Gorgeous tulips on Main Street.
(click to quadruplify)
Disneyland was magically delicious. Sure it was wet and gray, but it was a wonderful experience. It took us an unheard of straight-shot 30 minutes to go from our Silver Lake garage to their Anaheim garage (a monstrocity that did not exist when I was last there more than a fifth of a century ago), and while the 
line-up at the inbound tram portended of larger-than-expected crowds, once we made our way into the park (with our online-purchased tix) and got a bite to eat in Tomorrowland we were on our way to the amusements in the following order and with waits of no more than 25 minutes: Space Mountain (as seen at right) via a post-ride crappy snap of the monitor showing Susan and I in the front car racing enthusiastically around the galaxy; click to biggify), Star Tours, Matterhorn, the Frontierland firing range, Thunder Mountain, Pirates of the Carribean, Haunted Mansion, Indiana Jones, and The Enchanted Tiki Room. Gladly, Small World was closed for renovations. Sadly, so was the Jungle Cruise.
After some souvenir shopping we somewhat forlornly said our farewells to the magical kingdom and by the time we were back in the truck and on the northbound 5 Freeway it was time for the Superbowl’s opening kickoff and the Giants opening drive for a field goal as sent via Sirius radio.
Disneyland photoset is here on Flickr. Susan’s is here.
We got home with the Patsies leading 7-3 and watched the rest of the incredible (and unfathomably low-scoring) game from behind buffalo wings and Susan’s homemade guac and bottles of Fat Tire ale (napping during halftime with… Tom Pettyzzzzzzzzzz?) until that fantastic moment when The Kid somehow avoided that sack and went sandlot-style in heaving the pig in a big all-or-nothing arc that came down on receiver David Tyree who somehow circus-caught the sumbitch with his brain bucket and Eli was saying I CAN HAZ DESTINY?
Nailbiting notwithstanding, I had a funny feeling New England’s preordained perfect season was doomed. And by funny feeling I mean ecstatic and elated. And by doomed I mean LOOOOOOSEEEEEERZ! And that Pats Coach Billygoat? Totally bad time management — and by that I mean classless soreloserface buffoon — leaving the sideline to congratz Coach Coughlin and exit the stage with 00:01 on the clock instead of backing his ass up to the sideline and letting the last obligatory and academic Giants play be run.
But it was quickly forgotten in the on-camera emotions of Giants receiver Plaxico Buress and the smiles of Michael Strahan, Coach Coughlin, and most of all Eli “The Man” Manning. Congrats to all the Giants — extraspecially the DEFENSE for playing such a monumental part in going out and taking what few wanted them to have or thought they could get.
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