I know what you’re thinking: WTF? Who dies at Disney World? It’s full of spinning teacups and magical princesses and big-assed chipmunks walking around waving like it’s absolutely normal for jumbo-sized stuffed aminal to come to life and pose for photo ops. Like, seriously. I don’t remember a whole lot about it. Like I said I was five. I do remember that it was hot. Surreal hot. The kind of hot that makes people shell out their life saving for a bottle of water without even bitching about it. Even the stuffed aminals started looking less like smiling, playful woodland creatures and more like furry POWs on a forced march through toonland. That’s how we ended up on the subterranean It’s a Small World ride and how I almost bit it at the place where America goes for fun.