Goofy precap

 Woof.  Not even sure where exactly to begin.

I suppose the beginning is this:

About five years ago, a friend convinced me that her obsession with brand-name cosmetics was a real thing, and that you definitely get what you pay for in the world of colored animal fat being applied to your face.  I tagged along with her to the mall on an expensive-makeup-buying excursion, and wound up with my very own pot of $25 eyeliner, which needs to be applied with a half-drop of water and a special eyeliner brush.

Yes, I'm talking about you.

I used the stuff religiously, since eyeliner is the only item of makeup I ever wear, and when I ran out about two years later, I took myself back to the mall and reupped, convinced that I too was on the path to righteous cosmetic wear.  I got used to wiping underneath my eyes periodically during the day, to take care of the migration of powder from my eyelid to all points south on my face.  I had a routine, I was in the know.
Fast forward to last halloween.  I was in walgreens buying whatever crap i was buying for some costume party, and walked by the supa-cheap wet-n-wild (or whatever, is it even called that anymore?) display.  I noticed all the metallic and glitter eyeliners and for just a second, instead of feeling superior, I wanted them.  Glitter gets me every time, and it had been a long long time since I bought anything other than wildly expensive black eyeliner.  Plus, what's $1.50 among friends?  I bought three. 

Yes, I cheated.  But it wasn't love, it was just lust! You can forgive me, can't you?

After bringing them home I tested each one in some kind of dancy, drinky, party holiday caprice, where they all stayed put, stayed bright, stayed shiny and glittery and fun...I was kind of stunned.  I dug out what was left of my chi-chi $25 designer eyeliner and threw it away. And it felt good.

Take that, fancy companies and popular assumptions about consumerism!  I'm FREEEEEE!

So!  *Why* that was a vitally important realization at 3am on the day I left for one of the biggest events of my life to date, I don't know.  My mind works in mysterious ways. But this is what I was thinking about at the beginning of my journey, and it touched me, and so I touch you with it.  (Ew.  Cheesetouch.)  Anyway, having reclaimed my fundamental Goodwillness (is anyone listening to that thrift store song?  I can't help it, I love it.  I, too, wear your granddad's clothes, and additionally look incredible.), I finished throwing shit in bags (will I ever finish packing the night before?!) and headed for the aiport, there to meet The James.

Ring, you are coming with me, to gain your extra level of significance.  No longer just 26.2, you will be 26.2 *in a single day*.  Scaaaary!  But also, wooot!

Having gotten there early, we located food and procured what would be the first of many daily orders of fries for Jaime.  Wandering into a gift shop in search of gluten-free goodies, I was struck by how completely awesome Phoenix truly is:

Let me know if your life has a lamentable lack of gun- or snake-themed merchandise.  I can easily fill your void.

And by "awesome", I obviously mean "not awesome".  Srsly.
I'm starting to understand why people see Arizonans the way they do.  Judging by all the airport gift shops, our three main traits are apparently dust and guns and snakes ((and a fanatical devotion to the pope--*four* main traits...)).  Wonderful.  Sign me right on up there, pard'ner. 

Anyway. I slept for the most part on the way to Chicago, trying to bank some zz's for our giant ordeal.  Once at Midway we had ceremonial hot dogs (Chicago style, obvi) (sans the bun, obvi again), complained about the lack of wifi, ignored each other to facebook random details to people thousands of miles away, and posed for pictures:

What I love is how happy he looks, for once.  Why now, after all these years, Oscar?  WHY NOW?!

On the second leg, I sat next to an English woman who was volunteering at the race, and who regaled me with every bit of advice that she could think of, in view of its being our first marathon.  Mainly what stuck was, "jump up a few corrals to give yourself some extra time, since it's going to be ungodly hot."  This was to become a bit of a point of contention between me and law-abiding James.  Especially as Mary Poppins's (I can call her that, bc that's how she sounded) advice in case of conflict with volunteers was, "shove 'em outta the way!  they're just kids!".  I can tell you, that was not a method I could have convinced my trusty running partner to employ.  (Guess they do things a bit differently across the pond, eh?)

Uncomfortable with shoving children?  *I have a song for that!!*...

(I wish I had taken a picture of my actual seatmate, bc then I'd have even more reason for telling you how gratified I was to have correctly guessed her accent was from "The North".  I clearly know SO MUCH about the mother country and am a worldly genius!  Also, a scintillating conversationalist!)
Omg wait!  James DID capture her soul on film!  What a fucking champ!! There next to me, is the side of a stranger's face.  Yay!

Actually, not all that relevant now.  But whatever.

Ooh! I forgot to tell you!: in Phoenix, as part of our whatever-package of Disney travel and stay, we checked our bags all the way through to our hotel.  Not just to Orlando, mind you, but all the way to our *rooms* in our hotel in Orlando.  How fking cool was this?  I'll tell you, with all haste:  it was FUCKING cool.  As in, pretty good.  I liked it. 
So, since we had virtually nothing to mess with when we landed, we hopped on our "Magical Express" (it has mickey on the side and they play a video, apparently that = magical), checked into our hotel, walked a mile and a half to our room to empty our backpacks (for the upcoming schwag fiesta), walked a mile and a half back to the bus, and rode over to the race expo with just over an hour and a half to go. 

Expo!  Excitement!  Raison d'etre!

I once again have to thank Jaime for being a world-class running partner, and bringing not only all her waivery shit but mine too, in a device of wonderfulness commonly known as Teh Folder.  For this race especially, I'm totally grateful, bc I had trouble pulling up my registration info BOTH through runDisney AND Active.com, and my emails to both tech supports went unanswered.  Not. Good.  I still don't know how she was able to pull up my waiver when I couldn't, but that's the kind of life-saver this girl is.  Also, organized.  And photogenic.  Thanks friend!!

The world-reknowned Teh Folder, in its current Goofy incarnation!  *polite golf clap

Anyway, expo expo expo blah blah blah who cares, right? We got our shit, bought stuff, and left.

WHAT..DID...YOU.....SAY?!?!

NO!  Ofc not!  Just kidding.  Expos are exciting and fun and inspiring and you clearly need to know every thought I had the entire time I was there!  Coming right up.

This wall was the first thing we encountered at the shopping part of the expo; I almost walked by it but Jamie noticed it was covered with names.

See??

And there I am!!  Why is it always so fun to see your own name in print??

...I don't know, but it pretty much rules.  I am happy.

Shopping-wise, there were about thirty thousand different shirts on sale in the official merch booth.  Between Donald, Mickey, Goofy, 2013 and "in training" for 2014, long- and short-sleeve versions of stuff, there were just (dare I say it) too many choices.  (I know, what?! But it's true.)  I couldn't decide if I was happy with what I bought, or if I regretted not buying other things, although I couldn't remember what any of them were after the fact.  So I guess I'm fine. We did ofc get three official race shirts with our packets, so counting the sweatshirt and raw threads 39.3 I bought, I walked away with *five* new shirts from one weekend...not to mention car stickers and a commemorative bracelet I fashioned out of these dumb figurine things they were selling.  I mean, big weekend yes, but I may at some point want to wear something that *isn't* disney branded.  Maybe.

They wanted you to buy the doll for $20, then pay another $2 for whatever medal you wanted to put on it.  Uh, NOTHX...

...I picked up 3 of the little medals and for $6 made my own damn commemorative bracelet thingy.  Take that, Disney capitalists!

...Altho, 'take that' only to the point I still spent an ungodly amount of money on registration, trip, and I won't bother mentioning how much I spent on the sweatshirt I picked out...  But I've worn it like every day since then, so that's justifiable, right!  <-- ((not a question mark.))

Oh yeah, this is one of my all-time fave parts of the disney expos, don't think i've seen it anywhere else:  make your own buttons!!  I made one for each race before I realized I could turn the blank *over* and have a total blank canvas. Back up people: Genius at Work!!

Some of the best things in (expo) life ARE free, and stupid fun.

So that was pretty much that.  After the expo we were in need of feed and more stimulation (but without wearing out our legs) so we headed to Downtown Disney and wound up in Raglan Road, their resident Irish bar.  Which, to me seems a lil not-Disney, since what I associate with Irish bars is a whole lot of not-family fun, but maybe that's just me.  It was completely jammed with people.

It is important for you to see what we ate.

James's informed choice.  She won.

We had a fish salad and some shepherd's pie (which were both AMAZEBALLS, btw), and stowed a couple of glasses of wine somewhere about our persons.  I will not say we got a little buzzed two days before the biggest race of our lives, bc that would be stupid.









So, I'm definitely not saying that.







But, wherever I stashed that wine made this sign on the bathroom really amusing:

Doot dooooo doo doo do...anyone?

On the way back to our hotel I snapped these gems, which I think well captured the festiveness and also slight haze of the end of the evening:

Indeed.

This is the sign in front of our hotel, clicked at 30 mph.  I like its "artistic" quality :)