Surprise!

(First of some reports from our trip to Faerie …)

I knew something was up Thursday evening. I was working in the office in Pasadena while Margie was off spending time with her folks. I’d been told that we were going out for dinner, but the details were not forthcoming.

I call Margie as I leave the office in Pasadena. In point of fact, she calls me. On her cell phone, not from her folks. “Great, glad you’re leaving. You should probably take the 5 down.”

WTF? I-5 is the worst-traffic freeway in the LA Metro area, which is saying something. Perennially under construction, it’s perpetually jammed. “Um … the 5? What, down the Pasadena into downtown?”

“Or the 57. Whichever.”

“I … was thinking of taking the 210 to the 57 and on down. The way I usually go.”

“That’ll be fine.” She sounded very perky. “Give me a call when you get below the 60.”

“Oooookay.”

Something, obviously, was afoot.

Drive, drive, drive, drive. Listen to KNX long enough to get a traffic report, than throw in a book-on-tape (the only way to commute, I’m convinced). Get about to where I’m going, start to call — Margie preempts me. Suspicious — she’s still on her cell. “Hi. Okay so you’re going to meet me at Downtown Disney …”

Well, that’s cool. There are some tasty restaurants there.

“… Mom and Dad have Kitten, so …”

Ah. A romantic evening on our own. That’s pretty keen. Interesting that she’s there already. Make reservations? Shopping?

I tell her I’ll call her when I hit Ball Road. No telling what the 57 traffic will be like. The answer is, in fact, light, so it’s not too many minutes later that I call her. It’s a staticky corner, and I hear noise and announcements in her background, and she suddenly cuts out. She calls back a minute later, cursing the bad reception. I later found out this was part of her fiendish plan, covering some inconveniently betraying background noise.

I pull into the Downtown Disney parking, called by Margie one more time. It occurs to me I ought to be suspicious regarding her calling me, rather than the other way around, but I don’t say anything. We agree to meet over by the Lego store.

At this point, my thoughts are either (a) Margie’s arranged for a nice dinner, or maybe (b) Margie’s arranged for an entire evening away, staying at the Disneyland Hotel or something. I decide I’ll play it by ear, since any prospect sounds enjoyable. I realize I can leave my tie in the car, and do so.

We meet up, hugs and kisses, and she asks, “So, where do you want to go first?” Heh. “You decide,” I tell her.

“Fine. Let’s — go over here,” she says, innocently.

It’s the monorail station, and, interestingly enough, she has park passes for us to get on (she immediately takes mine back before I can examine it). We hop on the next train, as I regale her with stories I read recently about the monorail renovation going on (my recent reading of various Disney sites has made me a repository for such generally useless information). We ride the monorail over to Tomorrowland, wending around the park, catching a brief glimpse of a mothballed submarine, and get off there. Margie directs us over to Star Tours, where she has a FastPass for both of us.

The ride is fun as always. They’ve done a bit of refurb in the waiting queues, but since it’s been forever since the lines actually took up all that space, a lot of that is wasted, alas. After the ride, she’s glancing at her watch — my watch, actually — and hustles us along …

We wend across Tomorrowland, past the shrouded Sleeping Beauty’s Castle, past the shrouded Tiki Room (lots of stuff getting renovated for the park’s 50th anniversary next year), past a temporarily-out-of-order Indiana Jones ride, past Pirates, into New Orleans …

Now I’m beginning to suspect where we’re going, but I’m still not sure. I’ve talked with Margie before about the Blue Bayou, but that still seems an odd choice. Obviously we have reservations, wherever we’re going, but could we be going to …

“Hi, guy!” It’s Jim, and he and Ginger and Katherine are here, right about where we we would be if we were eating at …

Club 33. Spiffy.

So over dinner I get the whole tale. The four of them had been going through Disneyland and California Adventure, having a great time at both parks. We have a marvelous dinner, with the typically impeccable and jolly Club 33 service, including Katherine (they have a very good kid’s menu).

Part of the Club 33 reservations are passes to both parks, which is why they’d spent most of the day there. The crowds were, as has been reported elsewhere, very light, especially at DCA. They’d walked right onto everything, which is worrisome from the long view, but certainly not anything they worried too much about right there. (DCA, but also the Magic Kingdom, have both been suffering from light attendance this summer. Margie thought this day’s particular lightness came from being a Thursday, and in the week before the two week Labor Day period). Katherine particularly enjoyed the DCA stuff at A Bug’s Land, particularly both the Bug’s Life show (which she’d seen a couple years back at Animal Kingdom) and the Ladybugs ride. Everyone had enjoyed the bakery and tortilla factory tour.

Ride-wise, with her tennis shoes, Katherine’s topping the 42″ mark, so there wasn’t much she couldn’t go on. She enjoyed Soarin’ Over California most of all, and her immediate reaction was, “Let’s do it again,” so they did. The Sun Wheel had the longest lines, due to the long load time, and Katherine got her leg pinched at one point between the handicap jump seat and one of fixed seats, but there were no permanent injuries. She was disappointed that there was a mechanical malfunction at the Playhouse Disney, but overall enjoyed the place, enough so to make me think we’ll have to visit again over the Holidays.

After dinner, the Ks took Katherine home with them (as she was literally falling asleep there at the table, having had a very busy day), and Margie and I were on our own for a nice Disney evening. Alas, DCA closed at 9, and we didn’t get out of dinner until 8, so we didn’t feel like rushing over to DCA for a ride on Tower of Terror. Instead, we drifted around the regular Magic Kingdom, going on the Haunted Mansion (walk-on; some recent clean-up on the sound track and a few mixed-bag enhancements to the setting), deciding not to wait in line for Splash Mountain, going instead on the Winnie-the-Pooh ride (extensive exteriors, interior similar to the WDW version, more of a Fantasyland ride), Pirates of the Caribbean (nearly a walk-on; some sound track clean-up and audioanimatronic repairs), and Indiana Jones (still the best immersive experience, even if you just stroll past most of it). We declined to ride the long-lined Matterhorn, and ended up leaving a half-hour before the park was to close.

In the big plaza between the two parks were innumerable banners and a big diamond-vision loudspeaker-blaring promotion for Primetime Weekend. Bleah. Yes, it’s part of the ABC/Disney synergy, but it definitely interferes with the “magic,” a tawdry intrusion of the mundane into a place that’s supposed to remove you therefrom.

We exited, as usual, via the big Disney Store at Downtown Disney, though we picked up only a minimum of swag. Lots of costumes in evidence, as summer turns to fall turns to Halloween — alas, Halloween in Colorado is not like that in California, and the cute Kim Possible cheerleading outfit would probably not be temperature-suitable for Katherine.

One thing we did spot was a new line called “Disney Cuties,” which Margie described as Disney-meets-Hello-Kitty. They’re cute, certainly, though also disturbing, and while it’s an interesting attempt to (it seems) infiltrate the “tween” market, I’m not sure about tweaking the Disney properties in quite that way. On the other hand, it might have just been the initial shock …