Just back from Walt Disney World, a carnival of conspicuous consumption populated by kids in strollers and adults on scooters, suggesting that the idea for
Wall-E was hatched right on the premises.
While there, it struck me that
It’s a Small World isn’t just a popular ride, it’s a metaphor for the whole wonderful place. I heard fellow tourists speak Spanish, Portugese, Japanese, German and French, not to mention the many, many folks fluent in the unmistakable tongue of the magical kingdom of Lawn Guyland.
More than languages, I noticed accents that revealed that English has more varieties than Baskin-Robbins. I overheard a man from the deep South talking to his wife, two-syllable Kim. On the beach at the Polynesian resort, there was a fawtha from Bawston exhorting Lee-um to get ouhtta da watta. And there were many friendly folks from Minnesconsin havin’ a grand time, dontcha know?
But nothing hit quite as hard as that moment at Animal Kingdom when we encountered the cast of
Oliver! and their mum, Shrewy Spice, whose lone parenting tactic was to speak loudly and threaten ‘er children. A note to Shrewy’s husband, Ian – excuse me,
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-
an: the dagger tattoo on your pipe-cleaner arm cannot disguise that you are one seriously hen-pecked bloke.
