Gobsmacked

Today was one helluva day. Wow. I think I may have even lost a little faith in humanity because of something I witnessed; I'm confused, flabbergasted, and shocked to the core.

Let me explain in detail.

Today was another day at Disney, this time at their Hollywood Studios park. This place is Wicked with a capital 'W'. Tower of Terror, Rockin' Rollercoaster, the American Idol experience -- it's got some pretty sweet stuff. To our delight, a new Toy Story attraction just opened up and, in a time slump, we thought we'd check it out. Due to our intricate plan of carefully calculated Fastpasses (those of you who have been to Disney know what I'm talking about), we were all out of 'quick line' tickets and had to use the normal lineup.

There was an estimated wait time of 80 min. Not good, not horrible either. So we followed a family of four inside.

Now this Toy Story ride is a maze of unorganized bullshit, let me tell you. You squish inside these tiny lineups, stand around without moving a step for ten minutes, and when you do move, you're zigging and zagging in the stupidest ways while never even catching a glimpse of the loading point. I was getting impatient, nevermind the nine dozen ADHD brats bouncing off the walls. Argh. Just another line at Disney.

...or was it?

One of the kids in the family ahead of us was getting antsy only twenty minutes into the building. This boy loved attention. He wailed and laughed and leaped up and down all over dad, teasing his sister and tormenting the other kids in line with irritating faces -- just a grade A jackass.

Then he gets more riled up. Apparently, from the way he was crossing his legs, he had to go pee. Perfect. Mom and dad were at the end of their wits with him, ready to throw in the towel and go home... but they'd already waited a half hour in line and there was no end in sight.

I knew what was coming next. Dad would take the boy, push past all the people in line to get to a bathroom, then shove himself back by budding rudely in front of everyone again. Turns out, though, dad didn't like that idea.

Instead, the two parents exchanged a few whispers while their son's screams crescendoed. Mom's last words were "sometimes it's just what parents gotta do".

Gotta do what? I sighed and backed up against the rail, ready to let them inch behind me for the door.

But dad didn't move back; he kneeled down. He kneeled down and took out an empty water bottle, pulled down the kid's fly and popped the bottle on like some tank to a hose.

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GOBSMACKED

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I flung myself against the wall, trying not to laugh or scream, or scream with laughter.

That's not even all. When the boy was done (and quite satisfied, mind you) dad carried the used bottle around until we passed the next garbage can 10 minutes later. JUST CARRIED IT LIKE IT WAS APPLE JUICE! No parent should ever "gotta do that"!

Please, everyone pray tonight. Christian or not, I don't care; throw your hands up and say "please, God, help humanity -- help the next genereation because this one's messed up".

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In happier, piss-free news, I scored another goal!!

After sending my family on an all-out witch hunt in Planet Hollywood, we tracked down exactly what I was looking for! Check out these:

I found her on the third floor staircase -- quite the beauty.

And after searching and searching and searching, then almost giving up, my mom erupted with excitement upon discovering...

Winifred's Spellbook!!! You cannot conceive how much I love this movie. Well...maybe James can.

Anyway, good night everyone. Farewell, February 17th, you weird day filled with karma, you. After all, was seeing a bratty ten year old pee in a bottle worth finding a spellbook bound in human skin?

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Hmm...

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Yup. Absolutely.