This Side of the Pond

I don’t wish to brag, but in just over two weeks I will be indulging in the purest form of Americana. For the first time in my life, I will do something I never envisioned as a possibility: walk through the gates of Disneyland.

You may be thinking I’m far too old to spend a weekend with Mickey and Pluto, but you would be wrong. I am as eager to encounter Captain Jack Sparrow and his friends as I would have been at the age of seven.

We chose the most magical time of the year to visit the most magical place on earth. This has been an adventure long in the planning (more than two years, partly due to pandemic-induced delay).

Why did I think this trip would never be on my cards? Before I moved across the pond, it would have been too much of a strain on my limited budget. After I moved here, it was because I wouldn’t describe my husband as a theme park kind of person.

I believe his response when asked if he’d like to join us was to remind me that it’s a long way to go just to stand in lines and dodge other people’s strollers. His description of this experience was, and I quote, “fresh hell.”

He was thrilled to hear that a friend wanted to go with me, which meant he’d never need to put himself through the nightmare of delicious food and exciting rides. This works for both of us: my horizons widened in an instant, while his stayed as narrow as he prefers them.

What makes this arrangement even better is that my friend and I are both the kind of people who very much prefer to plan ahead. We like to know exactly what we’ll be doing and when we’re going to be doing it, because otherwise how can we be sure that we’re having fun correctly?

We’re doing the planning for all four members of our party, half of whom are content to go with whatever flow we come up with. One of them was foolish enough to say he doesn’t care what we do as long as he gets regular Dole whips and a bread bowl for lunch, which meant we were free to use our imaginations.

We’ve had packing lists written for months, we’ve pored over park maps and we’ve investigated practical things such as locker availability and whether there’s a little store in the hotel. She has regaled me with wisdom from previous park trips – including the locations of every bathroom – and we’ve even gotten hold of a travel-sized version of backgammon to entertain us on the plane.

We spent two hours last week scheduling our snacks, because the park had just released its list of seasonal specials and we don’t want to miss out on a single funnel cake opportunity.

In our defense, the list took 16 pages to print, so it took a while to get through. When you’ve only got two breakfasts to make the most of, it’s important to make the right choices.

I say that, but there are considerably more snacks available than there are meals in a day, so we’ve had to pretend we’re hobbits and add in second breakfasts and elevenses. Also third and fourth breakfasts, if I’m honest, followed by a mid-morning snack.

For some people, all this planning is the best way to ruin a vacation, but not for us. Thanks to our investigations, I can daydream of the moment we leave the hotel for the first time to eat guacamole and cake shakes in Downtown Disney, then choose my first pair of Minnie ears to wear in the park.

Aside from a quick trip to Warner Bros. studios in Los Angeles (during which I got to wave at half the cast of ER and the Sorting Hat in the Harry Potter tour inaccurately placed me in Gryffindor), this will be my first American theme park. I’m not sure Warner Bros. even counts, because it’s all about tours of movie sets and doesn’t have a single rollercoaster.

In fact, I’ve only been to two proper theme parks, but both were memorable experiences. The first was Thorpe Park, which was light on the rollercoasters at the time but did have the water rides covered.

What I’ll remember most from that trip was the log flume, which you may have seen featured in famous photos of Princess Diana when she on a trip there with her boys. It’s notable for the sheer amount of splashing when you hit the bottom, but you usually don’t get as wet as we did.

Near the end of the day, the skies opened and it began to pour with rain, so most of the guests fled for shelter. Not my friend and I – we thought they were daft.

If we were going to get wet anyway, why not do it in a log flume carriage? The staff didn’t bother asking us to leave while there wasn’t a queue, so we went round and round that thing for nearly an hour. It was a long, damp trip home, but it was worth it.

My second trip was to Alton Towers, which is known for having some of the best rollercoasters in the UK. It has one where you stand in the seat and then tip forward so you feel like you’re flying (sadly broken when I was there); one that’s entirely in the dark; and what I suspect to be the most frightening ride in the world.

My friend doesn’t think I’m going to be brave enough to ride on Splash Mountain, which apparently has an exit just before you reach the end of the line because so many people chicken out at the last minute. But then, she’s never been on Oblivion.

The world’s first vertical drop roller coaster drags you slowly to its summit, then hangs you over the edge while a disembodied voice whispers, “Don’t…look…down.” It’s good advice, because you’re about to be dropped 180 feet into an underground tunnel – a black hole that’s far, far below you.

If I can cope with Oblivion, I feel sure I can cope with almost anything – even Splash Mountain. I already have plenty of experience getting soaked to the skin by a log flume, so I’m doubly prepared.

Besides, we’ve already added it to the schedule, and we can’t go changing it now. If we don’t get through everything on our itinerary, how will we know we had fun correctly?