So here we are, "the Happiest Place on Earth." Must be so, the phrase is patented and copyright protected, said so on the $10 per car sign for the parking garage. Well, at least for that $10 we each get a ride, down an escalator to a tram that takes us across the street to the ticket booths. Huzzah! Our first line of the day! Thought I'd choke at the prices. Only want four day-pass, not stock in the whole bloody place. As I smiled (weakly) and pulled out my card, Gwen pushed me aside (okay, we're in America, guess she body-checked me) and slid her credit card across instead. Tried to argue, as this had been my idea and all. Gwen just kissed me on the cheek and said, 'I know, love. It's a brilliant idea, but I'm the boss and it's my treat.' Okay, boss. Thanks. Owen seems to have taken the "Happiest Place" concept as a personal challenge. He's definitely taken it to heart. Right from the start… They let you in early, at least as far as "Main Street." Guess all the crowds milling around, might as well sell you something while you wait to get in (not that I'm complaining. Shops are one of mankind's greatest achievements. It's just when you see a couple walk out first thing with a giant stuffed Mickey Mouse…and I do mean giant. It was at least as tall as the woman herself. What are they planning on doing with it the rest of the day? By the name alone, I'd have assumed "Splash Mountain" would be off limits for gigantic plush mice. What were they thinking?) In any case, Main Street, U.S.A., thousands (tens of thousands?) of people crowded together, pressing against each other and towards the end of the street. There, it's cordoned off by a handful of Disneyland employees in their rather unpleasing pastel uniforms. Gwen, Tosh and I have found a little porch with a few seats, up and out of the masses. No idea where Owen is. One thing I'll say for the place, crowded or not, I really do feel great. After Tibet, after all the cramped miles in economy class, it's nice to stretch again, breathe city-air and… just realized for the first time in I don't know how many months… I don't have any headache. Not single twinge, pain or throb. Not a bit. Now having said that… a screaming child in a nearby stroller has re-introduced the throbbing. Never mind. Did I mention it's crowded? Never did like crowds.
It's just before noon and here I sit, holding down a table at a Mexican restaurant just next to "Big Thunder Mountain Railroad." The headache is gone again and I feel like… well, if this were a musical I would jump on the table top and sing… but it's not a musical, so I won't even worry how ridiculous that last statement is, coming from me, and all. Anyway… I do feel really really great. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the others are buying lunch, the music swells and … okay, enough with the musical theatre references. Tosh has informed me that I'm not to do a thing about food and drink all day today, that she and Owen are splitting the duty. Wondered out loud if anyone had told Owen yet, to which Tosh whispered that it was all his idea. Any other place and time, I'd have thought she was kidding…Guess I should backtrack a bit, set the stage for my own little musical, as it were... The last entry prior was written with a few minutes to go before the rest of the park opened. So there we were, sitting on our nice little porch, people-watching, Gwen and Tosh had just said they wanted to take it slowly, stay out of the crushing crowd and take it easy today. Next thing I know, Owen appeared from nowhere, a head and shoulders popping up above those around him, he waved and disappeared again. Seconds later, popping-up again, closer. A few more pops and he was at our porch, grinning madly and trying to catch his breath. Gwen advised him that the plan for the day was 'Calm.' Owen's grin never faltered. He just said, 'Bollocks to that. Ianto's with me. We'll meet you at the Tiki Room at eleven.' Owen had my arm in a rather vice-like grip and had me off the porch and deep into the crowd in seconds. He worked our way through the crowd as if the world depended on it, and before I knew it, we were at the front of the mass, right by the pastel uniformed employees. The announcement was made from loudspeakers above, that the park would be opening in just a few minutes. Owen's grin grew even wider as he exchanged excited looks with the 10 year old boy to his left (even though this was the fifth such message since we passed through the ticket gates.) Owen, Doctor Owen Harper, MD, fighter of aliens, protector of the human race, stood bouncing on his toes and watching the Mickey shaped clock tick ever closer. He eyed the pastel uniformed employee, who looked ever more nervous at the prospect of an early death by stampede. Some Disney music was played and Owen tensed like a sprinter in the Olympics, awaiting the crack of the starter pistol. Then, in an instant, we were off. I say "we" as I really had no choice in the matter. Owen's grasp on my shirtsleeve, coupled with the press of the masses behind us, propelled me forward. I have to admit, Owen's enthusiasm was a touch contagious and I didn't protest. In the next couple of hours we visited Indiana Jones, Star Tours, Space Mountain, Thunder Mountain, Splash Mountain, and the Dumbo ride. I asked Owen about this last choice. Apparently the line for the Matterhorn had been too long at the moment and as it was nearing eleven, we had an appointment with the ladies, back in Adventureland. While here, I'm apparently free from planning or organizing of any kind. AND IT IS FABULOUS! When we met up with Gwen and Tosh, we discovered that 'taking it slowly' meant circling the park on the train, Pirates and the King Arthur Carousel. Owen's frustration was evident (and rather amusing.) He advised them that, 'After lunch, Ianto and I are gonna show you ladies how it's done!"
So over lunch we sat with a map of the park and the schedule of events. We planned our strategy. Owen had scheduled lunch early so while others were eating later, the lines for us would be less. He figured that the first parade would be a good time to head back to the 'big' rides and pick-up the Matterhorn. He handled 'Fastpass' scheduling, crowd avoidance, and the entire itinerary. Think maybe Owen had been thinking about this for a while, planning in case he ever got the chance to visit the place. I will admit, I did do a little bit of planning of my own, small scale stuff, though: The seating arrangement for the Matterhorn… little bit of line shuffling put Tosh with Owen. (The way you sit between each other's legs. Cozy.) Did it again when we re-rode Splash Mountain. Think maybe Gwen was starting to get the wrong idea. Pointed out to her how cute they look together and from that point on, she shared in the line-shuffle responsibilities. I think I had as much fun just being there with everyone as I did riding the rides and all. I will say one thing, however… very disappointed with the 'Abominable Snowman' on the Matterhorn. Way too short, and the colouring was all wrong. Ah well. Accuracy is the first victim of the modern, animatronic age.
Taking a bit of a break, having a sit-down. After we all had our silhouettes cut at a tiny shop on Main Street, I'm holding down our spots for the second parade. Tosh and Owen are doing some of the Fantasyland rides and I think Gwen's off looking for a toilet or something. She just said, 'Ooooh!' and took off like a shot. Five minutes 'til the parade and the music has started. I can see Owen doing his 'getting through a crowd' routine, popping up here and there. No sign of Tosh, as her height is a little too far below crowd-level. Ah, Gwen's made it back as well, bag in hand. Shopping it was then, just as the parade approaches.
Well our day at the "Magic Kingdom" is done. After more rides (still can't believe Owen was willing to do 'It's a Small World,') a stage performance, dinner, and yet a few more rides, our time there was over. We've made it back to the airport, returned the rental car, and are waiting for boarding. Owen and Gwen have crashed on the floor by the boarding gate, both still wearing the Mickey Mouse hats that Gwen had bought as we waited for the parade. She had told me about the number of times over she'd had to spell my name for the clerk at the shop. She'd almost given-up on the embroidered names, but finally just wrote it down for the clerk to copy. Guess not that many Welsh make it to Disneyland. Embarrassing as it was to begin with, all four of us wore the hats the rest of the day. And mine is now safely tucked in my carry-on bag where it will remain, most likely never be seen by human eyes again (certainly not on my head, at least.) Still, it was a nice thought. Much as I like a good shop, I'm not one for theme park merchandise. Did find a nice little place, however, right in base of the castle, where they do heraldry plaques and the like. Could probably get the same at home, but I picked-up engraved coat-of-arms plaques for "Jones" as well as for "Harper" and "Sato" (not sure about the validity of that particular coat-of-arms.) Then, splurged a bit on an embroidered double, "Cooper" and "Williams." Thought it'd make a nice early wedding gift. Waiting until we get home to give them out, though. Figure it's not really polite, not really nice: here! I bought you a somewhat bulky, really heavy gift. Hope you don't get a hernia with it in your travel bag. Instead I now have three somewhat bulky, really heavy gifts, plus my own plaque… Hope I don't get a hernia. Hope they let me carry it on board. The airline might not like it being stowed in the overhead compartment, though… I might not like it in the overhead compartment, at least not over my head. Should go and ask the boarding desk attendant about it.
Okay, the crew will put my bag in with their personal bags for me. The older gentleman at the boarding desk was going to take my bag and have it checked-in for me when the flight attendants arrived. A tall blonde one (no Viking ancestry there!) said that I shouldn't have to worry about the weight of my bag and he'd take care of it for me (along with anything else I needed while in flight.) Airline staff have been so nice this entire trip. Really should write a letter to the airline.
Was just called back up to the desk. Worried there was a problem with my bag after all, I spoke with the woman at the desk who'd called my name. She said that there was a problem, but with my ticket. I must've looked worried, 'cause she smiled and said not to be concerned, that they'd fixed the error and moved me up to first class. (This time it's all mine, Gwen.) Really have to write that letter to the airline. We should be about ready to board. Just wondering where Tosh has gotten off to. Must be off shopping. I'm too tired to shop. Too tired to shop? I must be getting old. That's just wrong.
Tosh was in fact, shopping. She just came back all animated. She's bought me a present: A digital book reader. Tosh saw it in the duty-free and was so excited by its functions and memory capacity. Apparently this one can store more than a million pages at any one time. She's already loaded the entire works of Tolkien into it, along with Dylan Thomas. Though I've told her repeatedly that it's no worry, she's trying to make up for loosing my dog-eared old book. Tosh is so sweet. Don't think she'll ever understand, though. Half of what I love about reading is the book itself, the feel of it, the weight of it, the anticipation of the page turn. I like the feel of the next page on my finger as I turn it, not the click of a button or touch of an icon. Technology just isn't the same. She's also bought me the universal adapter, so I can charge it anywhere in the world. Just won't ever replace a real book. Still… it is a nice matte-black finish and all.
Seems the reason there was a problem with my ticket earlier had nothing to do with my reservation, and everything to do with me not having been in Stephan's section (the tall Viking flight attendant.) So here I now sit with champagne (never much cared for it) and chocolates (have to admit, they're good) and the most annoyingly loud person ever, right next to me. Everything she said was a shout, angled right into my ear, partnered with a clawing grab of my arm. All the rest of the section is quiet, all but the woman next to me. She had noticed Dylan Thomas on my book reader earlier and grabbing my arm, proceeded to tell me how much she LOVES Thomas. Too tired to shop means way too tired for meaningless small talk. I gave her a quick, meaningless smile and continued reading. She asked me where I was from. Wales, I said. Thought my quiet tone made it clear I'd rather be left alone. Alas, no. 'Well REALLY? I LOVE everything about Wales.' Another quick meaningless smile. 'Where in Wales?' she persisted. "Llareggub." She just grinned ever more broadly and asked if it was nice there. Yep, can tell you're a really big D.T. fan. Have you actually ever actually even read any Thomas? Any at all? Under Milk Wood? Ring any bells? Llareggub? Fictional town full of crazy people? No? Nothing?... But instead I just smiled again and said yes, it's nice and quiet.
An hour later Gwen, tired of sitting with a sleeping Owen and Tosh, came to check on me. Offered to switch seats with her. This woman here wants to hear all about Wales. Here ya go, this is Gwen. She's from Wales too. Have fun. I've no doubt they will be fast and furious friends. Back with Owen and Tosh (Sorry Stephan, not in your section again.) Tosh is once again dead to the world asleep, curled into the tiny airline seat with her iPod (think she's faking the sleep.) How does she fit in her seat like that? My feet are on the floor, but my knees are still up to my chin. Owen asked me what time it was. Asked him if he wanted time at home, or where we currently were. He said home, so I told him. Then he asked for the time where we were now and I told him that too. He grabbed my arm and stared at my Tibetan market digital watch. '23 pence for the thing and it has dual time zones?' Nope, that one would have been more expensive. Told him I always have my watch set for home, and just calculate local time in my head when I travel. He proceeded to quiz me on every city name he could remember. (Not that I thought for a minute he had any idea what the correct time zone would be for any of them anyway.) Tosh just smiled in her sleep at all that (knew she was faking!) and she had to check herself from laughing when I reversed Sydney and Moscow's time zones without Owen having noticed.
Back on British soil. Well, British low-pile airport carpet at least. Here we wait at the luggage claim carousel. And wait. And wait. Speaking of which, we've had to wait until we now to check messages. Tosh's finally gotten a connection through to check what's going on in the world and, more importantly, our e-mail. Owen asked her if there was anything good. Could see Tosh's eyes scanning as she checked, 'London hospital's gone missing… no wait… Never mind, it's back. Okay, a couple tagged urgent, from Vivian Rook.' Owen looked bored as he told her to 'Skip them, She's annoying.' To Tosh's look of disapproval, he continued, 'We'll get back to her. Anything else?' Tosh continued to skim the e-mails: 'Hmmm, okay, how about a giant scorpion creature attacking a gala?' That got Owen's attention, 'Now you're talking! Free drinks!' As I'd finally got my laptop to find a connection as well, I had to be the bearer of the bad news: "No, sorry. Sorted as well, few days back. Looks like we've missed all the action... and the free drinks." Owen was heart-broken.
So, couldn't have been on that British soil for fifteen minutes. Standing, waiting at the luggage carousel, when I hear an odd jingling sound. It's been so long, it takes a few times for me to remember that's the sound of my own mobile phone ring. Answered it. Forwarded from the hub, it's a call from U.N.I.T. They demanded to know where we've been, they've been trying to get a hold of us, they had needed back-up. 'Fraid I was a little too tired and a little too jet-lagged to deal with it with the proper decorum. I reminded him in no uncertain terms that Torchwood doesn't answer to U.N.I.T. (we are beyond the United Nations and all.) Furthermore, we won't be continuing with those damn C.R.P.A. reports. When we have information we want to share from now on, we'll shoot them a text. Until then, if they need our help, they can ask for it, NICELY. We're nobody's "back-up!" And with that, I hung up. Gwen said, 'Remind me never to get on your bad side.' Damn right, too. Now, where's that luggage?
Team asked why our baggage seems rather light. I'd already told them, back in Tibet, that I'd donated most of it to a local charity/disaster relief organization. Not like we'd be needing that much sub-zero equipment here, anyway. And I really didn't want to find a place for it all, back at the hub. Maybe if anyone ever listened… Anyway, given our penchant for saving the world, and not to mention our overall trustworthiness, you'd think that Torchwood could skip to the front of the line at customs…. As it is, and we've time to kill (by the looks of the queue, lots and lots of time) I rang-up Torchwood 2, just to check-in. What a strange man. Talk about out of touch! He didn't even know that Saxon was dead. We were stuck in the Himalayas… What's your excuse? Glasgow? Yeah, well… okay. Speaking of strange… also checked the answer-phone messages for the Tourist Office. Apparently Saxon himself called and had left a message on our machine while we were away. He seemed to be gloating over some plans he had. Seemed to assume we'd know what he was on about, promising evil things if we survived the Himalayas. Something about sending the 'toclaphane' especially for us? Is that a flower delivery service? I've heard of Toblerone, maybe he's sending us chocolates? No, wait, he's evil and he's dead. Guess we'll have to find our own chocolate.
We picked-up the SUV in long-term parking, just as we'd left it, how long ago? There was no debate, no arguing over seating arrangements, we all just got in and headed to the hotel. On the way we discussed staying a day or two, maybe take in a show, see the sights. For tonight, I think what everyone wants most is to sleep in a warm bed, and after dinner that's exactly what I'm going to do.
It's probably all down to being back in London. Just woke-up from one hell of a nightmare. The world ended, invaded by millions of metal globes. Like miniature void-ships. No Cybermen or Daleks this time, but something even less human. I was standing in a pod in the London Eye, watching. Next to me Dylan Thomas spoke:
On whom a world of ills came down like snow
He cried as he died, fearing at last the spheres
Last sound, the world going out without a breath:
Too proud to cry, to frail to check the tears.
I turn to look at him, turn away from the spheres, but he's gone and I'm alone in the pod. I look back and the spheres are gone as well, but so is London, so is the Earth. The pod now floats in a sea of stars. So what the hell does all that mean? Rather undecided about reincarnation, but I start to wonder if I am Dylan Thomas. Maybe I should grab a couple of drinks and a couple of women and find out. Then again, maybe I should just go back to bed and grab a few more hours of sleep.
Looks like the extended London visit is off. Tosh wants to get back and plug-in the updates she's written for the rift-predictor program, Gwen misses Rhys, and Owen says he just doesn't care. Think in all reality, we just couldn't all agree on what play to see in the West-End, so after a little debate over breakfast, we're packing once again and home we will head. Gwen's on the phone to Rhys now, then we'll be checking-out. I'd heard a voice behind me, 'London has too many memories.' I hadn't noticed but Owen had entered, and was now sitting on the bed next to Tosh as we waited for the boss to finish her call. He went on to ask me if I knew what he meant. "Yep." I looked out at the breathtaking view from the hotel room window. I must have been quiet for too long, 'cause Owen came to stand behind me at the window, seeing the same view, but feeling a different pain. Or maybe it wasn't so different after all. After a minute or two, he must have followed my gaze, because all he said was, "Oh, God. Ianto. I'm sorry." A breath-taking view indeed. On a clear day such as this morning, one can see all the way down the Thames. All the way to the steel-capped, pointed tower of Canary Wharf. Yep. Some memories aren't worthy of a song. I'm ready to go home now.