"¡Señor, aquí!"

                You know how when the quarter back or something wins the Super Bowl and the reporter asks what they’re going to do next they say, “I’m going to Disney World!” Well that actually happens. Celebrities like Disney World just as much as the kids in the commercials.

                Let’s go back in time. I worked at Disney World for four months at the Rockin’ Roller Coaster Starring Aerosmith at Disney’s Hollywood Studios. It was the FUNNEST! One: I worked at the happiest place on earth. Two: I worked at the best ride. C: I spent my days off drinking margaritas and lokos at the happiest place on earth. I lived in Disney Housing with five other straight boys which was a testament and a blessing. They were all super awesome and we spent many a day together discussing fashion choices and what girls are thinking.

                My friends and I had adventures on the party bus which was basically a coach bus that took us from our apartments to da clubs fo ten dinero. ITWASTHEBESTDEALEVER! We got mocha by the pool. We rode rides hoping that they would break down. (Getting evacuated off a ride was our dream.) And then we would go to work and complain about all the guests and how they need to not yell at us when the line is longer than an hour.

                Well, I soon found out that if I wanted to see a celebrity, I was a good ride to do it. The Rockin’ Roller Coaster Starring Aerosmith is the only upside down roller coaster at Disney so all the big kids want to ride it. The best position to be in to see a star is at unload where everyone gets off the ride. Guest Relations will take the celebrity up through the gift shop and tell us that their guest needs to get on at unload. We have to think of an excuse to talk to the celebrity because if we fawn over them or give them too much attention, we could get fired. So when I saw Michael Buble I said, “Uh, do you guys want to ride again or…” And he said, “No that’s okay. Thanks, man.” Michael Buble smells really good and his wife is gorgeous and she doesn’t speak any English. Lahv et.

                But I soon found out that all the celebrities hated me. It was as if I was the person that inspired private events on Fachelibro. I was always on break or in an outside position when they would ride the ride! I would hear, “Just saw Courtney Cox!” and “Christina Aguilera was here. She looks really fat” and “Just fist pumped A-Rod.” Up until one of the most embarrassing days of my life, I had only met Tia Mowry from Sister Sister and fist pumped a bunch of football players on ESPN weekend but of course I had no idea who any of them were.

                My friend, Amanda was working at unload one day and Guest Relations told her that they were going to have someone load at unload and she was like, OK whatever. So this guy walks up to her and they start small talking, “How are you?” “Oh I’m from New Jersey” “New Jersey! Me too!” Well, the guy and his family get on the ride and sit in the front car and get the whole train to themselves. When they come around again Amanda tells them to sit in row six because it’s the fastest row. So they do and they love it. The entire time, however, this old guy keeps smiling at her and winking at her and she just assumes that he is a rich, creepy, old man. They leave and thank her and Amanda is none the wiser. The rich, creepy, old man was Bruce Willis.

                So I’m pissed! I saw stupid Michael Buble and Tia Mowry. Big Deal. Then, as I was giving up hope on hanging out with Tina Fey’s daughter (as did my friend, Nicky) I arrived at one of the most embarrassing days of my life. I was at unload, checking to see if anyone left something in their seat when Guest Relations tells me what’s going down. I get super excited and I look! … And it’s just some stupid family and I didn’t recognize any of them. So they are getting in the train and the dad is collecting bags and such and then he just stands there waiting for them to leave. Why he didn’t want to ride, I don’t know.

This is the dad but he was wearing khakis and a polo.

So I say, “Sir, I need you to step right behind this gate over here.” (Because no one can be in front of the gates except cast-members.) “Right over here, sir.” The man apparently does not understand me. “¡Señor, aquí! ¡Aquí! ¡Aquí!” Then, a man I did not see before from behind the gate says, “He doesn’t speak Spanish.” The man is wearing an Agent Smith earpiece and a fedora. Well the dad figures out what I’m trying to tell him and steps behind the gate with Agent Smith. The Guest Relations lady walks over to me and I say, “So who are these people?” and she says, “Oh. That’s the Royal Family of Morocco.”

…

Later that day I look them up on Wikipedia and I was floored. I told the King of Morocco, in Spanish, in my most impatient tone, to step behind the gate. They weren’t wearing crowns or anything! They looked just like a normal family! AND they totally looked Hispanic and not Middle Eastern.  I guess that Agent Smith was part of their secret service. The only actually really cool people that I met I was impatient with. Cool, Brad. Really cool.

So what can we learn from this story? Christina Aguilera seriously needs to lose her baby weight, that’s what.

Baby You're a Firework

                “We’re going to the dykes to watch the hillbillies and fireworks. What snacks should we bring?” This is said nearly every year on our day of independence; Independence Day. There is no good way to describe all the insane things that happen so we’ll just go in whichever order pops into my head.

                One year when I was really little, like, four or five, my sister Sam was super sick and I don’t know why we didn’t bring her to the hospital or something but she was puking her brains out and I was so annoyed with her. We had the blanket set up on the hill where we used to watch the fireworks and the night went something like this-

BOOM

 (gasp) “Cool"

(retching )

BOOM BOOM BOOM

“Awesome! Sam, look at that one!”

(vomit dripping down her chin, her four year old head weakly rises)

                Then, one year, we found this really great spot next to Carousel Skate! Carousel Skate is the most ghetto place in Sioux Falls. It’s a literal ghetto where parents and schools exile their children to fall on a slippery floor. When I was twelve, I loved it.

                The grand stands in Sioux Falls are across the river (The Big Sioux) from Carousel Skate and people pay something silly like five bucks to watch the fireworks on bleachers. Well, we would drive out the pick-up behind Carousel Skate and pile a whole bunch of blankets in the bed of the truck and watch the fireworks from the opposite side of the grand stands. For some reason we call this place the dykes.  The dykes are the most dangerous part of Sioux Falls, South Dakota for one night as other people have figured out this secret and they light off fireworks in the parking lots, out of their cars, into the river, at each other. It’s magnificent.

                The fourth is also Sarah’s birthday and I think that we have a tape of her every year opening presents and eating cake. (For several years she wanted fun-fetti cake with candy corn scattered in and on it. This year was a fun-fetti cake with gummy worms.) I have only found two tapes of Whitney’s birthday. So...

                Sarah also went through a faze where she was obsessed with Barbies. Granted, I did as well. That faze lasted for twelve years. So one year, my uncle gave Sarah this super nice, fancy, expensive, collectors Barbie. He said, “Now that’s a collector’s edition one. Make sure you keep that somewhere safe and don’t open it.” Barbie was getting a new hair style half an hour later. Two weeks later, she lost both her shoes. A month later, she was swimming in the Barbie pool with dandelions with significantly shorter hair.

                When I was old enough to drive (which was when I was fourteen- Go South Dakota!) my bff Rachael and I would park my car at the dykes SIX HOURS before night fall to make sure that we got the best spot. We would bring games and eat chips and make fun of the people who would trickle in after us. Since we were by the ghetto, at a place called the dykes, where people would shoot roman candles at each other, we were among a crowd that could be described as “trash” but could mostly be described as “South Dakota.” The prarie-billies bring their lawn chairs, their grills, firecrackers, babies; basically, anything they think they might need. 

                At nightfall, the fireworks begin and Rachael and I have made a game to describe each firework with an appropriate adjective. This year was by far the best year of adjectives and we left with a sense of accomplishment.

BOOM

“Astonishing!”

BOOM

“Meh. Subpar”

BOOM

“Glamorous!”

“Shocking!”

“Good.”

“Seizure inducing!”

 “Apocalyptic!”

Rachael would like the record to state that she thought of the last two.

                This year was the best year of the prairie-billies as well. First of all, someone drove their eighteen-wheeler out and backed it up to the hill next to the river. There wasn’t any cargo so the family just hung out on the back on the bed. It was sort of like how we do but obnoxious. There were American flag shirts galore. Every time Rachael would see one she would chant, “U-S-A all-the-way!” There were two little girls playing on top of a trailer in one of the parking lots. One family, however, took the cake. They drove out their cherry picker next to the semi and then proceeded to raise themselves thirty feet in the air to see the show across the river. Thirty feet. 

 The lift went even higher than shown above. And there's the semi...

 Notice the two kids giving the thumbs up. Lahv et.

We parked our car on the grass to the left of this photo. This car is supposed to be fifteen feet from the fire hydrant so... Whenever anyone tried to park in front of the the fire hydrant, Rachael would shout, "ILLEGAL! That's illegal." It wasn't so much about fire safety as much as we just wanted to keep the view clear.

              When the celebrating our independence is over, we drive back to civilization and hope that my car doesn’t get hit with a bottle rocket. (That happened one time.) What can we learn from the Fourth of July? Sarah was born on a holiday and is still the favorite. Sorry, Whit.