So, guess where I went! You'll never guess. Well, unless we're Facebook friends, because I posted a photo there.
I went to Disneyland!
I know.
I know.
I know.
Shut Up.
OK, so it obviously wouldn't have been my first choice of vacation destinations, BUT I had never been there before and was interested in the differences between Disney World, where I have been a lot of times, and Disneyland, where I had never been. So that's where I went.
I had the chance to get a free plane ticket because of points, so I got up at an ungodly hour and got on a plane. The first stop was Atlanta, of course. I am always going to be cursed with having to go to that airport. I can't explain why I hate it. It's a perfectly fine airport, and it's undergoing some very needed updates and remodeling, but it's a visceral hate I have for the place. My hatred is deep and it is unexplainable. The Atlanta airport is the Hattiesburg, Mississippi of airports. I will not elaborate further.
So I get there, and shocker: Delta has oversold the flight. I will never freaking understand why they do stuff like that. Like, OMG, someone might not show up and they NEVER have people on standby hoping to get on, so they should definitely sell some seats twice just to make sure they get every last dollar they can, right? I know that's unfair, and I don't know how Delta does business, but it doesn't make sense to me. This is the sole reason I don't own an airline, you know.
Anway.
They needed three people to volunteer to give up their seats for the flight, and although I've never done it before and since I didn't have any particular plans for the rest of the day other than getting to Anaheim, I volunteered. They gave me $800 and a seat on a later flight. I like money and I can be patient. It seemed like a fair trade.
I got to California slightly later than originally planned and called an Uber to come and get me. I had to be bussed to a second location to be picked up, which I thought was weird, but apparently it keeps traffic at the airport down to a medium roar not to have people getting picked up their in ride shares. I would have liked to have rented a car, but 1) I had no idea what the traffic would have been like there, and 2) once I was at the hotel, I was within walking distance to Disneyland, so I didn't really need one. Except for not having the freedom to go anywhere beyond walking distance, I'm glad that I did the ride share because California traffic is awful. I only needed to go 35 miles from LAX, and it took an hour and a half. That is insane to me.
The car that picked me up was a fancy-pants Tesla, and I didn't know how to get inside. I've never been in a Tesla before, and there was just this silver thing flush to the door. Someone had to tell me how to use it, which was embarrassing. I felt like Sylvester Stallone in Demolition Man when someone had to tell him how to use the three seashells. But get in I did, and they drove me to Anaheim. The car was self-driving, so the man behind the wheel was basically decoration, but he was pleasant. I didn't realize I'd ordered a "quiet ride" until about halfway through, so there was some awkward conversation at first, and I had the feeling I was being rude by not talking later on, but that's the southern woman in me. I was created by God to hold pleasant conversations and keep people entertained, and staring out of a window of a car that was driving itself through the metro Los Angeles area without talking was weird. That car was dope, though. I want one, but I'd have to sell parts of myself on the black market to afford it, and even then, I don't think I'd rate top dollar for those parts at my age. I'll stick with my rapidly aging Volkswagen for now, I guess.
Once I was at the hotel, the man had to tell me how to get out of the car because like the outside, the inside handle didn't make sense to me. I was glad to get out so that I could stop embarrassing myself with my lack of knowledge about sentient cars.
The hotel was older, but decent, and was undergoing some remodeling, so check in was a little awkward, but not too bad. My room got upgraded for some reason, but apparently that just meant I got a set of bunk beds in the small room, and the ability walk outside and see the nightly fireworks, if I looked to the left. My one big complaint was that the hotel had outside walkways. I know that sounds petty, but really, I like my hallways to be indoors. A hotel room that leads directly outside kind of freaks me out a little. Anyone off the street could wander to my door and try to open it. That is how true crime podcasts start.
Once I was settled, I changed into my Downtown Disney outfit (again, shut up, I was going to do my damnedest to have the best time I could, and I was committed!) I had a dress with a wild, Enchanted Tiki Room bird pattern on it, and I got LOTS of compliments, thank you very much. I actually went to Trader Sam's, which was a Disney owned Tiki Bar, and had to wait an ungodly amount of time for a table but finally got to have dinner. I had some Kalua-Style Pork Nacho Fries, and they were just as delicious as they sound. I also got a Zombie cocktail, and it came in a Zombie Head Tiki Mug that I got to keep, which was very cool. I was very blurry by the time I left, and unfortunately the heat, plus the cocktail (which had ALL the rums in it, and although I love rum, it doesn't love me) made me quite ill, and I had to spend about ten minutes fighting for my life in a Downtown Disney bathroom until I could walk straight enough to leave.
I did walk around the shops a bit, going in and out of the air conditioning, because it was really freaking hot in Anaheim. I thought it was supposed to be a dry heat, but it wasn't. I didn't realize how close we were to the coast, so all the thought of "It's a dry heat" went out the window that first night.
I finally called it and walked back to the hotel and went to bed. I would be going to the park the next day and needed my beauty sleep!
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