Saturday, April 1, 2006
This morning Sam took me and Patrick to San Francisco International Airport for a 9:30 AM flight—we're going to Disneyland! Patrick has never been to a Disney park, and I haven't been back to Disneyland in about 14 years. (The last time I remember being at Disneyland, ToonTown hadn't opened yet.) We're in for a 5-day, 4-night stay at the Hyatt Regency in Garden Grove, only 2 miles from the park, and a 3-day park hopper pass which includes one early entry day. I picked this time of year because it was Patrick's spring break and I didn't want to deal with summer crowds. I picked the Hyatt Regency because it was the least expensive 3-star hotel on Expedia with availability for the dates we wanted. (I think Expedia says it's a 3.5-star hotel, actually.) Expedia makes it really easy to buy everything in a single package, which is what I wanted. I was expecting to only spend time at the Disney parks, so we didn't need a car rental and used the SuperShuttle. After buying everything on Expedia, you print vouchers which grant you boarding privileges on the SuperShuttle and which you exchange for tickets at Disneyland. It was very easy. While waiting for our plane, we ate breakfast at Mission Bar and Grill (650-821-8305, Terminal 3, boarding area E) and I was surprised to find that the prices weren't the jacked up prices I was expecting in a restaurant airport. We both had a standard eggs, potatoes, bacon, toast, coffee or orange juice meal and it came out to $27.17 after tax. Our server's name was Jeff. Our flight was uneventful and significant only in that it was a really small commuter plane—the smallest plane Patrick has ever flown on. I was confused along the way because I thought John Wayne Airport was in Irvine, but everything and everyone said it was in Santa Ana. I kept thinking there was a mistake somewhere and I was going to the wrong place or my SuperShuttle vouchers wouldn't be accepted, but it was all correct. It's also confusing because sometimes people say "Santa Ana" or "Anaheim" when they mean "Orange County" and vice versa. Catching the SuperShuttle from John Wayne Airport was a little tricky because the instructions on our voucher were not correct. We were instructed to look for an orange sign but there was none. Eventually we found it and there were no further problems with SuperShuttle. We checked in to the Hyatt Regency and got room 517 in the South Tower. Cindy had tipped me off earlier that the South Tower was newer than the North Tower. Our room had a king bed, a very small bathroom with tub and shower combination, a small sofa, a small desk and office chair, a TV sitting on the dresser. The decor was modern and conservatively hip—we liked it. The pillows were feather and down, and the bed was extremely comfortable. The desk had easy access to internet and power, tho we were disappointed to learn that it was $10 a day for internet access. Patrick had brought his laptop so we could download photos to it, but we chose to not spend $10 a day for internet access. Our room overlooked the swimming pool and jacuzzi, facing (I think) south. I asked if any rooms had a view of the fireworks, but I was told that other hotels block the view in that direction. Not long after we arrived, Tina and Daniel had shown up to meet us, as we had arranged earlier. We drove to The Block at Orange, an outdoor shopping mall. The weather was warm and sunny. We got some food at Cafe Tu Tu Tango: pita bread, soda crackers, and hummus; iced teas and sangrias; grilled sesame chicken salad (bok choy, napa cabbage, romaine, water chestnuts, cashes, orange segments, tamari-ginger vinaigrette); mango duck quesadilla (roast duck, manchego cheese, green peppers, onions, cilantro cream, mango salsa); cow skewers; bacon-wrapped shrimp skewers with angel hair pasta. Across from where we were sitting a mechanical bull awaited customers, and when a just-married couple passed by with some of their wedding party, we really really wanted the bride (at least) to give the bull a ride. She seemed to contemplate it for a bit but decided against it. We walked through the mall and encountered a huge indoor skateboard park built into a Vans store. Kids were everywhere, and I thought it was great to see kids getting some real physical exercise instead of playing video games or slouching next to mall waterfalls and planters. We bought coffee at Starbucks then walked to Ben and Jerry's and shared two waffle cones while Tina and Daniel told us their secret bakery plan. They dropped us off at the hotel, all of us sorry that they weren't able to join us at Disneyland. I got in a great workout at the hotel's gym while Patrick stayed in the room and watched ice skating and I Love Lucy. We showered and then took the hotel shuttle to Disneyland. I wanted to exchange our vouchers for real Disneyland tickets, so we did that first. At 7:30 PM, I discovered we needed to go to Ticket Booth 5—the only one open at this hour. Jane Marie patiently helped us out (the computer system took a long time) and gave us a lot of great advice about what not to miss. Tickets secured, we were off to dinner at Downtown Disney—an open-to-the-public shopping district nestled between Disneyland and California Adventure. At about 7:45 PM, we put our name in for a table at Ralph Brennan's Jazz Kitchen. To pass the time while waiting, we walked over to Disneyland Hotel to see what we could see. We found old photographs of celebrities visiting Disneyland: Liz Taylor and Eddie Fisher, Dolly Parton, Sophia Loren, President John F. Kennedy, Nat King Cole. Back to Brennan's. After an hour of waiting (20 minutes longer that we were told), we finally got our table. While waiting for our table, we noticed many other people complaining about having waited for over an hour or that they were told 40 minutes only to return and be told again it would be another 40 minutes. (I think the host/hostess station needs a better system—they don't even have pagers.) Patrick seemed impressed by the reproduction of the building—even the tile plaque on the front of the building was similar to those in New Orleans. Our table was upstairs on the balcony next to a small bar and a kitchen door. Our server was Chelly. The wait staff was excellent; I observed them working as a team very efficiently, servers taking return dishes to help another server out, or handing off tray stands to someone just leaving the kitchen. I enjoyed watching—it was like a ballet. We had soups 1-1-1 (a tasting trio of gumbo ya-ya, red beans and rice soup, and Creole onion soup); soggy garlic and cheese bread; pasta jambalaya for me (gulf shrimp, andouille sausage, roasted chicken, spinach fettuccine, Creole seasonings); Creole cassoulet for Patrick; popcorn shrimp; pinot noir for Patrick; iced tea for me; bananas foster for two. The food was pretty authentic, according to Patrick, with the exception of no bread being served with the gumbo. The bananas foster was most impressive—I had never seen it done before (that I can remember). I was completely unprepared when the pan turned into a giant flame several feet tall—I didn't know that was going to happen. Stuffed with good food, we wobbled back to the shuttle and our hotel and turned in for the night.