Guest Entry: Poison Appletini (JJ Has Gay Day)

(Here is a guest entry from longtime Carthay Drinking Companion JJ - see below entry if you would like to submit yours!)

The first weekend in October is Gay Days, so I knew it was going to be crowded.  On Saturday, the heat left me with no patience for anything, so I met a friend at Carthay.  I was excited that their seasonal Poison Appletini was back.  Somehow, I remember it tasting better last year, but I had two just to make sure.  I didn't think to ask what was in it, but it mostly tastes like that artificial apple candy flavoring.  It's not very strong except in its impact on your wallet ($15).

It was much cooler on Sunday, but also more crowded, since a lot more annual passes were unblocked.  I wanted to try to get on Tower of Terror once more before my pass expires, but the line was 150 minutes long!  I didn't even know the wait time sign could go up that high.

Here's a view of the dirt pit that will be Star Wars Land from the parking structure.

The Rivers of America is blocked off, just past where the Colombia is docked.

The path from Frontierland to Fantasyland ends just past Big Thunder Mountain, and there's a mural of what Star Wars Land is expected to look like.

The only noticable difference from the Fantasyland side, is that the chalet end of the old Skyway is gone.

 

I still haven't been on Peter Pan since the last time it was updated... It was open, but also being worked on.

Other than that, everything else was open.. as long as you had the patience to wait for it!

~J.

Submissions Welcome!

To all who come to this happy blog, waffles!

This blog is your blog.

I no longer live in California, and can no longer call the Carthay Lounge my local. I do not know if I will ever set foot again in that happy den of antiquity. But it would please me deeply if others would report back to me on their experiences in a place that seemed to be designed with me in mind. 

The Lounge is yours now.

I would love to publish new entries here by anyone who visits the Carthay Lounge and wants to contribute to this blog. Write down your thoughts and feelings, take a picture or two if you are able, send them to me, and I will publish them here. Your entry need not be elitist falderal written in a gourmand's vernacular. I'd like to publish the notes of the everyday person like myself.

Send your entry to zoenecrosis [at] gmail [dot] com

Don't worry about whether what you're reporting on has already been covered somewhere in this blog over the last four years. I'd love to vicariously continue dwelling in the Carthay Lounge through those of you still residing in proximity to Buena Vista Street, so please don't hesitate to message me.

Until then,
Cheers.
~Zoe Necrosis

Last Call: Carthay Diamond Manhattan

By the time you read this I will be living in New England.

The entry below this one details my last visit to the Park. This entry details the hour or so that afternoon in which I said farewell to the Lounge.

Naturally I was compelled to enjoy an old standard that welcomed me to this (once) tranquil place years ago.

Carthay Diamond Manhattan: Bulleit Rye Small Batch American Whiskey, Carpano Antica Sweet Vermouth, Angostura Bitters, and Luxardo Garret Maraschino Cherries served with Diamond shaped Ice, made with locally sourced Purified Water.

Same old well-made Manhattan, new ice cube shape.

The ambiance of the place had shifted on me, solely because of the number of people who pour into the Lounge the moment it opens. It is not abnormal now for a queue of people to stand outside - throughout the day - and wait for enough space to open up for them to be allowed inside.

There was a time when I would while away the hours in the Lounge, practically the place to myself, rarely more than half full. I would sit at the bar, scribbling in my notebooks, perhaps chatting with the bartender and swapping a few stories. Those were the days.

Anyway - right - I was hungry. I am happy to report that the Lounge menu finally has a snack (as of this writing) that I find delicious and irresistible (after the sad disappearance of the Moroccan Meatballs; how I miss them still).

"Tostaditas." Mole Verde-braised Pork Cheeks, Avocado, Queso Fresco & Hibiscus Sorbet.

So good. The cooks in the downstairs Lounge have always been on their game. There's probably a logical explanation for why the food upstairs has always been pedestrian in comparison, but that information has never been known to me.

The last taste of the Lounge I wanted to enjoy was a Brandy Alexander, for two reasons: 1. Its creaminess and hint of nutmeg practically makes it a desert. 2. I doubt I will ever find another venue that will make another for me.

An intonation I hear in my head not infrequently of late is "those were the days."

The Parting Of Ways

My life has taken an exciting turn and I am moving to Massachusetts. This is particularly thrilling because I have never even visited New England. I've been a Southlander since birth. I've never even seen snow falling.

As excited as I am for this change, for this chance to reinvent my life, it means leaving a few things behind. This includes Disneyland, for which I have continually owned an annual pass for (nearly, if not) two decades. I remember being pleased that my plebeian retail job afforded me the luxury of splurging on the $159 Premium Pass, with no blackout dates. There are people who are more old-school Disneyland fanatics than me, but if you're reading this blog there's little chance you're one of them.

Disneyland spent the past twenty years aggressively trying to recruit as many passholders as possible and are now trying to purge nearly all of them. Management has been put off by the fact that the nearly one million passholders don't gobble up the Parks' merchandise voraciously. They grouse at this while ignoring the fact that no longer does any Land or shop carry specialized, unique or interesting souvenirs, merely the same generically-branded Disney Parks™ shopping mall rubbish throughout.

Whether or not I would have bothered renewing my pass in 2016 (unlikely) conveniently needn't be addressed, as I am moving across the country. What I did need to do, however, was make one last trip to the Park, elbow my way through the throngs of people, and say goodbye to a few favorite places and experiences.

First I drove 90 minutes to get from my current abode in San Diego to Anaheim, then queued among other cars for 30 minutes in order to finally arrive at a parking space.

There used to be an off-season at Disneyland. Those were the days. The Park now offers 365 days of nightmare crowds.

As I leave the Mickey & Friends Parking Structure I pass the useless signs advising that selfie-sticks are not permitted in the Parks; they are pointless because they are only in English, and those who can read it find ways to easily sneak them in all the same so that they can impale any who come within proximity of their narcissism. 

On to my first stop upon finally parking my car...

Favorite Restroom: the Adventureland Tower of the Disneyland Hotel.

This is my favorite lavatory because it is down a flight of stairs and I generally always have it to myself. Also, while visiting you get to listen to the Adventureland Tower muzak loop, which includes the score from The Jungle Book.

Though I mostly had it to myself, just before departing a Cast Member entered and was demonstrably angry that someone else was using what was clearly his special place.

9am: Favorite Place For a Coffee (Sometimes Irish) and Croissant: The Hearthstone Lounge.

It's a cozy, quiet place for a cup of joe to kick-start your adventures. This Lounge and I go way back, and have a lot of fond shared memories. Silvia and I once brought around a hundred people here in one evening. Those were the days.

While waiting in line for Bag Check - a pointless procedure done purely for show - I read six pages of 'Royal Assassin' by Robin Hobb - book 2 of The Farseer Trilogy.

Favorite Way to Traverse the Berm of Disneyland Park: passing through the left arch under the train station. I'm rather OCD about the left arch. It makes for a more enjoyable unfolding of the Main Street experience.

At the end of Main Street I pass by what used to be the Carnation Plaza Pavilion, which is now the Princess Petting Zoo (or something).

I recall coming here on Saturday nights with my friend Kate so we could drink cheap coffee and listen to the Big Band. We never danced. We left that to Rose and Dubby. They were always the swingenest folk on the floor, each week sporting a matching set of clothes sewn by Rose. One week they wore head to toe leopard print. I will always think of them when I hear the song "Oh Marie." One day Silvia and I were listening to a set by Stompy Jones when the singer mentioned that Rose and Dubby had passed - Rose one month after Dubby - after being married for 69 years. He said that every week they would ask the band to play "Oh Marie," and that in their honor they'd like to play it one more time.

At 9:50am I joined the queue for Peter Pan, knowing that it would swell intensely in the next hour and not abate until park closing. 

Another memory: the old couple whom I would often see at the very end of the queue for Peter Pan at Disneyland's closing time. She had fluffy, white hair like a balloon of cotton candy surrounding her head. He, like her, was reticent and sullen-looking. They lingered always just at the entrance to the queue, making certain each night that they were the absolute last two people to ride Peter Pan. Though I appreciated their singular compulsiveness, I viewed them with the kind of smug derision afforded to youth. I'm ashamed of that now.

I spent some of the time in the queue playing peekaboo with the Wicked Queen across the way. I'm not sure if anyone else in line took note of her. We, as a species, don't look up much anymore.

Some in line envied my foresight in bringing a book along. Chapter 8 of Royal Assassin: Fitz finds Verity in his chambers, sleepless, dreading the vengeful hunt that is about to ensue. Queen Kettricken was attacked the evening previous, and he fears that a bloodbath is about to rampage across Buckkeep, residents turned against one another in unfettered slaughter. I won't go in to what Fitz hears Queen Kettricken say to the crowd in the square, or how Verity, Regal and Chade react, because: spoilers.

Like Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, the Peter Pan attraction got a tuneup recently, including the addition of a handful of new digital projections. The scenes where the rider flies over London looks as though the previous lighting system has been supplanted by LEDs, making it very over-lit in general. Several years ago Pirates of the Caribbean endured a similar worsening, making it now all too easy to see the ceiling and the walls at all times, whereas before the illusion of being outside at night was very convincing. 

At 11:15am I elected to check in at the eponymous source of this blog, the Carthay Lounge. At the door a Cast Member greets me with a smile full of loathing and asks: "How can I assist you?" Translation: "What do you want, you filthy peasant?" I wanted to know if the Lounge was open. Not until 11:30.

I'm very hungry at this point. To tide me over I go into the burger place in Condor Flats and steal a slice of tomato from the accouterments bar.

The area was recently re-themed and renamed, now that I think of it, making it effectively annexed by the Grizzly Peak area. My favorite piece of art department created for this makeover is the vacation camper. Get close enough and you can not only hear the radio playing period tunes but smell the car's leathery interior.

I spent a few minutes getting a last look at the Animation Building. The multistory projections of background art have had their analog beauty supplanted by low-resolution digital versions, degrading the joy once had by viewing detailed enlargements of artwork by Eyvind Earl and Mary Blair. The whole affair is now just a blurry eyesore. Some things about DCA were actually better back in 2000.

The zoetrope room is happily still open, though I don't imagine it is long for this world. 

What used to be the last third of the Sorcerer's Workshop, Ursula's Grotto, has been closed off to serve as a staging area for the Cast Members working in the Anna and Elsa meet and greet. (Above we see the shuttered entrance.)

 

The Beast's Library is still open and remains relevant because it not only enable guests to take a selfie but is the amusement park equivalent of a clickbait article.

At 11:35am I entered the Carthay Lounge and took one of the few seats still free five minutes after opening the doors.

This final visit is documented in a separate entry found directly above this one.

1:30pm. I join the Single Rider Line for Radiator Springs Racers, the make-up date created to right the wrongs committed by Paul Pressler and Michael Eisner when DCA opened fifteen years ago.

I am the only single party in the Single Rider Line. The rest of the queue is occupied by groups that will make excuses at the front for why they need to be together or begin playing Chinese Fire Drill and make maintaining the load count impossible.

I imagine being a loader on this attraction is a kind of hellish frustration.

Elements of the ride not operational on this particular day:

• The two tractors do not tip over at all.
• The third tractor does not emit a puff of smoke when it farts, but then this effect has not worked since opening day, and never will.
• In the Luigi's Tires area, although the curtain closes and opens to reveal whitewalls, the hydraulics no longer lift the car when Guido is ostensibly changing the tires.

Given the size of the ride and number of animatronics contained, it is unlikely there has ever been a single day when 100% of the attraction has functioned properly.

At 4pm I find myself at the second-best venue for people-watching. First Place goes to the benches on Main Street across from the Crystal Arcade. The runner-up is the beer garden that looks out over the Pacific Wharf area. The muzak loop is one of the only that has remained unchanged since DCA's opening, and invokes many reminiscences. 

When I traipse back to Main Street I realize why the Park is no longer branded as "The Happiest Place on Earth." Visiting is now more of an endurance feat than a pleasant foray into escapism.

At 5:35pm I am sitting on the train, waiting to depart from Toontown Station. We're not going anywhere. No explanation given. This was the only ride and entry point I could find with a less than 1 hour queue. A Cast Member walks past our carriage speaking into a Wallie-talkie. I overhear the words "fire issues."

Fifteen minutes later we are told to "just get off."

6:05pm at the Storybook Canal Boats. Cast Members are attempting to retrieve someone's selfie-stick from the water, unsuccessfully. 

I ride it, one of the last attractions remaining from opening day in 1955.

The illuminated fountains of Pixie Hollow used to be beautiful to behold at night. They no longer function because they do not feature Star Wars merchandise, so there is no reason to be bothered about their upkeep.

Hoping to end the evening on a positive note I visit a treasured classic standby, my favorite of all Disneyland attractions that are Permanent Installations of Previous World's Fair Exhibits: Great Moments With Mr Lincoln.

This show went through a few varied manifestations, not all of them dignified, including an awkward phase when the animatronic portion was whittled down to the Gettysburg Address, almost as an afterthought to an uncomfortable experience involving headphones fixed at a high volume. (The viewer was meant to be impressed by a stereophonic simulation of being a Union soldier getting their hair cut - the result was the disturbing sensation of a stranger breathing in your ear in the dark then nearly severing it with shears. Guests rightfully reacted by removing the headphones and exiting the theater early after exclaiming in revulsion or terror.) The current version, happily, is a well-intentioned homage to the original presentation that debuted sometime in the 1960's. 

The show I saw was more or less what I remember as a child, awed at Lincoln's dramatic rise and the deepening colors of the breaking dawn backdrop as the music swells to crescendo.

I could do without the tacky 21st century exeunt music, but whatever. Lincoln lives.

And so, on that note, I began walking to the parking structure, not looking back.