Here is an interesting fact. The area of land owned by Disneyland Resorts at Marne-La-Vallee just south of Paris (on which Disneyland Paris is constructed) is perfectly circular (look at it on Google Maps and you will see what I mean). What is less well known is the fact that Disney have options over two further areas of land adjoining the existing holding which, if exercised would form (alongside the existing resort) an area of land the shape of Mickey Mouse's head. Fact. And interesting. Don't you think?
I was completely oblivious to this piece of fascinating trivia when I turned up at Disneyland resort late one Friday evening in about 2003 to join my young family who had journeyed down there from London on the Eurostar earlier that day. The kids (then about 3 and 7) were tucked up in bed when I arrived at our room in one of the many themed hotels at the resort and after a room service Mickey Burger (which I ate having strangely failed to find anything French on the menu in the capital of France) I drifted off into the land of nod.
The following morning we (well, the kids, not me) awoke with eager anticipation of the Character Breakfast which - according to the marketing blurb - was "the ultimate way to meet and interact with your favourite stars of Disney's animated films". So - imagine being a 3 year old kid whose only previous experience of Disney's chipmunks had been seeing their playful frolics alongside Snow White and the seven vertically challenged ones. Cute, playful, cuddly little creatures tugging at Snow White's skirt and disappearing into holes in the trunks of trees in search of acorns and nuts to throw at each other, the little scamps. Imagine the expectation of a couple of playful critters bounding across the tables and scuttling up the curtains, pausing only to be stroked and petted by the spellbound kids.
And then imagine the horror of the same 3 year old kid being confronted by two fucking massive six foot chipmunks with three foot wide expressionless heads suddenly appearing above the rim of his cornflake bowl. The poor lad was terrified as these mute mutants towered above him giving it the full "jazz hands" as they stared into middle space like some deranged monsters from a 1970s episode of Dr Who. The little fellow immediately vaulted into my lap and buried his tear-strewn face into my chest, his sobs increasing as my soothing words were drowned out by the fifteenth chorus of "Happy Birthday" of the morning, as yet another candlelit cake made its way to yet another table occupied by yet another obese family who had read about the special birthday breakfast offer. (What are the chances of so many people sharing the same birthday and happening to be at Disneyland Resort all at the same time? Very slim (unlike them). Because they were all lying).
I was completely oblivious to this piece of fascinating trivia when I turned up at Disneyland resort late one Friday evening in about 2003 to join my young family who had journeyed down there from London on the Eurostar earlier that day. The kids (then about 3 and 7) were tucked up in bed when I arrived at our room in one of the many themed hotels at the resort and after a room service Mickey Burger (which I ate having strangely failed to find anything French on the menu in the capital of France) I drifted off into the land of nod.
The following morning we (well, the kids, not me) awoke with eager anticipation of the Character Breakfast which - according to the marketing blurb - was "the ultimate way to meet and interact with your favourite stars of Disney's animated films". So - imagine being a 3 year old kid whose only previous experience of Disney's chipmunks had been seeing their playful frolics alongside Snow White and the seven vertically challenged ones. Cute, playful, cuddly little creatures tugging at Snow White's skirt and disappearing into holes in the trunks of trees in search of acorns and nuts to throw at each other, the little scamps. Imagine the expectation of a couple of playful critters bounding across the tables and scuttling up the curtains, pausing only to be stroked and petted by the spellbound kids.
And then imagine the horror of the same 3 year old kid being confronted by two fucking massive six foot chipmunks with three foot wide expressionless heads suddenly appearing above the rim of his cornflake bowl. The poor lad was terrified as these mute mutants towered above him giving it the full "jazz hands" as they stared into middle space like some deranged monsters from a 1970s episode of Dr Who. The little fellow immediately vaulted into my lap and buried his tear-strewn face into my chest, his sobs increasing as my soothing words were drowned out by the fifteenth chorus of "Happy Birthday" of the morning, as yet another candlelit cake made its way to yet another table occupied by yet another obese family who had read about the special birthday breakfast offer. (What are the chances of so many people sharing the same birthday and happening to be at Disneyland Resort all at the same time? Very slim (unlike them). Because they were all lying).
My first yellow card offence was then committed when I told the Chipmunks to "piss off and leave us alone" so that we could finish our breakfast in peace (I had previous in this regard having only a few weeks previously received a straight red for shouting "wanker" at H from Steps at a concert at Wembley Arena when he murdered Careless Whisper live on stage - to be fair one of the few bits of live singing on show that particular day). But I digress....
Once everyone had calmed down, we readied ourselves for the magical experience of the park itself. "In a Magical Kingdom not so far away - somewhere between a place where you wish upon a star and dreams come true - Disney heroes and heroines live in fairytales that are, happily, never ending." Hmmm. The only thing that was never ending that weekend were the queues. And the rows and rows of Disney stores. The part of suburban Marne-la-Vallee known as Main Street USA (I think it was called that, anyway) is lined with cutesie little village stores such as "Al's Muffin Shop" and "Bill's Barber shop", but anyone who wishes to buy a muffin or have a haircut will be disappointed to find that these shops sell nothing other than shelf upon shelf of Disney memorabilia.
>And the rain. Relentless Northern European rain, falling incessantly on the snaking queues of stiff upper lipped Brits stoically enduring their never ending wait for a two minute spin in a motorised tea cup. Or to watch a group of petulant froggies dressed as Disney Characters parade miserably along the Disney Store-lined boulevards of Disneyland Paris in the driving pluie.
My second yellow was issued for persistent dissent and I was sent back to the hotel for an early bath (or rather an early drink) ahead of the evening attraction, Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show.
