An Awfully Big Adventure

Hour Thirteen: Mad Tea Parties

13. Have a character find/buy an animal and name them after something Disney.

“Now we have to carry Pascal through the whole park… Thanks for buying this, by the way,” Wendy says, refusing to look at Dale. She is sure her cheeks will betray her. And she can’t look at Chip either, because she’s positive he will giver her yet another suggestive look.

Instead, she looks at Pascal, everybody’s favorite chameleon. He is certainly endearing with his little three-pronged feet and kooky eyeballs. They named him  Pascal, since it is him after all, and also, they are not very skilled in the naming department.

Dale coughs awkwardly, “No problem. I mean, I bought a pen anyways, to literally document our travels, so why not? I don’t really care about money, which is why being a novelist seems like a pretty solid career path.”

Wendy laughs, “If you study creative writing in college, does that mean you’re studying unemployment?”

“More or less. My fallback plan is to be a trophy husband.”

Chip nods, “Good choice.”

“Speak of choices,” Wendy says, as the end of Main Street comes into view, “What ride do you guys want to go on?”

Chip seems to have the park more or less memorized. He was rather spoiled in elementary school and Disneyland was a frequent destination. “Let’s see, we’re heading towards Fantasyland, so there’s Dumbo, the teacups…”

Wendy squeals. This high-pitched sound is almost always followed by an arm flail. Once again, she temporarily loses control of her limbs and ends up latching onto Chip’s arm, tugging on it as she jumps up and down. “Teacups! Please can we go?”

Chip pries her fingers from his forearm, “Whoa. Calm down. I need this arm for football.”

Wendy, not being the most athletically inclined individual, frowns, “Wait. Isn’t football in the cold? Like winter or something?”

Chip sighs, "Early to late fall. Sometimes we play when it's ninety degrees and sometimes it's forty. Practice, however, is year round."

"Well then, you must really like it if you've stuck around with the sport for all of high school so far." Wendy tells him. She thinks she would go insane if she didn't have time to do what she pleases for at least an hour of the day. Even then, the chokehold of college and parental supervision was too much. That is why she is in Disneyland in the first place.

"Something like that," Chip responds, guiding them to the teacups.

Fantasyland doesn't have any of the monstrous roller coasters that only the brave can stomach. Rather, every ride is painted in child-like pastels to give off a welcoming aura. Even the music and shops radiate a certain carnival-like air. Cinderella's castle serves as the entrance to the area, and walking through the arches the change in atmosphere is obvious. Wendy inhales deeply, breathing in the sweetness the kettle corn and cotton candy give off to the air. The scent is seasoned with children's laughter and something indescribably magical.

There is something unreal about Disneyland, especially when it is one's first time at the park. And since Wendy can scarcely remember the last time she was allowed to set foot in this place, everything seems new. Wendy takes her phone out of her back pocket and turns around. She leans backward, trying to capture the tallest spire of the castle in a photo. And so maybe her technique isn't the best around, but as long as the scenery is more or less in focus, it will be a victory. Her hands are fairly steady, what with her needing to make precise movements with pencil or brush, and the picture turns out surprisingly well.