Yo Ho, Yo Ho, A Pirate's Life For Me

There is just something about California that makes me long for the days when my grandmother lived forty-five painfully drawn out minutes from Disneyland. Mickey Mouse ears on head, potentially hazardous oversized lollipop in hand, I remember dragging my mom on my safety strap (a fancy term for "leash") through the happiest place on earth, fighting our way through rabid autograph seekers, line hoppers, and flocks of small chinese people following a waving umbrella, until finally reaching one of the most celebrated rides in all of Disney history. In light of an upcoming movie release (for which I am so excited), I dedicate this post to the newly nestled Captain Jack Sparrow, a recently added attraction (in Johnny Depp's likeness, of course) to Pirates of the Caribbean, and to all of his familiar drunken, swashbuckling crew who gave a special "Yo Ho" when I walked the gangway to my personal pirate ship. I am afraid that I am still stuck in this mystical land of fantasy, wishing that I had a bottle of rum and a bit of an adventure left (and some hidden treasure wouldn't hurt either).