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23:16
Ravi Amruth
I assume that most of you know that I’m 17, and that I try to be as mature as I possibly can [bar the fart jokes, toilet jokes, and sex jokes]. With that in mind, would you think less of me if I said that I thought Disneyland Paris was MINDBLOWING?
I’ll admit now that I’m not much of a rollercoaster kind of guy: I’m the type of person who would rather get in a bumper car, and adhere to as many road traffic laws as I can, whilst displaying an air of decorum as every other person smashes into me and distracts me from my dream. Disneyland, however, may have just changed me. Waking up at eleven, we headed to the theme park on the train. Even from the outset, the place looks beautiful- upon entry to the park, you’re faced with primp and polished, cottage-like buildings, all clean and aligned to millimetre perfection, and sparkling; even in the dark of the clouds. Even I, a seventeen year old boy with testosterone raging through my veins, hardly managed to stop myself from jumping in a camp manner and screaming “OH EM GEE, I SSSSOOOO WANNA LIVE HERE!”
One of my friends, who was visibly ecstatic at the thought of being in Disneyland for her [wait for it, this pause is needed for the effect] SEVENTH time, led the charge for us to head to Space Mountain, Mission II. According to her, it’s “so much better than Mission I,” the coaster that is in the Florida Disney theme park. Me, in my pre-coaster state, was, and I’ll admit this, slightly afraid. Even though even the name “Space Mountain” sounds even more wussy than Graham Norton [or Richard Simmons for US readers] on a pink space hopper in a ballerina outfit, I was afraid that it’d go round a bend a little too fast, and would end up flinging me off to some far-fetched and little-known part of the Disneyland park, resulting in me waking up three days later with a weird Mickey-Mouse-shaped lump on the top of my noggin. As we got closer and closer, the feeling of being scared slowly adapted to the feeling of nervousness. Not a bad nervousness, like when you’re waiting outside a doctor’s office, and you know he’s going to tell you that the golf-ball you accidentally ingested was limiting you to six days of life, but a good nervousness.
“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”
That quote was my own. During the whole ride, with my hair being tossed about more than a L’Oreal advert on acid, I cheered and whooped in amazement! It was AWESOME. Not content with riding just once, we ran round to the start of the queue once again, and re-rode the ride. Take two, however, was not so smooth. While boarding the ride, I accidentally pushed down the seat lock in front of me, causing my friend, who was getting into the seat, to trip slightly. After the ride was over, and everyone else’s seat lock came up, mine stayed on and kept me hostage. Touché, Disneyland, Touché.
We then made a run for the Finding Nemo ride. I’d give you the proper name for it, but unfortunately I’ve forgotten it. Although you may think it’s a pretty lame ride, it’s really not that bad! It’s not the most enthralling amusement available, but it’s certainly a bit of a surprise! I recommend sitting in the front seat- the first downhill left-hander’ll hit you off kilter, and that makes the ride so much more awesome!
Ride of the day, however, has to go to the Aerosmith ride. In the queue, you get to see tonnes of memorabilia from various artists [and surprisingly, even though it’s Disney, there were no Jonas Brothers collectibles. Oh, wait, I said ‘artists,’ didn’t I? My mistake!] , and you even get to see a video of the band explaining why and how they designed the rollercoaster. The ride itself, though, is phenomenal. There’s a countdown from 5 at the start of the ride, and then it truly does [with a bit of a jolt at the start], as the legendary rock quote states, go to 11. We repeated this ride three times before we headed to the star attraction, the well renowned, the infamous:
TOWER OF TERROR.
I’ll say right now that I didn’t find it to be “all that” [as all the ‘hip’ people say nowadays]. The ride itself is little more than a lift going up and down more than a yoyo at superspeed. The staff at that particular ride, though, are incredibly talented actors, who portray hotel workers, each with a little quirk [One of them gave me an extremely dirty look, and told me to “get off the carpet”, and another told my friend that they may meet their demise]. In fact, this caused one of my friends to be slightly infatuated with one of the ‘workers’, and to be honest, I thought the feeling was mutual- he was really hamming it up for my companions.
Although this was the end of our Disneyland trip, we headed back to the hotel, and then onto the Champs Elysée. We decided to dine at an Italian restaurant. Our waiter, a portly, goateed man, however, seemed to dislike our choice, and proved that there were chips on his shoulder, as well as in the kitchen. He also seemed to dislike my sudden comic turn over the “floating island” that was on the desert menu, deciding to shake the dish in my face before presenting it on the table; the giant, spherical marshmallow causing the yucky, viscous custard to splash out of the bowl.
After this, we decided to head to a club up the road, named “Queen.” The waiter at the restaurant laughed when he heard my friend’s plans to take me into the club, his outburst of laughter caused by the fact that the apparent target audience of the club was homosexual. Waiting outside, and viewing a shaggy-haired Asian man fall flat on his face from the sheer quantity of alcohol he had consumed, we decided to take a rain check on the club.
This was our last night in Paris, and it was an extremely cool trip. Although Paris may not live up to the hype that is cast on it, it is still an extremely cool city, with extremely cool photo opportunities, too. I recommend it, and if you plan on going at any point: Bonne voyage!
I’ll admit now that I’m not much of a rollercoaster kind of guy: I’m the type of person who would rather get in a bumper car, and adhere to as many road traffic laws as I can, whilst displaying an air of decorum as every other person smashes into me and distracts me from my dream. Disneyland, however, may have just changed me. Waking up at eleven, we headed to the theme park on the train. Even from the outset, the place looks beautiful- upon entry to the park, you’re faced with primp and polished, cottage-like buildings, all clean and aligned to millimetre perfection, and sparkling; even in the dark of the clouds. Even I, a seventeen year old boy with testosterone raging through my veins, hardly managed to stop myself from jumping in a camp manner and screaming “OH EM GEE, I SSSSOOOO WANNA LIVE HERE!”
One of my friends, who was visibly ecstatic at the thought of being in Disneyland for her [wait for it, this pause is needed for the effect] SEVENTH time, led the charge for us to head to Space Mountain, Mission II. According to her, it’s “so much better than Mission I,” the coaster that is in the Florida Disney theme park. Me, in my pre-coaster state, was, and I’ll admit this, slightly afraid. Even though even the name “Space Mountain” sounds even more wussy than Graham Norton [or Richard Simmons for US readers] on a pink space hopper in a ballerina outfit, I was afraid that it’d go round a bend a little too fast, and would end up flinging me off to some far-fetched and little-known part of the Disneyland park, resulting in me waking up three days later with a weird Mickey-Mouse-shaped lump on the top of my noggin. As we got closer and closer, the feeling of being scared slowly adapted to the feeling of nervousness. Not a bad nervousness, like when you’re waiting outside a doctor’s office, and you know he’s going to tell you that the golf-ball you accidentally ingested was limiting you to six days of life, but a good nervousness.
“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”
That quote was my own. During the whole ride, with my hair being tossed about more than a L’Oreal advert on acid, I cheered and whooped in amazement! It was AWESOME. Not content with riding just once, we ran round to the start of the queue once again, and re-rode the ride. Take two, however, was not so smooth. While boarding the ride, I accidentally pushed down the seat lock in front of me, causing my friend, who was getting into the seat, to trip slightly. After the ride was over, and everyone else’s seat lock came up, mine stayed on and kept me hostage. Touché, Disneyland, Touché.
We then made a run for the Finding Nemo ride. I’d give you the proper name for it, but unfortunately I’ve forgotten it. Although you may think it’s a pretty lame ride, it’s really not that bad! It’s not the most enthralling amusement available, but it’s certainly a bit of a surprise! I recommend sitting in the front seat- the first downhill left-hander’ll hit you off kilter, and that makes the ride so much more awesome!
Ride of the day, however, has to go to the Aerosmith ride. In the queue, you get to see tonnes of memorabilia from various artists [and surprisingly, even though it’s Disney, there were no Jonas Brothers collectibles. Oh, wait, I said ‘artists,’ didn’t I? My mistake!] , and you even get to see a video of the band explaining why and how they designed the rollercoaster. The ride itself, though, is phenomenal. There’s a countdown from 5 at the start of the ride, and then it truly does [with a bit of a jolt at the start], as the legendary rock quote states, go to 11. We repeated this ride three times before we headed to the star attraction, the well renowned, the infamous:
TOWER OF TERROR.
I’ll say right now that I didn’t find it to be “all that” [as all the ‘hip’ people say nowadays]. The ride itself is little more than a lift going up and down more than a yoyo at superspeed. The staff at that particular ride, though, are incredibly talented actors, who portray hotel workers, each with a little quirk [One of them gave me an extremely dirty look, and told me to “get off the carpet”, and another told my friend that they may meet their demise]. In fact, this caused one of my friends to be slightly infatuated with one of the ‘workers’, and to be honest, I thought the feeling was mutual- he was really hamming it up for my companions.
Although this was the end of our Disneyland trip, we headed back to the hotel, and then onto the Champs Elysée. We decided to dine at an Italian restaurant. Our waiter, a portly, goateed man, however, seemed to dislike our choice, and proved that there were chips on his shoulder, as well as in the kitchen. He also seemed to dislike my sudden comic turn over the “floating island” that was on the desert menu, deciding to shake the dish in my face before presenting it on the table; the giant, spherical marshmallow causing the yucky, viscous custard to splash out of the bowl.
After this, we decided to head to a club up the road, named “Queen.” The waiter at the restaurant laughed when he heard my friend’s plans to take me into the club, his outburst of laughter caused by the fact that the apparent target audience of the club was homosexual. Waiting outside, and viewing a shaggy-haired Asian man fall flat on his face from the sheer quantity of alcohol he had consumed, we decided to take a rain check on the club.
This was our last night in Paris, and it was an extremely cool trip. Although Paris may not live up to the hype that is cast on it, it is still an extremely cool city, with extremely cool photo opportunities, too. I recommend it, and if you plan on going at any point: Bonne voyage!
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