Seven
“Ah. The golf ball.” I say as Dastan and I enter Epcot.
“It’s not a golf ball!” He practically yells at me. “It’s the world’s first geodesic sphere.”
“Whatever!” I cry. “Does it really look like I carewhat shape anything Disney is?”
“No, but you would if you knew how much it matters.” He says, so matter-of-factly that I’m tempted to ditch him. “That geodesic sphere maintains,” He begins. I hold my hand in over his mouth.
“Look,” I say. “Your job is to guide me through Disney and show me all of its magic and whatnot, not to bore me to death. So can you please just stick to the interesting stuff, and try not to force me into suicide?”
He crosses his arms in frustration. “I would if you thought anything were interesting.” He says.
I blow a strand of hair off my forehead and say, “I have interest in a lot of things. And if you would spend more than an half hour with me before judging me, than maybe I’d be more open to share them.”
He looks up at the sky. And I look around the park. The sun is just beginning to rise, and until now we’ve relied on the park lamps for light. Epcot isn’t open this early in the morning, so it’s only us and other cast members wondering around. It feels kind of empty without everyone crowding the attractions and without the park music in the background, but I’m not complaining.
The only noise you hear is that of other cast members, and some voices from inside the attractions nearby us. Dastan and I are practically yelling at each other, so it’s no wonder that in all this silence we’re attracting attention.
“Well,” Dastan says drawling me back to our conversation. “I’ll try to stop judging enough to listen to you, if you decide to shut up long enough for me to get a word in edgewise.” He bargains.
I look at him mysteriously; somewhat insulted, and somewhat delighted by the deal.
“Fine.” I say.
“Good.” He says. Together we breathe a sigh of relief.
“Now,” He says with a new found enthusiasm. “To Spaceship Earth!”
-Which is also known as the time machine of death.
Well, not really, but it might as well be.
When we walk onto the ride, which is inside of the “geodesic sphere”, I find that the ride is running and a cast member stands at the control panel. We walk up to the ride’s car and just before we reach the spinning platform Dastan whips around to face me.
“Before we board,” he says. “Allow me to inform you of the rides history.”
I roll my eyes and place my hands on my hips; biting my tongue not to go off on him.
“Spaceship Earth opened in 1982 with Epcot’s grand opening on October 1st.” He says. “Since then it has undergone four renovations and four narrators -the current one being Judi Dench.” I nod as if it is all very exciting. “The vehicles you see here are called Time Machines,” He says motioning towards the green cars passing us by. “Along the attraction you travel from prehistoric times, to the present, and then after, you can plan your future.” He explains as if I’m not totally aware of what kind of torture awaits me. This is one of my family’s favorite rides and we ride it all the time- 3-8 times a trip.
Talk about boredom.
“Well then, let’s get to it.” Dastan says stepping forward. We board the car, he getting in before me, and sit down.
“Make sure your face is clearly visible and wait for the flash.” A voice says wanting my picture. I shield my face with my hands and wait for the light to go off before removing them.
“What was that for?” Dastan asks.
“I don’t want some creeper of a person to look at my picture or anything when we get off the ride.” I say seriously.
He laughs. “You do realize we’re probably going to be the only ones down there right?”
Oh yeah, I think. I’d forgotten that. Oh well, Dastan will still be there, so the principle applies still
“Here are the cavemen,” He says pointing to my left, his arm crossing just in front of me, slightly touching me. I push his arm away uncomfortably.
You know, it never occurred to me that maybe Dastan is one of those people- you know, the creeper kind. I mean, me going everywhere alone with him would surely be a good way to-
No.
That’s a stupid thought. Dastan’s Disney, and I think my mom told me something, a while ago, about how Disney does this whole big background check on their employees to make sure they fit the Disney standard, so that means Dastan’s okay…
I hope.
I gulp, clearly uncomfortable and scoot a farther away from Dastan.
He looks at me strangely, but continues talking about the different scenes and the history of them; blah, blah blah- I stop listening by ‘the Greeks’ which is not long after the beginning.
I know I agreed to be quiet and not interrupt him (although he’s actually the one who was being rude and interrupted me every time I tried to speak this morning), but he’s seriously wearing me out with all the “Disney did this, and Disney did that,” and the history. I mean, I get enough of it in school, I don’t need it on vacation either, I think.
I catch myself.
Does this even count as my vacation anymore? I wonder. Besides the fact that I already hate Disney, I’m now a Fairy’s captive, and being dragged around the ‘World’ by a Disney lunatic who acts like he owns me.
At least with my parent’s I got to relax. I think.
It’s no wonder Dastan starts waving his hand in front of my face when we approach the end of the ride.
“It’s time to make your future,” He says pointing to the small screen on the vehicle.
I shake my head to wake up from my daze.
“Why not yours too?” I ask defensively.
“Because I already know my future.” He says.
I laugh. “Uh huh, and what is your future?” I ask sarcastically “Being Walt Disney’s successor?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He says with the same defensive tone as I use. “Just answer the questions before we get off.” He commands. I quickly answer the questions, the first one being What are you most interested in?
Home, Work, Health, Leisure.
My eyes look to Dastan hoping he’s not looking, but he is so I answer Leisure.
Which best describes you?
I like to be surprised.
A few questions later it asks what makes me feel better on a bad day.
Hot Chocolate or Hot Soup
I always let my brother or dad do this part of the ride, so I’ve never actually had to answer any of these questions.
I think about the question.
I remember when I got sick one trip… or at least that’s what I told my family. In reality I was just upset over my best friend and what he did to me. It obviously wasn’t Michelle. No, Michelle and I weren’t really friends until after Austin left. Not because we didn’t like each other but… Well, that doesn’t really matter now. Anyways, that was one of the worst days of my life, and my dad brought be some hot chocolate later that afternoon. He had bought me a Mickey Mouse mug; the same mug I use every morning for coffee, and every night for hot chocolate. He helped me through that day. Staying with me until my mom and Eric came back from the parks; telling me stories and joking around until I finally felt good enough to smile.
The corners of my lips turn up as I push hot chocolate. One more question and they begin to build my future. It’s not at all what I expected, but not horribly bad for something Disney related.
I wonder what my real future looks like.
By afternoon Dastan and I have covered all of Future World, and move onto World Showcase.
“I’m hungry.” I complain around 2. I haven’t had food since last night’s dinner at Magic Kingdom.
“Just keep walking.” Dastan says ahead of me.
I stop walking and cross my arms. “No.” I yell. I’ve had it with him telling me what to do.. At Mission: Space I opted for the Green Team, but he demanded we go on the more intense Orange version that left me dizzy and on the verge of throwing up. On Test Track he made me study every single Test Track Dummy in the cue line before riding. And since we’ve been touring the World, he’s made me walk through every inch of Canada and the United Kingdom-. And to think we haven’t even reached France yet.
Dastan stops walking and comes back by my side. “I’m starving, and if you’re going to keep me away from food, just watch as I scream and say that I’ve been kidnapped.” I threaten. His brown eyes narrow in on me.
“Fine.” He says.
I smile out of victory.
“What do you like? Moroccan? Canadian?”
“Why not American?” I ask.
“Why not Norwegian?” He suggests happily. I give a grunt.
“No way to Norway.” I say pushing him aside. “If I can’t have a burger than let’s eat at Italy.”
“For pizza?” Dastan asks.
“No,” I say smiling.
“Pasta?” He wonders as if what I want really matters to him.
“Nope.” I say satisfied.
“Well then what do you like there?” He asks as if it’s some big secret.
“The guys," I say with a smile tugging on my lips. "Duh."
He stops walking and puts his hand on my arm. "You've got to be kidding me." He says.
I shake my head. "Not even close."
I laugh and resume walking.
“Table for two.” Dastan says reluctantly when we reach the Tutto Italia restaurant .
We’re seated immediately. Not because there is no wait, but because Dastan has some kind of I’m-Important-and-must-eat-now pass that makes the woman shutter and scatter to find an available table.
The restaurant is beautiful. With a large mural on the back wall and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, it creates a very romantic atmosphere.
Too bad Dastan is such a freak about Disney, I think. Because, I mean, I’d be the first to admit that Dastan is not bad on the eyes. He’s got some muscle on him, and those soft brown eyes could make anyone fall for him.
But not me.
He’s too Disney. Way too Disney for me.
A minute or two later our waiter is at our table to take our order. I was right- The men at this restaurant are to die for. Dark brown eyes, black hair, and that awesome accent.
“You can stop drooling now.” Dastan says after he’s gone. I roll my eyes and wipe my mouth although I know it’s already dry. Dastan looks back to his book. It’s the guide one again. I lean over the table to see it, but he turns it so that I can’t look.
Touchy, I think.
I wonder what’s in that book anyway. The cover has Mickey Mouse on it, and it looks like every other Disney World book that my mom owns, but his expression while reading it makes me sense that it’s something more. One second he’s smiling and the next he’s scowling.
At least that would make sense if it’s Disney.
Minutes go by. We’re given bread that I eat and Dastan ignores. Drinks, which I gulp down before the waiter has gone out of sight. And eventually our entrees that I eat alone, while Dastan nibbles at his food while reading.
I wish I had something to do while he ignores me besides stare at the waiter. I mean, as much as he is beautiful, I feel like such a weirdo staring at him. I shake my head and stare at Dastan instead. His backpack lays on the chair beside him, and he’s completely oblivious to the fact that I’m looking at him.
“So what now?” I ask after I get bored with my own thoughts. He looks up at me startled. He closes his book, and carefully slides it into his backpack. He clasps his hands together.
He sighs. “I’ve decided-”
“You and her both do that.” I say in disgust.
He looks at me questionably. “Excuse me?”
“When you and,” I quickly look around the room to make sure know one’s listening. “When you and ‘the fairy’ are about to come to an important fact you both clasp your hands.” I explain. He raises his eyebrow as if this is news to him.
“And you care, why?” He asks.
“I don’t.” I declare. “It’s just kind of aggravating how much you two are alike.” I say.
He smirks. “I bet it is.” He says confidently, but I notice his hands fall apart and start nervously rubbing his legs instead.
“Anyways...” He says. “I’ve decided that we’re going to finish World Showcase and then head back to the Kingdom. You’ll need to be in the castle by Midnight.”
“So I’m Cinderella now?” I ask offensively.
He laughs. “Not even close. She’s sweet and caring, and you’re just.. not.” He says. “I mean, I’ve spent a whole day with you and it’s obvious that you don’t care about anything but hurting people and making them miserable.”
I can feel the anger growing inside of me. This would be a great time for Mr. Wonderful, the waiter, to bring me a frying pan. But he doesn’t.
What does he know about me to say that? He doesn’t know a thing about me. How dare he say that I don’t care about anything.
I care… I care about a lot of things…
I’ve just forgotten how to show it.
But not ever, in a million years, would I show it to him.
I throw my napkin on the table and walk to bathroom in long, confident strides, waiting to lock my stall before the tears start flow.
Maybe I’m being overly emotional, yes. But I don’t care. I don’t cry. Not in public. Not lately. Not for that last few years, anyway, and I’m not going to let him see me this way now.
He’s judging me again. He doesn’t know me. I remind myself.
Although I have to admit that he’s pretty spot on when he says that about me making people miserable. I know I disappoint my parents. I know I make them worry. I don’t want to. But I do it. I do it on purpose, too. I know that if I don’t then I won’t get any attention from them anyways. As for everyone else I guess my attitude has just followed through. Making them miserable. Causing them pain just to make me feel happy.
Face it, I hurt people.
But I still care that I do it.
Dastan doesn’t know how much him saying these things is eating me up inside. But I can’t let it show.
I wipe my tears and wait a few minutes before going back to the table.
“The waiter’s name is Simone.” I say. “He says he likes my outfit.” I lie.
“Huh.” Dastan says. He probably doesn’t believe me, seeing how my eyes must be red and puffy, clearly indicating that I’ve been crying. But he doesn’t ask any questions, so I follow him silently out the door and don't look back.
The rest of the day is quiet and highly awkward for the both of us. He tells me about each of the countries and I try to listen without barfing. By eight o’clock Dastan says to call it a day, and I reply happily with half a smile.
When I reach the castle he leaves me at the door with dinner waiting on the bed. I nibble at the salad, and hardly eat any of my chicken parmesan.
For an hour or so after dinner I stare out the balcony. Looking over the crowds. Studying the families. Missing mine. The stars are few in the bright lights of the Magic Kingdom and I find myself missing Wisconsin and my home.
I walk sadly over to the bed and lay on my stomach. I think of my family and how happy they must be now that I’m finally out of their hair. I know that they secretly hate bringing me on these trips. I don’t blame them, but I can’t help but wonder about what they’re thinking right now. They probably think I’ve been kidnapped. I think.
I sit up in anguish.
Doesn’t Disney shut down the park or something when a kid goes missing? I wonder.
I hardly count as a kid, but even a sixteen year old going missing would have to cause some kind of alarm here.
I make a mental note to ask Dastan about it the next morning, and fall asleep.
But the next morning when I see him, the only thing I can do is try not to claw out his face.