rides, and play all the video games.  Apparently I missed the fine print, where it said “All the rides that aren’t good, and all the games that actually work.”

The best part of the park was the Go Karts.  I don’t know if the people in this area couldn’t afford cars or what, but there were a lot of people here; only the elite members of society, it seemed.  Although we were there right along with them so I guess I have no room for mocking. 

Just like in real cars, annoying people on the Go Kart track is astoundingly fun.  Only much less dangerous.  People ride go there to zoom through the open air, rocketing towards the finish line at about 20 MPH.  I prefer to drive about 2 MPH, confusing and aggravating those passing me.  Hey, there is never an excuse for sacrificing safety for speed.

From there, we went to the main part of the amusement park.  The last time I was here, I went on one of those things where they attach you to a thick strand of yarn, bring you up about 150 feet, and let you go.  I enjoyed that.  Unfortunately, that wasn’t included in the wonderful $15 package.  I don’t think there were any rides open we actually could go on, except for one.  Another driving ride. 

In this ride, you drove in ridiculously small cars or trucks.  The tiny size wouldn’t be too much of a problem, if the actual car wasn’t enclosed.  Instead, you drive around in a pimped out clown car, trying not to cramp up.  This was the last ride we went on; although that shouldn’t reflect too badly on the clown cars, there just wasn’t anything else to go on.

Inside was a huge room filled with hundreds of games, and I’m willing to bet at least twenty of them worked.   

All good things must come to an end, but this trip had to as well.  Although for once, something was in the air besides rain… 

Romance.

That’s right; you could feel the love in the air as we drove by Vows Wedding Chapel.  Scratch that, not a wedding chapel, a “wedding establishment.”  Ordinarily, things like this aren’t too strange.  Sure, they’re odd, but Las Vegas has hundreds of these.  However this is in the middle of semi-normal Florida, weird stuff like that is expected in Vegas.

The big draw of Vows is its drive thru.  Or as they like to call it, “The Tunnel of Love.”  Wow.  Call me an idealist, but I just can’t imagine a scenario where I would be in that much of a hurry that I couldn’t take the twenty minutes to have the wedding inside the building.  Although I’ve never been inside, so I can’t say what’s in there.  If the drive thru is the main attraction, what could there possibly be inside?  I’m assuming some vending machines and a hell of a lot of brochures for lawyers, which will come in handy about a week down the line.

Vows is even smart enough to put a sign right next to the Tunnel of Love, because they are right to assume anyone going there is most likely drunk out of their mind and could easily miss it.

And why?  Why is a limo waiting outside?  That just does not go together, quickie drive thru weddings and luxurious limousines.  Taking a limo to the prom is overkill.  This… I just don’t know what this would be considered.

We shook the stars out of our eyes, and left Vows.  Next stop: the airport.  This should be a fairly easy last step, because even though airports can contain some annoyances, there’s usually not too much out of the ordinary going on.

 Wrong.  Wrong.  Wrong!

The day before the flight, Josh couldn’t find his wallet.  After about two minutes of looking for it, he decided it was gone for good.  He had to call the airport, because you can’t get on a flight without a picture ID.  The representative on the line told him he would need to go to the police station and get some forms and reports and all that.  About five minutes later, the wallet was found.  In a sock.  Whatever.

So going into the airport, we had to have been red flagged like crazy, due to our attempts to get onto the flight without ID.  Surprisingly, the baggage check wasn’t a huge hassle.  Then came the metal detectors.

For some reason, I was chosen for the ultra probing check.  First they went through my bag, which I’m sure was pleasing for all involved.  I got to stand there, with my belongings being rooted through.  The security got to look at my Game Boy and candy.  They even dusted my bag to make sure it wasn’t lined with gunpowder.  I’m surprised nothing showed up, because this backpack came with me on a lot of bus trips on the Long Island Metro Transit Bus Driving Authority.  Or something like that.

Then came the shoe fiasco.  For some reason, they decided that I was one of the most suspicious people in the airport.  Apparently there were memos going around warning security to be on the lookout for awkward, effeminate looking people with bad haircuts, and camera bags that looked like a purse.  So they asked for me to remove my shoes.  There I was, standing in my socks, as people snickered, happy with the fact that it wasn’t them.  This whole scenario wouldn’t have been too bad, if Josh wasn’t dead set on not letting us get on the plane.

He already tried to have us kicked off by alarming security because of his ID.  He figured if that wasn’t enough, he would do the next best thing:  take a flash picture of them examining my shoes. 

I have never seen such a swarm of people move into immediate reaction.  Within about half a second of the flash, Josh was completely surrounded by security, and other related people.  I was still standing there in my socks, at an utter loss for words.  All I remember was seeing Josh take out his camera, saying “I don’t think you can do that,” then the flash.  At this point Mike had walked approximately eleven miles away from us, doing his best to get away from this scene. 

Finally, after security deduced that Josh was just stupid, and not a terrorist, he let him go.  The best part of this?  The picture didn’t even come out.  The flash reflected off all the metal, and completely ruined it.  If he took the picture with no flash, it would have come out, and this scene would have been avoided.  Bah.

We then waited about four hours for the flight, because everyone always insists on being perversely early for plane trips.  I passed the time by drinking probably the worst Chai tea that has ever existed.

After a successful second day, this was the day that would make or break the trip.  Either two out of three bad, or two out of three good.  And despite the more than obvious Meatloaf reference, there’s no way in hell I’m going there. 

Things weren’t looking to good from the start.  The sky was gray, and the place was pretty abandoned.  Except of course, at the first attraction in the park… Terminator 2: 3-D.  I was looking forward to that, since I enjoy the movie, and have heard good things about it.  However, this was apparently where 85% of the crowd had flocked, so we moved elsewhere. 

We wandered around the back lot area for a bit, still amongst not too many other people.  Certain areas of the park seemed like you shouldn’t even be there, since no one else was around. 

Finally we came upon some activity.  This area drew some attention due to the easiest way to get the crowd pumped: costumed characters. 

I’m not sure if there ever is a point in a person’s life where they are completely comfortable around these characters.  As a kid, you’re scared to death of them.  The mascot is standing about three to four feet over you, looking at you from blank eyes.  They never say anything, although that’s not really their fault.  Instead of the chattering, loveable character a child sees on TV, they are greeted by a monstrous, silent beast. 

I’m not sure what the scenario would be as an adult.  Of course you would need kids to get anywhere within twenty feet of the characters, or you will be viciously glared at by the surrounding parents.

As for me, the situation is just as bad.  I am old enough to know that there’s a person in the costume, but not old enough to think that the character isn’t still cool.  Actually, I probably am definitely old enough for that.

If I look uncomfortable in these pictures, I shouldn’t.  I should look really uncomfortable.  When we saw the characters roaming around, I knew I had to get pictures.  I wasn’t sure how weird it would be, because I hadn’t dealt with them in quite a while.  Standing next to them feels ridiculous.  Here is probably someone around my age, just trying to make some money.  They don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with this crap.

Even Dr. Doom of the previous day knew I was a geek who liked comic books.  I don’t know what Spongebob or the Man in the Yellow Hat thought of me.  I’m sure I don’t want to know, either.  They probably figured I was some drug addict who watched cartoons while eating White Castle, which would be a fairly educated guess based on my clothing. 

I’m sure the Man in the Yellow Hat loves his costume.  There’s nothing like walking around on stilts while children race around you, threatening to topple you at any moment.

I still don’t know who could be inside the Curious George costume.  He’s too small to be an adult, and hiring a child isn’t allowed.  In fact, there is only one person who possesses the skill to dress up in costume to entertain both children and losers like me.  That’s right, Kenny Baker has found work.

Soon we found ourselves at the Men In Black Ride.  It’s pretty obvious that Universal has discovered the magic combination that kids love: aliens and drive-by shootings.  The premise of the ride is something about aliens, and you have to shoot them.  Granted, that’s not too specific, but I believe that is actually all the background information that is given.  Another bit of information is that two cars leave at the same time, and go on different, but similar, tracks.  After about three or so minutes of shooting aliens from your car, you find out if you beat the other car.  What makes this good is that you find out the results from Will Smith.  Listen closely when I tell you this.  Being congratulated on my victory by the Fresh Prince himself was the best moment of my entire life.  Now, that may make my life sound quite pathetic, and maybe it should.  I don’t care.  Bagger Vance himself.  Or was Matt Damon Bagger Vance?  I didn’t see the movie.  I don’t think they should have even dignified the losing car by having Will Smith even talk to them.  That task should have been delegated to Carlton. 

Apparently 24 hours is as long as you can go in Florida without pouring rain.  Therefore, the previously gray sky was now still gray, except now it was unleashing furious rain.  I wonder if these poncho salesmen make commission.  If so, I might move down to Orlando and start quite a nice career.  The poor guy didn’t even have one of the ponchos on for the first 15 minutes he was walking around in the downpour.  His management must have figured that it’s not good salesmanship to insinuate that the product you’re selling isn’t good enough to use yourself.  Although I doubt the validity of that possibility, as I don’t think anyone there cared what they were wearing so long as it blocked the rain.  Kids were wearing garbage bags; apparently their parents spent all their money on turkey legs.  Yes, they were everywhere here as well.

Ah, the beautiful Florida sky.  WHAT THE HELL IS WITH THIS STATE?!?  I used to go to Florida a lot as a kid, and I don’t remember this kind of weather at ALL.  I have a distinct picture in my mind of Florida as a sunny, warm, and beautiful place.  And even if that vision is somewhat clouded (ugh, no pun intended) over time, it’s still a long way off from being able to sum up Florida in two words: gray and wet.  Has no one alerted Orlando’s Chamber of Commerce?  Actually, I don’t know what a Chamber of Commerce actually does, but I think it’s important.  I may be confusing it with the American Legion, but I’m pretty sure that’s just the place that gives out free hot dogs on the 4^th of July. 

This weather has to hurt tourism in some way, and something needs to be done.  And don’t go giving me any of that “no one can control the weather” nonsense, because that is just not true.  Disney can.  They certainly have the money to put a dome over their park.  Sure, that would be a hideous and rather monstrous eyesore, but who would complain?  No one dares meet with Disney’s disapproval.  Universal could just take the tourists who don’t need a domed park that day, such as the one day a month the sun can be spotted.

It might seem rather odd to be wearing sunglasses in this kind of weather.  However there is perfectly good reasoning for it, going well beyond my Corey Hart fetish.  They serve as a mini windshield for my eyes, so I can look up at the sky with scorn and disbelief, without stinging my corneas. 

We grumpily trudged towards another attraction, next on the agenda being the ET ride.  I’ll be perfectly honest; I hate ET.  I hated the movie, it was boring.  And did anyone see the cover of Entertainment Weekly that reunited ET, Elliot, Drew Barrymore (whatever her character’s name was,) and Steven Spielberg?  Elliot looks exactly the same, just sort of bigger and stretched out.  He has turned into some sort of overgrown Garbage Pail Kid.

Despite my disdain for the movie itself, and my memories of not liking the ride from when I was here as a kid, it was something to do; and this park was rapidly running out of new things to try.  First problem with the ride: they ask you for your name, and input it into your “passport,” so ET can personally say goodbye to you.  This part of the ride I was looking forward to, because the car held about eight people and I was looking forward to ET rattling names off like a Speak and Spell on crack.  However, we went through the whole ride, no greetings.  Maybe every other car gets greeted, I don’t know, I felt scammed.

I’ve got to give it some credit; the line for the ride is quite atmospheric.  You begin waiting outside, but then proceed inside into an indoor forest.  I would go camping more often if the real forest was like this, air conditioned and incomplete.  I guess they ran out of money in this ride’s budget, as the trees stop halfway up. 

Of course, it’s easy to run out of money when you have to spend quite a bit licensing what must seems to be a thesis statement from Ben and Jerry.

The premise of the ride is that you need to save the aliens, because they are dying.  I think.  Who cares, really?  I didn’t pay much attention to the plea given by the president of the aliens, despite that he wielded a stick containing what appeared to be a novelty bowling ball with a rose inside.  These aliens have a thing or two to learn about marketing. 

Here’s a tip: if you want to ask for something, or want help…be attractive.  It works wonders.  That’s why I don’t get any free stuff, I need a spokesperson.  This old alien just doesn’t have the panache any more.  Glowing sticks and Christmas wreaths around your neck can only go so far.  Actually very far, but still… there is a limit.  

The beginning of the ride is fairly dull, as you fly over scenes from the movie.  Remember, dull movie = dull ride.  Universal knew that, that’s why the last part of the ride makes up for its bad beginning.  It makes up for any flaws in the entire park.  It makes up for all of Florida’s faults.  This is because the end of the ride, for no reason, is nothing but an absolute acid trip. 

The entire last leg of the ride becomes “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds,” or a live action version of the “Yellow Submarine” movie.  Not that I’m complaining, if you’re going to get ideas from the Beatles, these are two of the more interesting sources.  It certainly beats “Yesterday: The Ride.”   

Since neither ET nor the Beatle’s are likely to draw in the urban crowd, there are even appearances by “Fat Albert” characters.  Look, there’s Dumb Donald right over there.

After this, we sat outside for a little while, trying to come down from the massive contact high we obtained from the ride.  From there, we meandered into a fairly quiet section of the park which turned out to be some sort of bizarre temple dedicated to Barney the Dinosaur. 

Barney gets a lot of undeserved hatred.  I’m a big fan of Barney.  Well not anymore, but when I used to have to watch my brother when he was about five, it was a lot easier to leave him in front of the TV than to pay too much attention.  Barney is a way better babysitter than I am.  He’d probably be a better parent, as well; I’m sure he has a much better sense of fiscal responsibility than I do.  Probably the toughest question is whether he or I have a better chance of actually having kids. 

From there we entered the land of Curious George.  This area had a lot of potential, as I absolutely love monkeys.  I am obsessed with them, they are my favorite animal.  I probably like looking at pictures of monkeys more than I like hanging out with actual people.  Anyway, as an obvious equation, if I like monkeys, I like Curious George. 

I was going to write a whole paragraph about how I actually hated the Curious George books.  However, I then realized that I really liked them.  I was confusing them with Paddington Bear.  I despised him.  I might be looking back in anger because he has a much higher quality raincoat than my $6 poncho.  I don’t think that’s the only reason, I really do remember hating his books, even as an easily distracted child.  Also, he likes marmalade, and marmalade is disgusting.

This sign spells trouble.  If they have to go to the trouble of making a sign and a trail to tell you how to escape the rain, the weather must be horrible here all the time.  I later realized that sign is there because on the days it is sunny, once every leap year, the area is something of a miniature water park.

Since we were indeed trying to stay dry, we followed the path.  The path led us off to the side of this tiny town.  It looks rather nice, doesn’t it?  Peaceful, happy, and somewhat English.  Looks can be deceiving, mind you.  In this case, they flat out lie.  Inside this building, there is pure chaos.

Inside the building is a real time re-enactment of  “Lord of the Flies,” except with adults present.  The adults aren’t there to supervise though, they are there to unleash hell on little children.  The second floor consists of mounted guns, meant to fire at the people on the first floor.  The first floor contains cannons to fight back.  All of this weaponry fires balls from the ball pit, which may seem harmless, but as the saying goes: “guns don’t kill people, ball-firing mounted assault rifles kill people.”  Or at least sting like crazy.  I wasn’t hit directly, but rather got mildly clipped on the way out.  No one likes a quitter.  Especially not the adults in the pictures, who are hurling balls at their offspring, or other people’s offspring, letting out any tension from grudges built up over the span of their children’s lives.  I don’t even think I am doing justice to describing what it was like in there.  Unfortunately, the thesaurus contains only a limited amount of synonyms for “insane.”

We had reached our breaking point, and had tolerated enough of the rain.  We decided to take the long way out of the park, revisiting out last spots we visited already.  We went back to the Jaws area, because Adam and Mike had an inexplicable craving for funnel cakes.  I guess it’s understandable and all, funnel cakes are good, it just seems like a desire that would normally require at least a small intake of narcotics.

While they got their food, Josh and I checked out the fierce competition at the water gun booth.  It would require something special to give us the courage to take on the high stakes challenge in exchange for valuable prizes and glory.  Luckily for us, that something special was right under our noses.  What we needed was a foot massage.   However, would that be enough?  I knew that the massage would have to come from someone special.  Someone mischievous.  Fortunately for us, upon closer inspection we discovered this was Woody Woodpeckers special chair.  Only a quarter, such a deal! 

I was the first to try this device.  I must say, calling it a “foot massage” might be leaving a little out.  It seems to be missing the part about violently shaking your body to the point of pain.  After enduring this, I convinced Josh to go on it using the “wow this is horrible, you have to try this” form of advertisement.  He had a similar reaction to me: epileptic shaking and a hard time standing right after. 

Our situation had taken a severe turn for the worse.  In our current incapacitated condition, there was no way we could compete.  Our minds were quickly changed when we saw the prizes: stuffed Spider Man dolls.  I figured my odds would be increased if I had another person on my side, so I paid for Josh under the condition that if he won, I got the prize.  I might look into a career as a politician.  Never doubt my ability to cover all the bases.  I lost miserably, I wasn’t even close.  However, who came out on top?  That’s right, Josh.  The prize was all mine. 

However, tainted victories deserve tainted prizes, and I received them in spades.  My Spider Man was flawed. 

 FLAWED!

Still, my motto has always been a dirty Spider Man is better than no Spider Man.  To the victors go the spoils.

To the psychotic looking people go the temporary victory pictures.  But no prizes.

On our way out, Josh and I tried nobly to convince the rest of the party to go back to Islands of Adventure so we could go on Spider Man again, but to no avail.  Our walk out wasn’t without any interest, as we happened upon the bus used in the Beatles’ “Magical Mystery Tour.” 

I don’t know how it happened, but apparently my camera severely malfunctioned and took the wrong picture.  Instead of a picture of Josh and I, somehow we were replaced by a terrorist and a Muppet.

We made our way out, and were on our way back to the car.  During the trip one thing became very clear, people are lazy.  The walk from point A to point B is about twenty yards, why does that have to be done for you?  Universal spent thousands so people would have the privilege of traveling at a quarter the speed they would normally walk. 

On the way back to the hotel, we stopped off at one of the higher class markets in Orlando.  Oh, what surprises awaited us in here! 

They make sure to stock plenty of Vienna Sausages, as we all know people just can’t get enough of that Vienna goodness.  This brand even includes “Free Bowling,” whatever that means.  It is either a promotion with a very obtuse prize, or some sort of political rallying cry.

Hey, if they’re good enough for Universal Studios, they’re good enough for everybody.

Spent a little too much at the theme parks?  No worries!  You can buy ramen noodles for the low low price of just 50 cents.  Or, upgrade to the special offer of two for a dollar!  Jeez, if the product is going to be named after a slang term for drugs, at least don’t make it seem like you’re actually under their influence while making the sign.

The rest of the day was rather calm, as we headed back to—

 OH… MY… GOD!!!!

There it is! It’s Castle Grayskull!  Of course the question of why it is in Orlando rather than Eternia is raised, but then that question is soon answered with the all purpose “who cares?”  It’s CASTLE freaking GRAYSKULL.  For some reason, and this will haunt me until the day I die, or return to Orlando… we didn’t go in. 

Everyone has their one major mistake that just stays with them.  Bill Buckner has game six, Clint Eastwood has “Every Which Way But Loose.”  I have Castle Grayskull.  

Looking on the bright side, I now end the Orlando trip on a down note that is my own fault, rather than the weather’s.  The eternal optimist, that’s me.

Islands of Adventure, arguably, I was looking forward to the most.  I had never been there, and had heard nothing but good things.  Also they have fifty foot comic book characters nailed to buildings.  That’s a formula for success. 

The day got off to a rocky start, starting with the line to get in.  We didn’t need to purchase tickets; we had them already, so we only needed to give them to the clerk.  Unfortunately, we ran into the magic combination of an inept employee, and scummy tourists redeeming free tickets at the turnstile.  So we wound up being on the line for quite a while.  The line next to us was moving quite rapidly, thanks to an all star clerk who also happened to be three and a half feet tall.  That guy was doing twice the job as our clerk, in half the size…that’s efficiency.

Eventually, we got into the park.  The first strip of the park is inexplicably some Aladdin style street.  I’m not sure why it was themed that way; it didn’t fit in with the rest of the park at all.  As true geeks, our first destination was the Marvel comics island. 

Our first ride was the Incredible Hulk roller coaster.  The wait for this is something quite amazing.  If you ever wondered what it would be like to be inside your skull during one of the worst headaches you’ve ever had, this is it.  While you wait inside for the ride sirens blare, lights flash everywhere, and dozens of TVs play an introductory cartoon.  Unfortunately for the last part, almost none of the TVs are synched up, so you get to hear the same dialogue thirty times, all slightly off time from each other.  For a major attraction, the line wasn’t too long, at least.  This was one of the rides at the park where you could use the equivalent of Disney’s Fast Pass.  I think it was called the Express Pass, but I don’t want to look it up, so we’ll go with that.  It makes no difference, since we waited on the regular line with the rest of the peons.  The best part of the ride is, without warning, you accelerate to about 60 MPH out of nowhere.  After that, it’s a pretty standard Six Flags type roller coaster, which is still a good thing.

We initially had a pretty quick pace for the park; I guess we figured we had to do as much as possible before it started raining like the day before.  We headed over to probably the most popular ride at the park, Spider Man.  The line for this ride was long, and it would be throughout the entire day.  Luckily, they had an option that allowed you to wait a lot less time, the Losers Line.  They referred to it as the “Single Riders Line,” but it winds up being almost the same thing, rides for people who are alone. 

The theory is, if a family of three gets into a row that seats four, there will be one extra seat.  One person is then taken from the Single Riders line, and placed into that seat.  It’s a pretty novel idea, actually.  This line works out well for two main groups of people: people with no friends, and people like my group.  We figured it’s not like we would be talking or hanging out on the ride itself, so we may as well split up and save an hour’s worth of time waiting.

The sign makes no two ways about it; you are hereby a second class citizen on this line.  If you don’t like it, you can feel free to walk your friend-having ass back to the normal line.  “Used to fill empty seats.”  I feel like one of those people at the Oscars, who sit down when someone famous has to go use the bathroom or freebase cocaine in the limo.   

The line is right next to the room where they wash the 3-D glasses.  Apparently the crowd at Islands of Adventure is a filthy, sweaty, disease and germ carrying lot.  Now, I’m not the type of person to touch the flush handle of a public toilet with my hands rather than my foot, or to eat food off the floor if I don’t know how long it’s been laying there.  However, I really don’t care if my glasses are clean or not.  I’d like to say I can’t envision people sucking on the rims, or chewing on them or whatever, except I did the same thing when I was waiting on line.  I guess I can’t pass up putting some fresh, clean novelty eyewear in my mouth.  Look at the size of these things, not only are the guests here filthy, apparently they are all from Easter Island.  Apparently that’s what the Universal Board of Directors feels the average tourist here looks like: big headed and dirty.  They have definitely spent too much time with their caricaturists.  

Armed with my steamed, oversized, and teeth mark riddled glasses, I faced the Spider Man ride….alone, of course.  The ride itself was amazing, a great combination of visuals and a fun ride.

Like I said previously, exiting a ride and entering a themed gift shop happens all the time at theme parks.  I can’t complain here though, Spider Man is something every real man should like.  But I like him as well.

In this gift shop, I came upon the possibility of making my first theme park merchandise purchase, a black and white Spider Man shirt.  Surprisingly, the choice wasn’t as clear cut as it normally is.  See, I am the worst person in the world when it comes to holding on to money.  It’s as if I have some form of allergic reaction to possessing it, and need to get rid of it as quickly as physically possible.  Budgeting is something I just can’t do.

Obviously, if you’re going to a trip that involves three theme parks, you’re going to lose a lot of cash.  For most people, if they are able to finish the trip and still have money left over, it is a success.  Me?  I consider it a good sign if the trip ends and I haven’t had to resort to shoplifting food and drinking water out of the hotel ice machine’s filter.

Vacationing was so much simpler when you were a kid.  You could mark how well the trip was going to go by whether the “Archie” digest was a regular or a double, and how many “Yes and Know” books you got.  Unfortunately, pretty soon you finished all the good stuff in the “Yes and Knows,” like the maze and hangman, and were stuck with the presidential trivia.  And pretty soon all the good Archie stories would be done with, and all that would be left were the two part “mystery,” and stories that revolved around that stupid girl that could smell money.  Penny.  Speaking of the mystery Archie stories, I never understood those at all.  Were they supposed to be part of regular Archie continuity?  If so, why did Mr. Lodge hate Archie so much?  It seems like every week Archie is saving Mr. Lodge’s fortune, or rescuing Veronica from kidnappers.  You’d think Mr. Lodge would be happy to have him around.  Although I guess he showed his appreciation for Archie by rescuing him from, no joke, a guillotine.  Some of these stories were messed up.  Even those stories were at least readable, but God help you if you got stuck with the Puzzles and Games Archie digest.  Those things were complete scams.  There were maybe two stories in the whole thing, and the rest was filled with junk like “Pop Tate’s Menu Jumble.”  Ugh.

Getting back on track, I didn’t buy the Spider Man shirt.  I liked it, and it actually wasn’t too much money.  I just didn’t want to be one of those people who would walk around with “Universal Studios’ Islands of Adventure” written on my back.  Although I was the kind of person who would walk around with comic book characters on my front, so I’m not sure exactly where the line is drawn.

From the Marvel Island, we moved into the comic island.  This area was filled with awful comic characters, from “Gasoline Alley” to “Blondie.”  I’m not going to use quotations around things anymore, cause they’re annoying, and I’ve probably already missed a few anyway.  But I’m sure I’ll forget to stop later on. 

It’s not that I hate Blondie; it’s just a terrible strip.  I do respect Dagwood though, he really is living my ideal life.  He wises off to his boss, makes huge sandwiches with obscure condiments, sleeps all day, and let’s face it…his wife is hot.  I guess Blondie isn’t so bad after all.  But there were still a LOT of terrible strips represented here.  Such as the worst strip ever…..

That’s right.  Family Circus.  Don’t even try to deny it; this strip is 360 degrees of hell.  I hate it too much to even go into detail.  Check out Timothy Olyphant’s rant about it in the movie Go, that sums up my feelings about it quite nicely.

The next ride we went on was some Dudley Do Right log flume ride.  I don’t know if that’s spelled right, and I also don’t know what the name of the ride is.  All I know is you can see this building for miles.  We saw it from the car, wondering what the hell it was.  It is a monstrous, purple-shaded shack.  The ride is basically Splash Mountain, released during Easter time.  Everything inside the ride is bright and pastel colored, for absolutely no reason.  Surprisingly, we didn’t get that wet, except Adam.  What’s interesting about that is that he’s not me, so I was quite comfortable as we got out.

Next we headed into Jurassic Park.  This was definitely the most underwhelming of the islands.  There could have been so much more done with it, but all that was there was a kid’s ride, a log flume ride, and a Triceratops…but we’ll get into that in a bit.

First was the log flume ride, where you float around and see fire and robot dinosaurs.  First, like I said before, anything on a boat in the water is going to be good, so it had that going for it.  It also had dinosaurs.  How could it go wrong?  At the end, a big T-Rex pops out and yells at you, and you go down a fall.

Going into the ride, Adam said you never get wet on this ride.  Bastard.  Apparently the previous day’s rain raised the ride’s water level about a foot.  Therefore, all of us got completely drenched.  Nothing is worse than wet hair gel drying into something of a thick layer of lacquer. 

We were now miserable, and needed to be cheered up, so it was time for the best attraction in the park.  It was time for the best attraction in the world.  That’s right, the Triceratops Encounter.  My family had went to this park about a year earlier, and told me about this debacle.  They could not have said enough about this, in fact they didn’t, as I was still in shock by how terrible this was. 

The Triceratops Encounter

All of us knew about the badness of this attraction except for Mike.  We thought it would be funny to build it up so it seemed like the best attraction in the park, while waiting on the line.  I’m not sure who the joke was on.  We waited in the line for probably 30 minutes, and we knew that it was bad.  Yes, we knew it was bad.  But at the time, we didn’t know what an abomination it was.  The entire attraction consists of waiting in line for a half hour to an hour, standing in a jungle setting.  Then when it’s time, going into a room and seeing a Triceratops in person. 

Let me tell you, not even finding out you were adopted for the sole purpose of tax deductions can compare to the letdown you are faced with.  This dinosaur is not realistic in the slightest.  It looks like the ones you see in children’s museums.  There’s even a “scientist” who is clearly ashamed to be part of this, probably wishing he was dancing in a Captain EO revival.  At least when dressed as a theme character, you don’t have to look the customers in the eye, and meet with their accusing glare.

They try to make the dinosaur more authentic by having it go to the bathroom, but it’s not realistic.  It is just very awkward.  You can even see the track its feet move on.  This whole mess is less realistic than the claymation dinosaurs in that old movie “Dinosaurs” with Fred Savage. 

That comparison should be quite humbling for the stupid Triceratops, as Fred Savage hasn’t had the most storied career.  He somehow managed to peak with “The Wizard,” which in itself is shameful.  After that, the only noteworthy work he’s done was that NBC movie where he plays the violent half of an abusive relationship with DJ from Full House.  I assume this role was somewhat true to life, based on occurrences that happened after “Little Monsters” was re-run on TBS, or one too many people asked how Winnie Cooper was doing. 

After this garbage, we headed to the next island.  I don’t know what the actual theme of it is, I think it actually is just “adventure.”  This island had the second roller coaster, Dueling Dragons.  The theme of it is it’s two roller coasters that fight, or something.  One is fire, one is ice.  That seems like a stupid concept, because in a fight between fire and ice, we know who is always going to win. 

The ride is pretty good, nothing stupendous, but interesting.  The most interesting part is being in the front row, where it seems you are going to collide with the other roller coaster.  I worried that if two especially tall people were in the front, they would hit, because it seems like you’re only about three feet apart.  Apparently you’re much further apart, but if it’s close enough to seem like you are going to collide, that’s probably a solid enough argument to win a lawsuit.

After this ride, we ate lunch.  The restaurant was really nice inside, it was supposed to be a cave, I think.  The menu had some really good stuff, unfortunately half of us were looking at the wrong menu.  The man outside gave us double sided menus, apparently the sides were for different restaurants.  Luckily I wasn’t the first one at the table to order from the wrong menu, so instead of being wrong myself, I just joined in the mocking.  I wound up getting a dumb chicken sandwich.  Although that is better than spending $8 on four shrimp, like Josh.

After the meal, we headed into another abomination of an attraction, some Poseidon adventure.  I don’t even want to talk about this thing.  It is a college drama student’s dream job, all it is is overacting, and over emoting.  There’s a bunch of fire, and water, and light effects and all that hoopla.  Unfortunately it all adds up to a huge load of compost.

We needed cheering up after this, and we knew where to find it: back at Marvel island.  Luckily, the man himself was there…Dr. Doom.  Not only did I get a picture taken with him, I also got to hear him call Mike a “retard” for screwing up this first picture.  I was able to crop out the thumb, so I wound up with two pictures, since I took another one after the first messed up.  I’m not sure what I’m doing in the first picture, it looks lewd.  I guess I thought it was a really good idea, since I do it again in the second.

We then went on Spider Man again, and the Doctor Doom ride.  The Doom ride is fun, basically it’s a tall pole than you shoot up on, then it shakes you up and down.  The flight up is pretty scary, cause it goes so fast.  Being up that high is also really scary, because all you can really think about is whether or not the people that maintain this ride graduated high school.

After this we took the challenge to partake in an adventure only the most bold and daring would endure.  Based after the X-Men character Storm, it was a ride about how you had to go into this contraption in order to defeat their arch-nemesis Magneto.  And what is this risky device?  Tea Cups.  I like tea cups though, I’ve been so sick from them, and have made many people sick.  As long as that ratio is 50/50 I’m fine with it.  Unfortunately we didn’t realize until after that it didn’t matter how fast you spun the wheel, it went the same speed.  Damn modern technology limitations. 

This ride was in the same spot as the Hulk ride, so we figured we might as well pick up an Express Pass for it and come back.  But no, we wouldn’t be doing that.  Why, you ask?  Well Universal knows being away on vacation can make you homesick, so they took a small part of your home life, and brought it here. 

The Blue Screen of Death.  Not even hundreds of miles away from your PC is a far enough distance to escape this.  It is an accurate replication of my home PC usage, and at least one of the display models at every Staples.

Seussville is just ridiculous.  Dr. Seuss must have been a complete acid dropper, there is no other explanation.  Was he even a doctor?  I might look into that, there seems something terribly amiss about a legitimate doctor writing tales like these.  Maybe he was a psychiatrist; they’re not real doctors anyway.

Another photo opportunity was here, the opportunity to take a picture with the big man on campus, The Cat in the Hat.  Also those blue haired things.  1 and 2.  I don’t know why, but for some reason during the shot, Mike decided to grab the Cat’s thumb.  Somehow, the Cat is able to convey an expression of surprise, disgust, and anger, all at the same time.  And through a stationary, fuzzy mask.  Amazing.  I also have no idea what he’s doing with his other hand.  Man, there are kids around.  Save it for later.

Back to the “adventure” island we went, to ride the third roller coaster.  This one wasn’t as impressive as the other two, but we weren’t expecting much.  Not when the average rider was four feet tall, and the car was supposed to be a magical unicorn.  I hate unicorns.  The ride would have been approximately a billion times better if it was the big dog thing from Neverending Story.  You know it, I know it, Atreyu knows it.  Not that it would fit this park any better, it would just be way more entertaining. 

This ride wasn’t fun, but we knew that going in.  I think we were seeing if the added weight of four adults would make the car fall off the tracks.  I guess we weren’t thinking far enough ahead that if that actually did happen, we could die.  But that is definitely the most interesting way I could possibly go out, at least for now, so it seemed like a win-win situation.  Except for the ride itself.  That was a loss.

Corkscrews on this ride?  Not if Bastian has anything to say about it!

Never let it be said that big theme parks don’t care about the environment.  Look, a recycling can.  They even go far enough to separate it into bottles and cans.  Although upon further inspection, we discover they both lead to the same canister. 

I can’t come up with a single reason why they did this.  And why is the bottle slot shaped like a bottle, but the can slot shaped like a book?  Nothing about this stupid thing makes sense.  Screw recycling.  Everything just goes in the garbage.  It’s simpler, and you don’t have to deal with mind boggling situations such as these.

Our day was beginning to wind down, as we had lapped the park quite a few times by this point.  We headed back to the comic strip area, because when we were there before, the PEZ store wasn’t open yet.  Unfortunately the store sucked, there was only one small PEZ section, and the rest of the store was just prepackaged trail mix with the Universal logo on it.   

Placed sporadically throughout this island were comic speech bubbles.  Here you can live out your wildest fantasies of having anything witty to say.  Unfortunately, that isn’t even true.  Since this is a family park, gone are the punch lines involving racism, sexism, making fun of the disabled, or obscenities.  What we’re left with are verbal duels such as these.  I got burned pretty badly in the first one.  You see, when I asked what my best side was, the answer I was expecting would have been “left,” “right,” or something of that ilk.  Instead, I got dissed and dismissed by Adam, who implied that my inside was the best, because my outside is so unappealing.  That was a good one.  Quite the appropriate time to blush, I must say.  Pinned to the ground by this vicious attack; ruined by a single word.  But foolish be the man who thinks I will lie still after such an assault.  In fact, I was merely playing possum, readying my blistering comeback. 

In response to Adam’s rhetorical question, I surprised him by actually answering with the available option!  We decided that if this continued, neither of us would be able to go home standing, and ended our sparring with a respectable tie. 

 I then had a chance for a monologue, because while these two bubbles seem like they are meant for two people, there was only room for one person.  Unfortunately, due to the poor picture taking, the bubble is coming straight out of my mouth, like the Red Meat comics where the artist’s son draws the strip.

At this point we started to get a bit hungry, but our appetites were immediately lost upon seeing this.  There are so many things wrong with this, where do I begin? 

Let’s start with the fact that one of the biggest themes of the Cathy strip is that she has eating disorders.  Why would they decide her best license for this park would be an ice cream stand?  Secondly, that pose.  Nothing is less inviting than that.

Oh no! Rain! 

Well, not quite…it’s just the magic of the movies.  Although that might just be at Universal Studios.  Here it’s the magic of Beetle Bailey, or something to that effect.  It’s similar to the black magic that is the cause of that strip still being printed in newspapers.  Regardless, today was relatively rain free, which was spectacularly fortunate.

Before exiting this wonderful area, we stopped for photo ops with America’s least favorite dog.

We headed over to Seussville, because we were beginning to regain the grip on our sanity, and needed the reigns to be completely loosened again.

 Now, common sense would tell you if you name a product something disgusting, people will not buy it.  If you market a lemon drink named “Dog Piss,” people will be so disgusted they will flee in horror.  Right? 

Wrong.

Case in point: Moose Juice.  They had two flavors of this vile concoction, Moose and Goose Juice.  I decided to get the Moose, and Mike got the Goose Juice.  As sad as it is to say, I got the better end of the bargain.  Mine was bad, but Mike’s was awful.  It was apple flavored, which is one of those flavors that is so rarely good, it’s, umm…  Bad, I guess.  Hostess apple pies are good, though.  As long as Hostess is the big one piece pie, and not the one that comes in two pieces, but I think that’s Drake’s.  I don’t like those.

Mine was probably meant to be tangerine or something.  However, this is the first thing I have ever had that actually tasted neon.  Look at the cup, it’s glowing.  Unfortunately, the picture of my reaction was so marred by the sun, it was unusable.  Regardless, it can be summed up easily: 

Our time at this park was at an end.  We made out way down City Walk, which is basically Pleasure Island but with less possibility of seeing an intoxicated actor dressed as Donald Duck staggering around without his character head on.  I must say, it was a lot of fun.  Especially compared to the day before.  Where Disney is best for kids, this park is best for other people.  Kids too, but also olders.  That’s not a word.

On the way home, we encountered this suspicious fellow.  Of course… a man walking around with arms filled with parrots.  Why not?  I’m not kidding, Orlando really should just be considered its own country, with its own set of bizarre laws and immigration standards.

 That night, we decided on a meal that was more formal than last night’s Taco Bell drive thru.  Therefore, we opted for…Mexican Food.  At least it was a sit down restaurant.  I can’t believe I forgot to, but I didn’t take a picture of the table right next to us.  Instead of bringing all the garbage and dirty dishes all the way back to the kitchen, they were piling them all on this table.  I couldn’t wait to eat.

Before the food comes the booze.  The food would taste a lot better when I wasn’t completely aware of what it was or what was in it.  While that is probably the case with most foods, it definitely applies towards Mexican cuisine.  I went with Margaritas, because they’re big, and don’t look overtly feminine.  Adam went with some sissy peach drink.  Some day he might grow into a real man, and move on to a real man’s beverage…

The EARTHSHAKE.

This wonderful drink is marketed as a glass of mud, covered in dirt and worms.  If you’re wondering why this is so alluring, refer to my explanation of the Moose Juice tomfoolery. 

Josh and I both ordered it, but as you can clearly see Josh is a floundering moron.  He removed the worms.  That completely vanquishes the visual appeal of the drink.  Half the quality is in the aesthetics.  It’s not as much fun when you realize it’s just a milkshake with Oreo crumbs and gummy worms.  Not even gummy worms, bright sour worms, I hate those things.  Since they describe the drink as such, I think much hilarity would ensue if they occasionally brought out a drink actually made from the specified ingredients of dirt and worms.  You know kids would still drink them, just to bring waves of shame to their parents.  I have also learned that it is impossible to take pictures of yourself without looking completely flamboyant. 

After the meal, we retired to our room, which, for some reason, had this.  The sign says to depress the button.  We could have just gone on about Disney World, that would have probably worked.  The sign doesn’t actually say what will happen after you press the button.  I can only imagine what hellfire would result if you pressed that button while being perfectly un-disabled.  Maybe the button is meant for people who aren’t already handicapped, but need to be in order to receive a discounted rate.  Probably not, I can’t imagine a hotel known for crippling its guests being very popular with the tourists.  I think that’s why Howard Johnson’s do so poorly.

I don’t even know where the handicapped aspect even came into play with our room.  The bathroom wasn’t accessible; it was way too small to fit a wheel chair.  No ramps, Braille, or buttons to press that announce, “THIS IS THE FIRE ESCAPE.”  I also can’t imagine crippled people being very handy with a pull out couch.

Now it was time for rest, our last park still awaited…