I'd decided on the title for this piece by the time we'd arrived at Disney, unloaded the car and headed off in to the park. It wasn't until right at the very end of the day this was amended to what you see now. I'll come to why later, right now I'd like to jump to earlier.
Lanes dominated the day: lanes to queue for the train through the channel tunnel; lanes on the autoroute from Calais some 200 miles to near Val D'Europe to where Disneyland resides; lanes to queue for the rides once there. The train and Disney queues were fairly orderly but what really stood out for me was how disciplined the drivers on the French motorways were.
At home, regardless of how much or little traffic there is, trucks will mostly be pinned to the inside lane with virtually every other vehicle nose to tail in the outside lane. The French, so it seemed, keep a right rein on their outside lane manoeuvres, only drifting out there to overtake before slipping back to the middle almost immediately. I named them 'lane disciples' as is my way of nick-naming most things.
If you've ever seen 'Dunston Checks In' and expect a hotel in the big apple to look like that, you won't be disappointed by the New York Hotel at Disney. Dead ringer, and the kids loved it. What more can I say?
The park itself was crowded though. Having accustomed ourselves over the summer to the relative quiet of Alton Towers and Thorpe Park, Disney was a bit of a shock. We battled on but the lack of sleep and soaring heat sent me back to our room with the little one as she needed sleep. It was not to be.
Once it was evident the sandman would not be visiting, the kids and me headed off for a swim, which was as fun as we could have wanted. Refreshed, we set off out to to the park.
With nine o'clock calling, we decided to call it a day, as our tired legs would carry us little further, and little one was growing increasingly heavy on my shoulders. As we walked through the arcade I said we should go home for bed. "No dad," she says. "Hotel for bed."