White Christmas…

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Christmas will soon be upon us at the World Wide theme park, and what better way to spend it than with 20,000-plus entertainment-craving, fanatic tourists?

My fellow graduates and I are about to get a taste of theme park insanity. We’ve been told what to expect, but seeing is believing.

As tour guests arrive they’re greeted by long lines. First there’s one to park your car, then another for the Glamour Tram parking-lot shuttle. Of course, the shuttle drops you off at the longest line of them all: the turnstiles.

There are plenty of ATM machines offering the opportunity to refill wallets and pocket books. There are also large Christmas trees with over-sized, decorative bulbs glistening in the morning sun. It’s all meant to put the the guests in the mood to spend, spend, spend.

Youngsters approaching the ticket booths are mesmerized by the presence of superheroes and supervillains. They’ve bought in already, but it’s the parents who still have to pay.

Whatever this costs…it’s worth it!

Christmas, a.k.a., “Winter Break,”  is a month-long party event in World Wide’s eyes.

The Happiest Place in the San Fernando valley!

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The studio’s resident Santa Claus is not above suggesting gifts from the World Wide shopping center to children. I saw this Santa getting out of Kyle’s shuttle van once, and I believe he might have been self-medicating.  Employees just want to have fun!

Night tours run through the entire month, and I’ll soon find out what Glamour Tram night touring is all about. We open at 8am, and we don’t close until everyone has gotten to ride.

The drivers’ break room is decorated with a string of colored lights and a dried up Christmas tree, compliments the management! I just hope the tree doesn’t catch fire is all. It’s in the back corner by the poker table, where a lot of cigarette smoking, laughing, cussing, and bitching goes on. The star on top the tree is tarnished by smoke and barely visible. Just like a typical smoggy day in L.A., but the festiveness keeps the troop morale high.

Speaking of high, most the drivers seem to be on “medication” of some sort. The group of drivers that hates Iris favor anxiety medication and smoke heavily. Driver Kyle enjoys and delivers snow…by the gram. He drives a van all day in circles around the studio, like some kind of drifter. The energy level in his shuttle is intoxicating. Amped-up employees line up, wearing uniforms and/or costumes and get shuttled inside this white powdered ride…

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow…

Employees exit the van happier than when they got in, and Kyle’s a very generous man. Mood swings often take place for those who’re in for a long day. This shuttle definitely has a wild side, and I quickly notice a pattern: Kyle likes to touch me when I ride shot-gun. He makes no bones about it, he wants to F*@k me, so I learn to sit in the backseat!

Kyle listens to Rick Dee’s deejaying on the van’s radio. Huey Lewis comes on, singing “I want a new drug…”

 Even Frankenstein gets shit faced here… yet no one can tell.

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Back at the break room, I’m tuned up and ready when the speaker on the wall calls out my name. “Oh Donnie! Tram on the right!” Iris commands affectionately.

Viktor and Tilda take deep drags off their fags, happy they didn’t get called and hoping they never do. As the speaker cuts out, a short delay is followed by a “F.U. Iris!” This is not the exception, but the rule.

I like Iris though.  We talk sports every morning when I clock in. I look forward to having deeper conversations with him as time goes forward. He can, if he wants, make your day very exceptional since he controls the entire deck of cards.

I hop aboard an already fully-loaded Glamour Tram: number 713. I’m greeted by smiling customers and a voluptuous tour guide I’ve never met before.

Her name is Berlin. Sprechen Sie Deutsch?

 

Of course this is a German Tour, I quickly find out. I’m lost in translation by the first turn of the steering wheel. That said, I’m infatuated with Ms. Berlin. Dark skin, well-endowed, a mature presence and an expert with the mic!

I don’t understand a thing being said, but I’m having a blast. I stare up and down at this lovely lady sitting next to me in the Galactic Encounter as evil Cylons fire their laser guns. Beams of colored lights playfully dance and reflect off Ms Berlin’s face, like at some Galactic strip joint.

Germans seem to enjoy a good gun battle. Unfortunately, it’s too loud inside this space ship for all the questions I’d like to ask Ms. Berlin. I think to myself, “She has to be an actress, or model or stripper or. . . maybe all three?

I’ll have to wait til next time to learn more. As we pull into the Robert Wagner wax figure experience, I have to say “Auf Wiedersehen” to my first foreign group ever!

Written and lived by Donnie Norden…page16
Read the Glamour Plane story just posted on Phantomofthebacklots blog…Rock stars and their mile-high life style. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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