Despite having a theme park planned for today, we decided to start slowly. The plan was to be ready to leave the house by around 11 am. That would allow plenty of time for a relaxing, slow start without the usual mad rush to pack everything and get everyone out the door. I checked the My Disney Experience app and noted that the tickets for Dave and Jennfer were now accompanied by a barcode, which was not the case yesterday. This was a load off for me, as I had worried that something might have gone wrong with the ticket-purchasing process. This would eliminate the need to detour to Guest Services, which no doubt would have burned precious time.
Once through the security checkpoint and ticket stiles, we stopped at the wheelchair kiosk to pick up a wheelchair for us. With the sun beating down fiercely, the line of waiting electric mobility scooters was looking rather appealing. At $65 each (excluding a $20 refundable deposit), it’s not an insignificant investment, but both Dave and Jennifer, as well as we, decided we’d get one anyway. These would go a long way toward making the day more tolerable for both Dave and Joey, which, in turn, would translate into greater enjoyment for the rest of us. I had hoped that Joey would let Sandy use the scooter at least for some of the time. Unfortunately, that turned out to be more of a pipe dream in the end. Apparently, Sandy doesn’t like scooters and refused to use one.
As the day progressed, Joey’s mood and disposition slowly deteriorated. He became increasingly obstinate, refusing to listen to what I was telling him and not responding to what I was saying. By the time we were halfway around the World Showcase, he was in open rebellion, claiming he never wanted to come to EPCOT today to begin with. I’ll get to this in more detail in a moment. For now, there’s a turkey leg somewhere in this park with my name on it.
The plan for today was to head straight to the World Showcase section of the park. We would circumnavigate that before returning to the World Celebration section, which is where Test Track, Spaceship Earth, Mission Space, and so on are. For some reason, we’ve always traversed the World Showcase section clockwise, which is what we defaulted to today, too. That meant starting in Mexico. Because of Dave’s mild dementia, he can sometimes become a little overwhelmed or anxious. We had already had a few conversations about which rides might be a bit too intense for him, but the Gran Fiesta Tour boat ride, starring The Three Caballeros, seemed like a nice, gentle start to the day for him. It also had the merit of being an indoor attraction, so it was pleasantly air-conditioned. Joey elected not to go inside, choosing instead to sit on the electric mobility scooter defiantly. “Joey, park yourself over there in the shade, as you’ll overheat sitting here in the full sun.” Nothing. No verbal response. He didn’t look at me or acknowledge I’d said anything. Nothing at all. This was the first ominous sign that things were already deteriorating with him. I let out a massive sigh in my mind. I’m going to need to pull out all the parenting tricks if I’m to avert what looks like an already-percolating meltdown before this day is through.
Moving on from Mexico, we next entered Norway, which is home to the Frozen Ever After ride. This was previously the Maelstrom ride, but was rethemed back in 2016 following a two-year closure. We had the foresight to book a DAS return time for this as soon as we entered the park, so it was a straight walk-on by the time we arrived. Again, this would be something suitable for Dave—not too intense. This time, Joey decided to join us on the ride, although he was still being defiantly slow and non-communicative.
The next three country pavilions were China, Germany and Italy, but we passed through them without really stopping. Other than the odd snack, drink or merch purchase, we didn’t stop at every country’s pavilion. We’ve all seen them before, and there’s really not that much to see in some of the countries. We were making our way towards the back of the park to the USA pavilion. I was on a mission. We’ve never stopped at the USA pavilion before, but rumour had it that the famous Disney turkey legs were to be found there. In fact, Sandy spotted a man biting into one and stopped him in his tracks to quiz him on where he got it. To his credit, the man did his best to respond with some directions. English wasn’t his first language, but there was enough body language to pick up on the gist of the directions he was trying to describe. I missed out on these delicious turkey legs when we were at Disney Hollywood Studios, and I wasn’t going to go without one this time. I intended to track down and devour a turkey leg, or die trying.
We made it to the back of the park and, with a bit of last-minute asking for directions, I finally found my turkey leg food kiosk. I had a moment. For a split second, the image of the turkey leg on the kiosk menu appeared, softly illuminated, as ethereal music building to a crescendo suddenly enveloped me. I felt myself drifting towards the light, compelled by forces I couldn’t understand, nor care about. “Yes. Sir? Can I help you? HELLO?” I was snatched back to reality by the cast member looking at me expectantly. “I’ll take one,” was about all I could muster through my primordial salivating. She handed me the leg, cooked to a golden brown and with the thin end wrapped in a paper napkin. This thing was enormous—about the size of a grapefruit. It looked like something straight out of The Flintstones. I was in the process of moving the juicy drumstick-on-steroids towards my mouth when Jennifer commented that Dave would really enjoy one of those. Seeing one in the flesh, Dave fancied having a crack at one of the giant oversized drumsticks, also. I resisted the urge to bite into it, handed it to Jennifer for Dave instead, and ordered (begged for?) another from the lovely woman at the kiosk. Dave, Jae and I all sat in the air-conditioned USA pavilion restaurant. We suppressed all lingering thoughts about turkeys hobbling around with crutches, and blissfully enjoyed our primaeval lunch. Life was good.
With lunch out of the way, along with any remaining hope of weight loss for the coming weeks, we pressed on through Japan and Morocco before reaching France, where our next DAS return time awaited us. The Ratatouille ride was one we were all looking forward to—even Dave.
Joey was by now in open rebellion, complaining he never wanted to come to EPCOT to begin with. When he gets like this, Joey becomes progressively non-compliant and oppositional. If I ask him to do something, he’ll deliberately refuse, or worse still, he’ll purposely do the opposite. If I suggest he park in the shade, he’ll defiantly sit in the sun. He has a hat, but stubbornly refuses to wear it—or, at least, he refuses to follow any suggestion that wearing a hat will benefit him. Eventually, it becomes hopeless, and the best we can do is be there for him and offer reassurance—about all we can do. We’ve long since learned that getting frustrated with him is a futile waste of energy that will often only exacerbate the situation—although it has to be said that it doesn’t stop us from getting frustrated. I eventually convinced Joey to at least go on the Ratatouille ride with us. I think he had fond memories of it from when we were at Disneyland Paris some years ago. The fact that I got him to get up from his scooter and follow me was already a win for me. He gave me two or three cuddles first. This is always a good sign. It’s his way of saying, “I’m not OK. I want or need your reassurance, but I don’t have the capacity to verbalise it.” Patience was the order of the moment. Suppressing my autonomic frustration response and just being there for him—regardless of how much that means deviating from what we’re doing—was the right parenting move. I hadn’t lost my patience to the point that I could no longer rationally recognise this, so I count that as a win also.
Passing through the fake façades of the United Kingdom pavilion (all the countries present fake perspectives that pander to idealistic tourist expectations) and, finally, Morocco, we completed our World Showcase circuit. We were within striking distance of our dining reservation at the Garden Grill restaurant, but there was enough time to pop over to pick up our DAS return time for Guardians of the Galaxy: Cosmic Rewind. As expected, Dave decided to sit this one out, as intense rides like Guardians can make him quite anxious. For the rest of us, this turned out, somewhat predictably, to be one of the highlight attractions of the entire day. This was our second visit to EPCOT. We loved Guardians when we were here a few days back, and even our friend Jennifer admitted this was the best ride of the day.
Once we had all reassembled, admired the ride photos added to our PhotoPass, and posed for the Disney photographers at the starship in front of the ride building, it was time to part company with Jae, who decided not to stick around for dinner but instead wanted to grab an Uber back home. I would have preferred that Jae continue with us, but she’s an adult now and capable of making these decisions for herself. I didn’t want to force the issue with her. I offered Joey the choice to go back home in the Uber with his sister. This created an immediate physiological response from him. He clenched his fists and tightened his shoulders, telling me he didn’t feel safe in an unfamiliar car. I was really quite impressed that he was at the very least able to articulate this. That’s huge. It makes life for Sandy and me so much easier when we know what his problems are—it gives us the tools to help accommodate his needs.
We made our way over to The Land building for this evening’s character dining reservation. Dave had yielded his mobility scooter to Jennifer, who convinced Joey to race. Unfortunately, I forgot to provide specific details about where they needed to be, but they both raced ahead without considering exactly where they were going. Consequently, the rest of us arrived, but they were nowhere to be seen. Fortunately, everyone had a mobile phone, and we were soon all reunited at the restaurant’s entrance.
The Garden Grill restaurant is somewhat unique. The entire seating section is circular and rotates slowly. As you dine, the view out from the booth slowly shifts through rainforests, to savannas and farm buildings. It takes about an hour to complete a full revolution, which is about how long it takes to complete the meal. We were served various meats and veggies in a family-style buffet, with skillets of food brought to our table, from which we each took what we wanted to add to our plates. It’s not a cheap meal (nothing at Disney is cheap), so when it became painfully clear Joey wasn’t going to eat much, if anything at all, Sandy asked our waiter if they could at least bring some chips (French fries) to the table. Alas, the restaurant doesn’t serve chips. The waiter explained that this restaurant didn’t have the facilities to fry chips, and the only other place was in an adjacent building. When Sandy drew our waiter’s attention to the dilemma of Joey not having anything to eat, he went to discuss it with the chef to see what they could do. He came back ten minutes later with a skillet full of freshly fried chips. Apparently, they had sent someone to the pavilion across the road to get them!
Throughout the meal, Chip and Dale, Pluto and Mickey each did the rounds, stopping at our table now and then. Once again, the cast members under the hoods did a fantastic job communicating solely through body language and gestures. They were even able to answer our many questions about whether Chip and Dale were the same species (Chip has a black nose, while Dale’s is brown, but they are apparently still both chipmunks), whether they were brothers (they are), who was the eldest, and so on. Seeing the characters’ reactions to us each time the penny dropped and we understood their response was hilarious. It really lifted the mood around the table.
Whether it was the sweet, cute interactions with the characters or simply the fact that he now had food in his tummy, Joey’s improved mood at the end of the meal was like night and day. He had undergone a fantastic transformation. You wouldn’t have said it was the same Joey. He was chatty, interactive, laughing, cracking jokes, and ribbing his dad normally again. When we emerged from the restaurant, dusk was setting in. Still, I wanted to capitalise on Joey’s improved disposition, so I suggested we walk on to Soarin’ Around the World, which was in this building just down the escalators. It took a little bit of describing for Dave before he was ultimately persuaded, but he eventually agreed. Fortunately, there was no wait to speak of. We were at the loading point and in our ride chairs within a few minutes. Everyone loved the Soarin’ ride—including Dave. I was especially pleased since it was mainly at my insistence that we did the ride. I had fond memories of this ride and was a little put out that we didn’t get to do it when we were here a few days ago. At the time, I bit my tongue to preserve the peace after it became clear nobody else was keen.
By now, the dusk had progressed to night, but we still had a small handful of options left. In the adjacent building, The Seas, there are a couple of very gentle kid-friendly rides which would be no-brainers for Dave. The Seas with Nemo and Friends is an indoor dark ride where you sit in clamshell ride vehicles (a continuous, slow-moving train loop) that take you through marine scenes. Screens depicting Nemo and characters from the movie tell the story of Nemo’s loss and ultimately finding. It’s a cute children’s ride that everyone is sure to enjoy. Or so I thought.
As sometimes happens with continuous-loop rides like this one, the vehicles’ forward motion occasionally comes to a brief stop. This is typically to accommodate a loading or unloading delay, like when someone takes longer to get on or off the ride due to mobility issues or whatever. This happened while we were on the ride, which evidently caused some anxiety for Dave. He was a few clamshells behind us, so I hadn’t noticed it, but he evidently had a bit of a panic attack. Fortunately, Jennifer was with him to help him through the situation. She later told me that Dave wasn’t expecting the ride to stall. It was dark, we were underground, and he felt closed in and claustrophobic. She tried to alleviate the situation by shining her mobile phone torch, but that didn’t go down very well. Though Dave has a genuine issue and needs surrounding his dementia, he’s still proud and probably didn’t want to be the centre of attention. What’s perhaps more noteworthy here isn’t so much the illness Dave is challenged with, but the way Jennifer is constantly there for him, dealing with the fallout, whatever the situation. She’s a remarkable woman—strong, confident, steadfast and loving. The toll that caring for Dave must be having on her must be enormous. This is something we can relate to, as it parallels the consequences we face in caring for Joey’s constant needs. Dave was clearly shaken by the experience, commenting on it several times throughout the rest of the evening, as if trying to work through it and reconcile it in his mind. If nothing else, this situation demonstrates how something seemingly small and innocuous to the outside observer can result in a significant impact on a carer’s daily life. These are the things that go unnoticed by onlookers, but things we have to deal with daily. Life for us works better when we don’t have to worry about the stigma of other people watching on in judgment over things they couldn’t possibly fully comprehend when they glimpse the surface of a profoundly complex care situation. Alas, the toxic baggage of that self-consciousness and fear of being judged by outsiders isn’t something one can easily jettison. If only that were the case.
Dave’s panic attack had more of an impact than was immediately visually apparent, as he elected to stand outside for the one final attraction the rest of us ended up doing, which was the Turtle Talk with Crush interactive chat session. Crush the Turtle talks live to a small audience of 80-100 people per 10-minute show. It’s an interactive session where Crush talks and moves in the on-screen animation in sync with live audio from the behind-the-scenes operator. The effect is a very realistic interactive session with a turtle—quite impressive.
Once we were outside again, the now completely dark skies were accentuated by the brilliant lightshow from the Spaceship Earth ball, with its LEDs illuminating the skies and pathways around us. We returned the electric mobility scooters and made our way out of the park and homeward bound.
Joey had been telling us about a particular Transformer toy he is super keen on getting. He found it for sale at Target, but the nearest store with one in stock was over an hour away—somewhere close to Tampa. I was on the fence about this, as it was stretching the limits of how far we would go to accommodate him on this holiday. When we got home, I did some calling, all the while under Joey’s watchful and hopeful eye. The store in question confirmed that they did indeed have the toy in stock. However, by the time they could confirm this, it was only an hour and a half until their closing time. According to the satnav, it would take an hour and a quarter to get there. This left no margin for error with traffic or any other delay. When that penny dropped and I had to let Joey know it wouldn’t be possible to drive there this evening, I could see the near blind panic radiating from his eyes across his entire face. Again, his fists clenched and his shoulders tensed. It was a clear physiological reaction to the unwelcome news. The best I could do was to arrange for them to hold the toy for us so I could drive there in the morning. I think Joey slept on tenterhooks through the entire night.
Today was a success—not because of what we did, but because of the company we were in—today reminded me of why we are such close friends with Dave and Jennifer. We slipped back into the same friendship routine we last experienced over two decades ago, as if no time had elapsed and we had just casually picked up from where we left off. It was the same banter and mutual understanding that comes with a close friendship. It was as if we just hit the pause button twenty-three years ago when Sandy and I emigrated from the US. We left our lives there for good, ironically spending our last few weeks living with Dave and Jennifer. We had sold our house, but our departure date was still a few weeks away, and we needed a roof over our heads. Dave and Jennifer invited us in without a single thought of not doing so. Today we took the friendship back off pause again—like it was the most normal thing in the world. Had we met this week for the first time, I have no doubt we would have immediately developed the same deep, caring friendship that has endured over the decades. To me, that’s a defining characteristic of a true friendship. Yes, we all have new challenges we have to deal with. Dave’s dementia, Joey’s autism, Sandy’s husband, etc. But beneath it all is that enduring friendship—like old leather. Comfortable, fitting, reassuring. Long may it continue.