This past weekend, I found myself in Orlando. While I was really there for some business on Thursday and Friday, I decided to stick around for a few days and see my old college roommate who’d moved to the area about a year ago. Both his current roommates, as well as his girlfriend, work for Disney, and I have no shame in admitting that I used them to get free entry into the Happiest Place on Earth. But what self-respecting 25-year-old goes to Disney? One that wants to ride the greatest ride on this beautiful planet: Drinking Around the World.
For those of you uninformed with the Disney World happenings, Drinking Around the World is a real thing that is promoted at Epcot.
Disney tries to get you to become more cultured by actually interacting with people from each country represented at the World Showcase in Epcot, but let’s be honest, the only thing I truly cared about was how irresponsibly drunk I could get around six-year-old kids. In the game, there are eleven countries — twelve if you count the bonus “African Outpost” round — so I should have probably paced myself. But fuck that. I went hard and completed all twelve “cultural experiences” in about three hours.
Did I start aggressively with a shot of Patrón inside a replica Aztec temple? You bet. Did I then immediately proceed to down some random beer from Norway before making a play for both Anna and Elsa? Of course. I couldn’t find Mulan in China at the next stop, but if I had, all bets were off.
The heaviest beer I had was actually at the African Outpost, and then I followed that up with a delightful pomegranate double bock in Germany because I’m a terrible person. Italy was a letdown, though. The Chianti was terrible, and by this time I was on my fifth drink in about 30 minutes. Spilled some of it on my favorite tank, but casualties happen. After downing a Yuengling in good ole America, my old roommate decided I should probably take a break despite me being halfway done and wanting to power through.
After making a stop through the Test Track, I was right back at it. I gagged through some sake in Japan, and I was starting to feel pretty toasty. However, I was disappointed by the lack of Pokemon available to catch in the area. Sometimes stereotypes let you down, folks.
Morocco and France were wholly forgettable experiences, though that might have been because I was starting to sway a bit. Ignoring these warning signs, I made it to the United Kingdom, the penultimate stop on my quest to conquer the world. I casually strolled up to the bar, where I’m assured I mumbled my way through 15 minutes of conversation about how great Jameson is before buying a round of it for the two of us and his wife. He paid me back with another round of shots, which leads to my only advice on this quest: do not double-dip countries.
By the time I made it to the last stop in Canada, it wasn’t looking good. Especially with some hoser from Canada deciding that he should cut me off. Screw your polite and caring demeanor — just let me get blasted in peace.
My friend and I exited the line and hatched the most basic plan imaginable. He got in line for me, stone-cold sober, to buy the beer while I waited in the UK. My buddy handed me the beer; next thing I know, I wake up at 2:00 a.m. with a Frozen coloring book, a four-pack of Frozen ornaments, and a $169 bar tab.
Elsa, call me! .