The other day on Instagram, Gretchen Rubin posted this quote of hers: “The things that go wrong often make the best memories.” I’ve read this in her books, I’ve heard her say it on her Happier podcast and it always makes me think of the Disney ride, Splash Mountain.

In 2010, our family took a trip to Florida. (It’s called travelling – remember?) Our destination was Orlando, or more specifically, ALL of the Disney theme parks and waterparks, enough to fill up more than a week’s worth of vacation. Even if there was plenty of new things to see and do, our favorite rides got our due attention and we fought the lineups to go on the best ones at least two or three times. And one of our all time favorites, both in California’s Disneyland and Florida’s Magic Kingdom, had to be Splash Mountain. Even if our Florida experience on it was…well, let’s just call it memorable.

Here’s the story I told in our travel blog back then:

Splash Mountain is a lovely log ride along a relatively serene Disney river punctuated with two or three waterfalls of varying heights and one exciting five-storey drop at the end. Since we rode this attraction before, we already knew when to expect the drops. We were also familiar with the announcement (in an appropriate Southern drawl) on the PA system: “Looks like Br’er Bear and Br’er Fox are causin’ some commotion upstream. Your ride through Splash Mountain will begin again shortly.” This was (supposedly) to allay any aggravation when the ride would stall for a bit. So when we heard the announcement on our last time up the river, we assumed we’d get moving again soon. We were wrong.

After 30 minutes of being cramped into a damp, sweaty giant plastic log right next to a hysterical animatronic bear with a bee’s nest on his nose on a very short action-and-music loop, the “magic” was starting to wear off a little. Three out of five of us needed to use “the facilities” and Rick was ready to run interference with the crazy lady in the front log who was getting anarchistic. Trying to distract their little ones, two moms in another log started to sing the “Banana-nana-fo-fana” song OVER AND OVER again – essentially replacing the hysterical-bear-audio-loop which thankfully was turned off after much too long. Annnnnnd the newlywed couple behind us were acting like the honeymoon had definitely lost its bloom. It was no longer a Tunnel of Love, it you know what I mean.

Finally, after about forty-five minutes of expensive Disney time, some “cast members” appeared from the secret doorway that was no longer secret since all lights had come on at about the same time that the soundtrack was shut off. We were warned (in a sinister government-agent kind of voice) not to try exit the boats by ourselves. I was also advised to “put my camera away” but not before capturing some very revealing inner chamber pictures. We were escorted down the stairs and into the back lot, sworn to secrecy about this Disney underbelly and then plied with Fastpasses and ice cream coupons. Let’s just say, it’s all water under the log now.

As I said, we’ve ridden Splash Mountain a few times. But the only time I can really remember is this one. Retrospection is funny, in more ways than one.

What’s your best/worst memory?