|luke you turd
Eva Slate
|Have fun Amazing Alice! Are you free to Skype later? Miss yooooooou.
‘DUDES, ONLY AFIFTY-MINUTE QUEUE FOR THIS ONE!’ I am positively screaming, and people are staring, but I don’t care. I’m wearing official mouse ears and a Disney jumper, and I’ve never been happier.
Dom smiles, but Isy looks bored already.
We are in actual Disneyland, and on a sort of pseudodouble-date with me, Dom, Isy, Ethan and an enthusiastic fifth wheel in the form of my AirBnB host, Patrick. He is almost as excited as I am.
SoOK, we have spent most of the day so far in queues, but it’s worth it! And it’s definitely been a high point after a busy week of trying to be A Good Tourist.
Since that night getting physicallyand literally high on the Ferris wheel with Dom, we’ve spent much more time interacting with Other People and doing Actual Things.
I wanted to tick off the list of stuff Constance Beaumont said on her blog that you have to do inLA. So we went on a long bike ride, which ended in the bad kind of hysterics when Iface-planted on the pavement, grazed my knees and wept on the side of the road.Then we went to see the Venice Canals, which Constance said were ‘spectacular’, but were onlyOK. It was kind of cloudy and they just looked like muddy streams to me. We have better canals in theUK, and I will fight anyone who says otherwise. We also planned a day at Silver Lake with a picnic, like Constance did, but then got stuck in traffic for four hours and ended up giving up and going hometo drink gin. It wasn’t all alet-down though. We took the Universal Studios tour, and it was fun snapping a few thousand pictures like true tourists! But then I had to delete most of them to free up space on my phone for our visit to Madame Tussauds in Hollywood. I got a selfie with the Rihanna waxwork and then I cried again, but that was happy crying.
Dom has been very patient with my endlessthirst for tourist attractions. And AirBnB Patrick has become a bit of a partner in crime to the pair of us. He’s such a lot of fun, I’m so glad I’m staying with him, and delighted he’s here with us today, too. Isy and Ethan were alast-minute addition this morning, finally emerging from their sex bubble, and now we are all here and I cannot stop screaming. We’re at actual Disneyland! I’ve beento the one in Paris with Eva, Karen and Slutty Sarah, and it was the best long weekend ever. So I know today is going to be awesome.
I am very aware of my time in America running out, and I feel slightly panicky about it. I’m stuck in Fun Mode. I really don’t want to leave. I don’t think I’m ready for too muchself-discovery in Thailand. I don’t need to know myself better, I like thisfun-myself just fine. And I’ve made friends here. I’ve got too used to the clear skies andall-day sun. I like my routine of morning yoga, a walk along the beach, lunchtime sex with Dom, followed by a touristy adventure. In Asia, I will know no one and I’m hopping from unglamorous hostel to unglamorous hostel.
From my current position of perpetual joy and sex, I am less than excited about thatprospect.
But it’s booked, and I can’t stay here for ever. Life goes on. And I do still have nearly a whole week left! I’m trying to stay in the moment and make the most of what’s left. And I have my picture to remind me. The one of me from last Wednesday. The one of me holding hands withnear-stranger Dom, walking along the beach, high as a kite from myfirst-ever spliff, giggling like Iwould never stop, over ‘oders’ and ‘urbers’. I keep looking at it to remind myself it’s good to let go, to try new things, to jump on the spontaneous adventures. It’s a reminder that everything that’s happened lately has been worth it.
We join the queue and I shake my fists in the air happily. I can’t wait.
‘Next, I want to go on The Little Mermaid Undersea Adventure ride,’ I say,a bit too loudly, and the little girl in the queue behind me shouts, ‘ME TOO.’ I turn around and we nod at each other with respect.
‘Oh God, really?’ Isy says, half laughing, but looking a bit exasperated. ‘Haven’t we done enough? Can’t we just go on, like, this one ride, and then go get some booze?’
‘Does Disneyland even sell alcohol?’ I say, surprised.
She nods in a direction offto the right. ‘In the hotels they do. Let’s just get some selfies with the cartoon characters for Instagram, then go get drunk. Rides just get in the way of the actual fun.’
I am intrigued by the idea of getting drunk at Disney. I have heard reports of Disney jail and a big part of me wants to see it for myself. I want to see if the handcuffs have ears. But I am also desperate to get a propergo on the rides. I want more adrenaline.
‘What do you want to do?’ I turn to Dom and Patrick. Dom shrugs. He has been in a bit of an odd mood today. Patrick is more decisive, and shouts, ‘RIDES’ at me, grinning.
‘Me and Patrick could go on a few more rides, then meet you guys later, if you like?’ I suggest to the group.
‘Sounds good to me,’ Ethan says neutrally, examining his perfectlymanicured nails.
‘Typical,’ Dom mutters and I frown at him. What’s that supposed to mean? Typical of what? I don’t understand.
Before I can ask, Isy pulls out her phone. ‘Let’s get a picture together in the queue!’ We pose as she shouts, ‘HASHTAG BEST TIME EVER AT DISNEY I CAN’T EVEN!’
I roll my eyes. ‘Isy, you give Millennials a bad rap.’
The little girl behind me sniggers. Ilike her.
Dom leans over, resting his large head on my shoulder. ‘Can we take a selfie, just of us?’ he says quietly. I giggle. ‘Sure thing, Uber Driver.’ I pull out my own phone, and I see him flinch as we simultaneously register the text message waiting on there – fromTD.
I’ve told Dom all aboutTDbecause why would I lie? This is just atwelve-night stand after all. So yeah, of courseI told him about the tortured back and forthing and thenever-ending drunk texts. He laughed and teased me about my stupidity in wasting so many years going back to an idiot. In fact, just yesterday, I was telling him about the last birthday presentTDgave me. Some cheap, nasty lingerie. Lingerie. I mean, that is a terrible present anyway because it’s not really a present for you, is it? It’sfor him, and I think it’s a weirdly controlling and creepy move. Like you’re telling someone what to wear and how to be sexy for you. But, to make matters ten times worse, the lacy thing he got for me was three sizes too small. The bra wouldn’t have fit around my nipple.
Dom laughed a lot at the story and promised he would never buy lingerie for a woman he was seeing. But today he doesn’tseem to have a sense of humour about anything, including theTDnonsense.
‘Oh, it’s that moron!’ I say, as jovially as I can. Dom looks away, he seems pissed off. So I keep talking. ‘Hey, I know! Let’s send him a picture of us together. That’ll fuck him off and also make him fuck off!’
