Monday 31 March 2008

The dark side

At least Euro Disney is predictably horrible - cynical commercialism wearing a giant pair of mouse ears, down to its oft-repeated slogan: "Where dreams become reality."

It's a bitterly cold Easter Sunday - snow is forecast but not yet - and Disney, in all its corporate glory, has made the decision to keep Jesus out of Wonderland, sensibly concluding, perhaps, that a giant effigy of the Crucifixion on the side of Cinderalla's pretty pink palace might put the punters off their hot dogs.

By the time we reach the first ride - a steam train that runs round the park - we've already had a crash course in queuing; first for the shuttle bus, then for security, then for the tickets, and finally behind a man who seemed at first to be queuing for something but turns out simply to have stopped dead and is staring in disbelief at the till receipt, stunned at the cost.

That queueing practice comes in handy straight away because the first train is cancelled and for every three announcements in an American voice attempting to recreate the laid-back feeling of the Wild West we have a cool French one cutting across it and announcing with evident enjoyment that the wait time has just increased yet again.

By the time the train finally arrives, it might just as well have been promoted it as an authentic recreation of rush-hour UK commuterland, because that's exactly what it resembles and its appearance is greeted with the sort of hysterical joy you'd associate with the last chopper out of Saigon

We head back to the coast. The weather worsens the further north we travel, snow falls heavily and the drifts pile up while Deborah, to add to the fun, begins running a temperature. Simultaneously, Francis and I both remember the Calpol, sitting on the table in the kitchen, waiting patiently to be packed. We end the journey at a crawl, following two lorries that are snowploughing at one end and salting at the other.

Francis' company has recently treated him to a satnav - though given his sardine inclinations, I can't help feeling sonar would have been more appropriate, and he has selected the voice of Yoda from Star Wars as his guide.

"At the roundabout, straight across you must go," says Yoda.

"The sign says the tunnel is the other way," I say.

"Never doubt the power of a Jedi warrier," says Francis, wagging a finger at me, as we speed off in the opposite direction.

"The motorway you must join, then the first exit you must take," says Yoda.

"Why are we surrounded by lorries?" I ask.

"Ssssh," say the others, Yoda included.

Two minutes later, we're in the freight terminal with just one other car for company, which I assume is also navigating by Jedi knight that day.

I get extremely stroppy and unpleasant ("Never doubt the power of a pre-menopausal woman") and compel Francis to switch Yoda off before I trample him underfood and we finally reach the terminal using those quaint, out-moded sign posts. Though we've missed our train, we are lucky enough to be put on the next one.

"So, what did you think of Euro Disney?" I ask the children, as we leave.

"Well, I won't be taking MY children there," says Beth.

"Remind me to avoid any trains with the words 'Thunder' and 'Runaway' in them," says Deborah, recovering slightly. "But I still can't believe I've been there."

"Judging by the satnav, nor can Yoda," I say, nastily.

"Honestly, you can't expect him to be an expert on navigation when he's having to take on the Evil Empire the whole time," says Francis.

"Hah," I spit. "And where does he say we are now?"

"Tuscany," says Francis, tapping the screen like a faulty barometer.

"Dream on," I say to Yoda, as, snowflakes swirling round the car, we join the back of yet another, brand spanking new queue.

12 comments:

Iota said...

You know, you might just have hit on the idea that could make you a millionaire. Commuterland. I can't quite work out the details yet, but hm, there's potential there for a 21st century theme park like no other. "Where dreams become downtrodden."

Incidentally, and this is a total aside so you must delete it before you publish the comment, I was in the school dining hall today, and in came Mr Darey. Seems he had a bit of a drama yesterday, when he got locked in the music room. The door handle, with integral lock, had jammed. So he had to kick his way out Ninja-style, since it was after hours and there was no hope of a maintenance man. This has conferred hero status on him amongst the other staff. And there I was, thinking that music teachers only have exciting lives in blogland.

Cath said...

Oh God this would be so funny if not true! I have been there and I know what you had to put up with. Queues (and pushy ignorant people) does not even begin to describe it! One consolation I had - the kids loved it. But never again.

And as for Yoda - *peers through blurry eyes from laughing* - why Yoda if he is so busy fighting Evil Empires? The logic astounds me. As do satnavs that go the opposite direction to sign posts.

I admire your stamina! I presume your family (and the satnav) still lives... ;0)

Charlotte said...

Brilliant, funny, dark, satirical. You don't have a stand-up show I don't know about, do you?

Euro Disney, and presumably its American cousin, is a horrible place. We were there for a day and a half and also spent our time queuing, or arguing about why we weren't in the priority queue. If any of our children ask why we haven't been again, we tell them it's going to take us about ten years before we can save up enough money. The truth is, in ten years time, we can send them there alone and then go and drink red wine in Parisian cafes.

I hate satnav too. We are still relying on the old technology of guess and shout to get us around Europe.

Kelly Innes said...

I was only talking with DH the other day about getting SatNav. Now I'm beginning to wonder...

Shame there's no facility for leaving your children at the door of amusement parks so that you can go shopping....might have made the trip more 'balanced'?

molly gras said...

I'm howling at your GPS personification! "This is not the vacation you are seeking. The Force you are not using; Mastercard using you are!"

I can't even begin to express my dismay at imagining you and your famiy emerging from a potentially clogged tunnel to the (un)-welcoming arms of rampant commercialization and French cynicism ... makes you wonder if you'd have been better off staying home, drinking a bottle of good French wine and plugging in a Disney movie for the kids instead.

That's what I plan to do ALOT of this summer :)

Mya said...

You are very brave to visit Eurodisney. Do the French actually manage to be friendly and cheesy like their American counterparts? I find it difficult to imagine...

Mya x

Irene said...

I learned the Disney brand of queuing in sunny Southern California. Once you are in a queue, you are trapped forever and will not escape no matter how much you would like to. You can pee your pants in a queue and that is just too bad.

Americans are good natured and patient and will queue endlessly and we Dutch people learned a lot from them. They don't grumble and complain or stare fixedly at their watches. They make room for the fainting bodies and for the ambulance personnel.

Dumdad said...

I've had my fill of Eurodisney over the years.

Pre-kids, I went with my wife off-peak and got on every ride without waiting. That was okay.

Post-kids, we've been many times (our children seem to love it) and I hate it more and more each time - waiting an eternity for a three-minute ride; queuing up for ages for "fast food" etc etc. What do I hate about Eurodisney in a word? Queues. Or lines as the Americans would say. Certainly, I was more lined each time I left the park...

Omega Mum said...

Iota: I tried to delete the second half of your comment but it refused to do it - it was an all or nothing affair. And anyway, it make me laugh so much I felt it was selfish not to share. I hope you don't mind. Commuterland, eh? I think we should do it. What about the sticking chewing gum patch. And see Sweet Irene for the fun faint 'n' ride attraction which I think would be a real winner.

Crazycath. We do live, though I want to take Yoda to the vet's and ask Bad Lindy to have him put down.

charlotte: Glad you liked it. Why do we go when we all know how horrible it's going to be? That's the real conundrum.

Kelly: They can be quite useful and long as you don't follow them blindy, like worshippers in a new religion.

molly gras: We'd have been much better staying at home but we're martyrs to our children. Must be mad, though.

mya: The French managed somehow to rise above the US Disney ethic and looked thoroughly scornful of their ludicrous uniforms, the attractions and, naturally, the tourists most of all. You had to admire it. I particularly liked their expressions when 'It's a small world' was playing, which it did, almost non-stop.

Sweet I: Loved this. Think basis of whole new attraction.

dumdad: I'm just getting my head round the idea of going somewhere like that without children.

DJ Kirkby said...

and tot hink I was considering taking N3S there for a treat! I can't even navigate around the Isle of Wight, I suspect there is no hope for me driving in France...

Catherine said...

Euro disney in a howling icy gale sounds pretty hellish all told. Still, you don't have to do that again!

Jane said...

Loved this! Laughed so much about the satnav. Ours is called Dashboard Doris and if I really want to go somewhere I switch her off. Hubby swears by her though. ;-)