Shilling for Eisner

First, for all you people addicted to the SIMS: a cautionary tale.

Better by far to stick to real-life fun, or, in a pinch, Disneyland.

Yes, so, I spent two days at the Happiest Place on Earth and folks, I tell you, it pretty much lived up to the name. I was with my friends Rhonda and Jason and their daughter Zara (5). First up, do try to visit the magic kingdom with a half-pint. Even if they spend the duration of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride burrowing their head into your torso and screaming, so many other things are just so much more fun with a little kid. For example, watching their facial expression on rides is a source of entertainment all on its own.

[interjection: I just heard what I'm pretty sure was a gunshot. Silverlake, though it has its own charms, is NOT the happiest place on earth.]

The other great benefit of the small child action is how smart Disneyland is when it comes to accomodating what you, obviously, want to do. In the kid case, you want all the grownups to be able to go on the scary fast rides but not have to wait through the duration of two lineups while hanging with the kid. They make it very simple to for the babysitting grownup to jump the lineup. As a result, I got to go on a bunch of rides twice in a row, namely Space Mountain (redux) and the Matterhorn (I really want a similar fake icy peak in my backyard. No roller coaster necessary, just that pretty mountaintop, absurdly small.)

Jason and Rhonda and I enjoyed talking about how Disneyland Disneyland is. It's a strange sensation, and difficult to break down into component parts. Though not impossible. Insanely clean, that's one part. The ground really feels as if it is scrubbed, as Rhonda said, by Doozers all night long while everyone else is sleeping. Clover instead of grass, that's another (more lush, easier to keep green and lays closer to the ground). Steep entrance fees ensure that the people you see slumped on the ground outside the confectioners on Main Street USA are simply tuckered out tourists and if they smell of urine it's cause they're wearing diapers.

But Disneyland was fun. Fuuuuuuuun. You'd think there'd be some part of me filled with a churlish cynicism for all this, but really, there wasn't. As Jason said, Disneyland is the kind of thing Americans do best, and it's pretty spectacular.

My favourite part of the Disney adventure was walking with Zara through Frontierland on the way to the Winnie-the-Pooh ride and seeing a cowboy leaning against a post wearing riduculous furry chaps and then realising that I KNOW the cowboy and not in a Disney character way, in a that's-a-real-person-that-I-have-had-real-conversations-with-and-tied
-up-with-duct-tape way. Yes, it was Mr. Brian Jones, who was in my second 507 film and who is a very fine comic actor. He's a Disneyland cowboy on Fridays. I believe his name is "Clem".

But what can you say for a place that makes me so happy that I can see grown adults wearing tiaras and t-shirts and not feel annoyed?

"See you there"?