A week of electrocution in the Mouse World

One of my main concerns, aside from the 13 hour drive, was my stupid ass back and neck pain. It's been plaguing me for so long, with no medical professional in my entire area willing to drug me into submission, that I was concerned i'd make it to Disney and immediately collapse.
My doctors idea of a good solution to this problem was to strap an electrical device to myself so that I could walk around in gazillion degree heat surrounded by baby buggies threatening my achilles tendons and ankle biters screaming at the tops of their lungs. I felt as though the urge to rip a censor off of my back and zap one of those little turds all the way down Main Street would be far too strong to resist. I also wasn't all that sure of how many weird looks I would get with wires coming out of my shirt or how I would manage to stand in hour long lines for 6 days in a row when doing anything repeatedly for more than 5 minutes at a time makes me an incredibly high level of stabby.

attractive, yes?

I have to be honest, the pain getting to Disney was some of the nastiest i'd ever felt- but once I actually got out of that stupid fucking car and got to moving... it wasn't all that bad. Sure, I had medical tape ripping at the baby hairs (YES BABY HAIRS) on my back all day, and the censors were constantly peeling off due to sweat, but zapping myself into happy land whenever I felt the tiniest bit of pain wasn't all that bad. I don't know if that old saying about a body in motion staying in motion was right, or if there really is crack in the air- but it most definitely wasn't as miserable as I had assumed it would be originally.

Of course, having the box slip down my pants and fall out of a leg hole wasn't all that pleasant (and not the SLIGHTEST bit embarrassing either!), neither was the constant fear of dropping the thing in the toilet and having the lovely zappy feeling move into electrocution territory... but there IS a silver lining, believe it or not.

Upon the urging from friends to try and make this ugly and painful situation work in my favor, I hobbled my ass over to information and explained my issue to them. I'm not one to abuse the system- I consider myself honest to a fault- but FUCK, I paid a fortune to go to Disney, so it had better be fucking enjoyable, even if that meant making the system work in my favor. 

Disney being Disney (aka the happiest place on earth), upon seeing my predicament and hearing my tale of woe, handed me a little red card... or as I like to call it: the card to the world. The golden ticket. A chorus of people sang behind me. Now, I wont tell you it got me to the front of EVERY line but it most certainly helped, and I think because of that card we got to do absolutely everything we wanted to at Disney without me crumpling to the floor sobbing like the whiny brats around me in the middle of an 80 minute wait. 

Being that I am a young and healthy looking female, and I learned ways to hide the censors and wires to just look like an iPod, trust me when I say I got a FUCKTON of dirty looks when employees let me cut in line or I walked into the handicap entrance and bypassed an hour of waiting- and I won't lie, not only did I question the OTHER people with the same kind of pass (you look totally fucking normal, what the hell could be wrong with YOU?), I did feel a little bad about having one- but then I thought about how it would probably RUIN my kids' trip if I had to give up halfway through a day because standing in too many lines made the pain unbearable. Still, I was tempted multiple times to flash my back at people giving me the stink eye and to ask them how they'd like to stand in 86 degree weather with severe pain and electrocution going through their backs.

Of course, the silver lining also has a few stains. I may have gotten to bypass a few lines, but I also left Disney covered in hives for the 2nd year in a row, because not only does the water there cause Kaleidoscope Shit, but it makes my skin quite literally HATE being on my body.  So now I am an itchy, welt covered red mess and all I want to do is sit in a bathtub full of calamine lotion and call it a night. Maybe with a drink or ten- hey, I deserve it, right?