I recently spent a week at Disney World with my fiancée and her family, and it was a hell of a time, aside from that one part shown here where my inner child died. We made it to the very last showing of Fantasmic (on our very last night there) with literally seconds to spare though, so all in all it was totally worth it.

As a kid, any time I’d be eating with older family members, usually at a child-friendly pub somewhere just off a motorway, I would always be astounded that they didn’t want to immediately go outside and play the very instant their plates were cleared. This was in part due to the fact that they’d rather sit around drinking coffee, which to my underdeveloped palette tasted like utter madness, and presumably talk about taxes, what the politicians are doing, and what chequebooks are for (I could only guess, as I would be long gone by this point).

Mainly though, it was because they needed to “let it settle,” a concept I never understood in my youth; surely a dinner could settle while you were faffing about on a slide. I mean, it’s not like it was going anywhere for a while. Not unless you got a little too eager on the merry-go-round, but there’s arguably a fair amount of wiggle room between sitting still at a table and shooting round in circles at umpteen miles per hour.

Then I found myself repeating the same stock sentence without even realizing the words were coming out of my mouth, and in that brief moment I saw the last remnants of my childhood ebb from existence, a little light inside me fading away into nothing, lost forever.

But then we saw Fantasmic and it was awesome.