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.I got approved in Cruella de Vil.”“Oh.” I pulled a splinter out of my hand.“That’s terrific.Congratulations! I didn’t even know you were auditioning.”“I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure I had the part.” She had dropped the accent and was normal again.“Okay.I get it.You’re Method acting.”“That’s right,” she said.“This is my technique.”“That’s so Meryl Streep.” Finally, she let me kiss her.“This calls for a celebration.I’m taking you anywhere you want for dinner.Sky’s the limit.”“Anywhere, huh?” Calico chewed her lip.“Actually, there’s a new place on I-Drive I’d love to try.It’s called Morton’s.”“The steakhouse?”“It’s supposed to be good.”“But you’re vegetarian.”“Yeah, but—I just think it might help me to get into the role.” She raised an eyebrow.“Is that a problem?”“Not at all.I love steak.”“Good,” she sniffed in her Cruella voice.“Then let’s go.”At that point, almost ten months into my Orlando experience, I was so far gone down the rabbit hole, so loyal to the Disney Dream with its pixie dust and its wishing wells, I was no longer able to distinguish between Wonderland and terra firma.The truth was, I had become everything I despised: a generic clone in a team jersey, censoring the lyrics of my life’s anthem so as not to offend the convention geeks or the honeymooners or anyone else who crossed the border into Never Land.At that time, if Calico had asked me to renounce my citizenship and defect to Disney World, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought.I was no longer a mere believer; I had pledged allegiance, signed the declaration, and tattooed my soul with Disney’s colorful flag.For the rest of the night, Calico practiced her English accent, and I tried to keep a straight face.Over the next few days, she honed the dialect to a perfect North London inflection, and even learned a few words of Cockney rhyme.And from that day forward, she ate red meat with every meal.A Whole New WorldThe call came late at night, after Calico had fallen asleep.I picked it up without checking the caller ID.“Hey rock star.” Brady’s voice was strained as if he were trying to talk without being overheard.“Can you be packed and ready to go by Friday?”A week’s notice was plenty of time to set up my schedule.“Cuba?”“Don’t forget your board shorts and your Disney smile.”“What happens in Havana stays in Havana.”“I’ll pick you up at 8 A.M.”I didn’t hear from Brady for the rest of the week, but on Friday at 8 A.M.sharp, he pulled up in a VW minibus (“It just showed up on my doorstep.”), and we drove to the airport.I had packed a small duffel bag for the occasion, but it was mostly filled with sun block and aspirin for my forthcoming hangover.Brady had a backpack and an enormous stuffed Mickey, which he tossed gracelessly into the overhead compartment.For the short flight to Jamaica, we sat on opposite sides of the plane.In Montego Bay, we breezed through customs and into the terminal where Brady pulled me into a souvenir kiosk and bought a few schlocky Jamaican souvenirs.“In case anyone asks,” he said, stuffing a Hey Mon shot glass into my duffel, “you went barhopping, got sloppy, and passed out on Cornwall Beach.You can fill in the details.”The next flight was even less eventful.Nobody cared that we were Americans going to an off-limits destination.We were simply a group of pilgrims on an Epicurean quest, looking for revelry and relaxation in a tropical paradise, disconnected from the rest of the world.As the plane banked around the coastline of Cuba, I felt a familiar tingle on the bottoms of my feet, the playful stretch of an old friend, my shadow, who handed me a rum drink with a silent wink.Once again, I was off on a bona fide international escapade with real adrenaline and real consequences [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.I got approved in Cruella de Vil.”“Oh.” I pulled a splinter out of my hand.“That’s terrific.Congratulations! I didn’t even know you were auditioning.”“I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure I had the part.” She had dropped the accent and was normal again.“Okay.I get it.You’re Method acting.”“That’s right,” she said.“This is my technique.”“That’s so Meryl Streep.” Finally, she let me kiss her.“This calls for a celebration.I’m taking you anywhere you want for dinner.Sky’s the limit.”“Anywhere, huh?” Calico chewed her lip.“Actually, there’s a new place on I-Drive I’d love to try.It’s called Morton’s.”“The steakhouse?”“It’s supposed to be good.”“But you’re vegetarian.”“Yeah, but—I just think it might help me to get into the role.” She raised an eyebrow.“Is that a problem?”“Not at all.I love steak.”“Good,” she sniffed in her Cruella voice.“Then let’s go.”At that point, almost ten months into my Orlando experience, I was so far gone down the rabbit hole, so loyal to the Disney Dream with its pixie dust and its wishing wells, I was no longer able to distinguish between Wonderland and terra firma.The truth was, I had become everything I despised: a generic clone in a team jersey, censoring the lyrics of my life’s anthem so as not to offend the convention geeks or the honeymooners or anyone else who crossed the border into Never Land.At that time, if Calico had asked me to renounce my citizenship and defect to Disney World, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought.I was no longer a mere believer; I had pledged allegiance, signed the declaration, and tattooed my soul with Disney’s colorful flag.For the rest of the night, Calico practiced her English accent, and I tried to keep a straight face.Over the next few days, she honed the dialect to a perfect North London inflection, and even learned a few words of Cockney rhyme.And from that day forward, she ate red meat with every meal.A Whole New WorldThe call came late at night, after Calico had fallen asleep.I picked it up without checking the caller ID.“Hey rock star.” Brady’s voice was strained as if he were trying to talk without being overheard.“Can you be packed and ready to go by Friday?”A week’s notice was plenty of time to set up my schedule.“Cuba?”“Don’t forget your board shorts and your Disney smile.”“What happens in Havana stays in Havana.”“I’ll pick you up at 8 A.M.”I didn’t hear from Brady for the rest of the week, but on Friday at 8 A.M.sharp, he pulled up in a VW minibus (“It just showed up on my doorstep.”), and we drove to the airport.I had packed a small duffel bag for the occasion, but it was mostly filled with sun block and aspirin for my forthcoming hangover.Brady had a backpack and an enormous stuffed Mickey, which he tossed gracelessly into the overhead compartment.For the short flight to Jamaica, we sat on opposite sides of the plane.In Montego Bay, we breezed through customs and into the terminal where Brady pulled me into a souvenir kiosk and bought a few schlocky Jamaican souvenirs.“In case anyone asks,” he said, stuffing a Hey Mon shot glass into my duffel, “you went barhopping, got sloppy, and passed out on Cornwall Beach.You can fill in the details.”The next flight was even less eventful.Nobody cared that we were Americans going to an off-limits destination.We were simply a group of pilgrims on an Epicurean quest, looking for revelry and relaxation in a tropical paradise, disconnected from the rest of the world.As the plane banked around the coastline of Cuba, I felt a familiar tingle on the bottoms of my feet, the playful stretch of an old friend, my shadow, who handed me a rum drink with a silent wink.Once again, I was off on a bona fide international escapade with real adrenaline and real consequences [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]