It began when Michael noted that the wait time for the ride was listed as 50 minutes. I argued the sign couldn't possibly have been accurate as there weren't more than seven people visible at the front entrance. "Oh, it won't be more than a few minutes. Follow me!" I insisted with my usual Disney aplomb as I dragged him by the hand through the technicolor arches and cartooney-sized doorways. It wasn't until we were in and firmly trapped on either side by fanny-packing tourists that we discovered the line's actual length. What appeared so vacant and hollow on the outside revealed itself inside to be a virtual human labyrinth - a single line of people moving back and forth, forth and back, winding in circles and crossing over theselves repeatedly.

So Michael and I wound around these creepy railed-halls for nearly forty minutes as we exchanged bored looks, re-lived how our lives were forever-changed by the tea cups, and threw sneers down to the overly-anxious kids behind us who continually ran into our butts with their faces but never offered us any money.

Finally, at just about the 50-minute mark, we emerged into the open-aired final stretch of the line - a single, unbroken ramp leading up to the ride's loading dock. Our hearts began to stir. We were finally close enough to watch tickled passengers disembark the ride at one end as eager wide-eyed optimists boarded at the other. Then without warning, an alarm rang, the ride operators began tearing around in a frenzy, and the zany redntion of Hungarian Rhapsody that scores the ride went silent. The cars stopped cold throughout the ride, with the exception of one just rounding the final turn and coming to a stop at the exit landing. It was there that we were witness to the battle between man and satanic bloodthirsty machine.

This time, the Spin decided to take its victim down by the pig tail. Within seconds, a sea of Disney security guards swarmed the little girl and simulaneously pulled on the free side of her head as the Spin roared in fury and re-newed its grasp, pulling little Tiffany towards its drool-laced gape of a mouth. "Meat! I must have meat!" were the words many claimed to have heard as far off as New Orleans Square and Tarzan's Treehouse. The line was immediately requested to vacate by a female cast memeber with a fearful anxiety that shone threw her obligatory smile and wish for us to have a "magical day." Guests began dutifully embarking towards Buzz Lightyear's Astro-Blasters and the churro cart as the tug-of-war for Tiffany's head continued.

I turned to Michael, eyes wide, frozen in shock, and uttered, "I'm totally gonna take a picture."

Michael's response was, "Gary, DON'T!"

I said to him, "But we were standing in this damn line for nearly an hour!"

To that, he replied, "Hurry or you won't have a clear shot!"

So as we dashed by the carnage toward the emergency exit which had been opened up for us, I whipped out my Kodak E-Z Share, held it up in Tiffany's general direction, snapped the button and prayed for the best.