Toby Goodshank Original Art 2025

Life with Chicken and Broccoli

Tag: travel

  • Review: Duff Beer Garden, Universal Studios Florida

    Review: Duff Beer Garden, Universal Studios Florida

    Tucked along the side of the road as you meander through the Simpsons area of Universal Studios Florida, Duff Beer Garden feels like a little oasis in the middle of the park. It is not fancy, and it is not trying to be. It is a simple place to stop, cool down, have a drink, and take in the strange joy of being inside a real life version of Springfield.

    Growing up with The Simpsons, I watched Homer drink Duff Beer for years. Somewhere deep inside, probably at the subconscious level, it made me want to drink Duff Beer too. Then, finally, I got my chance.

    They have Duff Regular and Duff Light, and in the fall they usually have Duff Oktoberfest. I normally get the Light, and it is a nice draft beer. Without all the fanfare and Simpsons nostalgia, you probably would not think twice about it, but that is also part of the fun. You are standing in Springfield, drinking a Duff Beer, watching old Simpsons clips, and for a few minutes it just works.

    But what makes this place special for us is not really the beer. It is the bartender we met a few trips back, named Demar.

    I love watching a well run business, and before we even spoke to him, I noticed how well Demar worked. He was the superlative of a bartender. The bar usually has about three bartenders, and it gets busy quickly with people coming over for a cold beer. They also sell pretzels and corn dogs, although I do not think I have actually seen anyone eat one.

    What stood out to me was Demar’s speed, consistency, and command of the bar. He knew every combination of every order and exactly what it cost, including the tax. At one point, the other two bartenders went on break, and he had the whole bar to himself. That would be daunting for anyone, especially outside in the hot Florida weather, but he just kept moving. He had a knee brace on at the time and still kept cranking along, explaining the differences between the beers, ringing people up, calling out exact totals, and doing it all with almost robotic, lightning fast efficiency.

    But the impressive part was that he was not just fast. He was kind, friendly, and completely present with people. That is not easy to do when there is a line, the sun is beating down, and everyone wants something at the same time. He made it look easy.

    After a few trips, he remembered us, and that changed the whole feel of the place. It stopped feeling like we were just walking up to a theme park bar and started feeling like we were visiting someone we were genuinely happy to see. As my family sat around and hung out, we began to talk with him, and over time we developed a friendship.

    We had a lot of similar interests, and there was something almost reminiscent of Tom Cruise in Cocktail about him. He had ideas, investments, big dreams, and plans for where he wanted to go in life. That is one of the things I really respect about him. He was not just standing behind the bar pouring drinks. He was working hard, thinking ahead, and building toward something bigger.

    Now, part of the retirement plan at Universal is getting a fully loaded jacketed baked potato and making our way over to Duff Beer Garden for an excellent mixed drink or the occasional Duff Light. We sit there, let the gentle breeze carry the day away, rewatch old Simpsons cartoons, and hang out with our friend.

    That is what makes places like this special. It is not always the menu, the theming, or even the drink in your hand. Sometimes it is the people you meet along the way who become part of the tradition. Duff Beer Garden could have just been a quick stop for a cold beer in Springfield. Because of Demar, it became one of our favorite places to return to.

    Review Score: 9.5 out of 10
    Rating: Duff Worthy

  • Restaurant Review: Mythos, Universal Islands of Adventure- Final Review

    Restaurant Review: Mythos, Universal Islands of Adventure- Final Review

    “The world’s greatest theme park restaurant,” “10 time winner,” and “#1 Theme Park Restaurant in the World” are proudly displayed at the front entrance. With or without the banner, this is our favorite restaurant in a theme park and probably, for me, my favorite restaurant in the United States.

    But this visit felt different, because this was not just another meal at Mythos. It felt like the beginning of saying goodbye.

    What is there not to love about this place? I am a huge fan of the décor and the mythology surrounding it. Every time you step inside, you are transported to ancient Greece, to the time of Hercules and his legendary journeys.

    Islands of Adventure is still my favorite of the Universal parks, and I love The Lost Continent the most. From an early age, I remember looking over maps in my elementary school library, searching for Atlantis. I wanted to be a famous adventurer and archaeologist like Dr. Jones.

    I was late in coming to Universal, having been caught under the spell of Disney for too long. Because of that, I missed the real heyday of this land. I was lucky enough to get on Poseidon’s Fury once or twice before it closed, but I never had the chance to see the Sinbad stage show. Now the entire section is draped in “Pardon Our Appearance” wooden walls. The land is changing, and with it, we are losing our favorite restaurant.

    We have eaten at Mythos 15 times or more, and I still enjoy it every time. The cuisine is Mediterranean, and while they slightly vary the appetizers and dishes, the core of the menu remains the same.

    The lobby and waiting area are tight and cramped, but the generous air conditioning feels glorious on these hot May days. We check in at the front desk and make our reservation for four, but the wait times are really never that long. I do have one request, though, and that is to sit in our favorite server Madison’s section.

    Upon entering the main dining hall, you feel like you have stepped into another world, with an endless discovery of hidden features in the décor and artwork that surrounds the room. You definitely want to sit in the main hall if possible. There is a side section with some nice views of the park, and an outside area that may be nice in the fall, but the main hall is where the real immersion is. I usually end up sitting and looking toward the open kitchen, watching the army of servers and runners waiting at the pass.

    Since we eat here so often, we usually end up trying many of the different appetizers on the menu. Our favorite from this trip was the warm and savory spanakopita dip with freshly baked pita chips and za’atar spices. This was our third and best visit during our trip this week.

    We normally argue about the dip to bread ratio. My son and I are masters of making it work and making sure each pita has the appropriate amount of dip. My brother, who came along this time, was admonished the day before for disrespecting the ratios and taking a crazy spoonful out. However, on this trip, the pita to dip ratio was on point with the last cooking crew of the night.

    There are many excellent entrées, and I have tried my family’s dishes when they have ordered them. My son’s favorite is the beef loin medallions, which are always cooked correctly and come with a tasty mashed potato puree and red wine reduction sauce.

    For me, it is always the same entrée, as much as I try to deviate. I always get the souvlaki couscous bowl with pan fried tofu and a side of sriracha. It is just an excellent bowl of Greek goodness with za’atar spiced couscous, fresh cucumbers, marinated artichoke, Kalamata olives, spiced chickpeas, feta cheese, tzatziki, and tahini dressing. I just never get tired of eating it.

    Luckily, this trip we were able to have Madison again as our server. She is exemplary and everything you want when enjoying a meal. She is friendly, kind, caring, and goes above and beyond in her work. After all these trips, she has now become our friend, and having a friend makes all the food taste better.

    The portions on this night were beyond generous and also the best we have had to date. We had to give everyone kudos, so we called over the manager to let him know how much we enjoyed the place.

    Unfortunately, Mythos will be closing down next year, and we are beyond disappointed. We did find out that they hope to keep the staff together and move them over to another location in the park. I am hopeful, but there are so many little things here that make this place special, and those things will be hard to replicate.

    I wish they could just airlift the entire restaurant and place it somewhere else, untouched. The stone walls, the cavernous room, the mythology, the food, the memories, and the people all work together in a way that makes Mythos more than just a theme park restaurant. It became part of our family’s Universal story.

    We are sad to see it go, but grateful we had the time, the meals, and the experiences. Mythos gave us more than good food. It gave us a place we looked forward to returning to, trip after trip.

    And maybe that is the most fitting ending for a place like this. With a name like Mythos, it was never meant to be just another restaurant. It was meant to become part of the story. For us, and for so many others who loved it, Mythos will go down in legend.

    Restaurant Score: 9.9 out of 10
    Rating: Mythical

  • Aruba with Friends

    Aruba with Friends

    Aruba with friends was a long time coming and a long time in the making.

    I have always felt that traveling with other people usually comes with a certain amount of friction. A few issues. A few inconveniences. A little nonsense here and there. That just seems to be part of the deal whenever multiple families, multiple personalities, and multiple rhythms try to move together in one place.

    But Aruba, at least to me, is one of those rare places that almost cannot be ruined.

    The trade winds do something magical there. They seem to blow through every irritation before it can take root. They lift heaviness off the day. They carry away tension before it has the chance to settle in. Everything feels lighter there. Easier. Softer around the edges.

    And somehow, this trip turned out even better than I imagined.

    Maybe that is part of getting older. You slowly begin to understand that the real treasures in life are not places at all, but people. Even the most beautiful setting in the world becomes a little less beautiful if there is no one beside you to witness it. Paradise without companionship is still lovely, but it is incomplete. There is a deeper joy in sharing adventures with people you love.

    That is what this trip felt like.

    There is something almost childlike in introducing people you care about to a place that already means something to you. It is like watching your children open presents on Christmas morning. Your own joy is there, of course, but it is magnified by theirs. You get to experience the gift twice. Once as your own memory, and once again through the delight of someone else discovering it for the first time.

    Aruba is a place where you do nothing, and somehow that becomes everything.

    So much of life at home is motion. Constant motion. We are always going somewhere, planning something, fixing something, driving someone, checking a calendar, answering a message, or moving on to the next obligation. Life can begin to feel like an endless list of duties, even when it is full of blessings.

    And then Aruba interrupts all of that. What are we doing today? Nothing.

    We walk. We eat. We sit in the pool. We sit on the beach. We drift and bob in the ocean. We talk about everything and anything. Like Kevin Malone, we dream big and then we double it. We let the wind touch our faces and the sun warm our skin. There are no real plans. No excursions. No need to fill the hours so we can say we made the most of them. No bikes. No quads. No party buses.

    Of course, people can do all of that if they want to. Many do. But for me, the great secret of Aruba is that if you try too hard to conquer it, you miss what it is trying to give you.

    To sit there for hours, almost like a ten hour meditation in the sun, while the wind moves over you again and again, as if it is trying to smooth out the inner life you brought with you. The point is to relax so deeply that you begin to remember who you are underneath all the rushing. To let the moment be enough.

    After enough hours like that, you begin to wonder why anyone ever leaves a place once they find it. Or maybe, more honestly, you begin to wonder why the rest of life cannot feel this simple.

    What also made this trip so special was the kind of people we were with.

    There was no competition between us. No subtle scorekeeping. No trying to outdo one another. No performance. Just families trying to grow well together. Just people trying to raise their children with love, attention, and presence. Just friends trying to build lives that carry forward the good things they were given as children, while hopefully making those lives even a little better for the ones coming after them.

    It matters to be with people who understand that being present is more important than being impressive. People who care about the texture of family life. People who know that the small moments are often the big ones in disguise.

    We also do not judge each other, and that matters more than people realize. If one family wants to do their own thing for a while, that is fine. If someone wants more beach and someone else wants more pool, that is fine too. There is no resentment, no weird pressure, and no keeping score. Everyone should be allowed to enjoy the trip in their own way and find out what doing nothing looks like for them.

    Maybe that is part of why it worked so well. The right place, the right people, and the right expectations.

    In the end, that is what made Aruba with friends so good. Not just the island itself, but getting to share it with people we care about in a way that felt easy, natural, and right. Sometimes it takes a long time for things to come together. Sometimes the group gets smaller. Sometimes plans fall away before the right one finally takes shape.

    And maybe that is how it was supposed to happen.

    Because once we finally got there, it felt simple. It felt peaceful. It felt like one of those experiences that reminds you what actually matters.

  • Pizza Review: Krispy Pizza – Brooklyn, NY

    Pizza Review: Krispy Pizza – Brooklyn, NY

    It was finally time to head into New York for an early Christmas gift to my son. We were going to Krispy Pizza, the Brooklyn location he and I had been watching endlessly on Instagram. Stories, reels, posts. Long before we left Connecticut, the place had taken on a life of its own.

    Getting from Connecticut into Brooklyn is daunting. The GPS offered no clean path and sent us winding through Queens before dropping us toward the southern tip of the island. I assumed it would be an easy hour and a half, like going into Manhattan. Instead, it stretched past two hours. That extra time only inflated expectations.

    This was our family’s first real trip to Brooklyn. Born in the Bronx, with a mother from Queens and a father from Manhattan, Brooklyn had always been the forgotten borough. The red-headed stepchild. No one ever really went there, and anyone who did never had much good to say.

    We were pleasantly surprised. Once we arrived, the neighborhood felt calmer and less dense than the trek through Queens. Most people seemed to be home. The streets were relatively quiet when we pulled in around four or four-thirty.

    We lucked out with street parking and found a meter to cover our time. Across the street, in big red letters, was Krispy Pizza. The sign featured a self-made family crest filled with pizza and the father’s initial, Pete. I wasn’t even sure which door was the entrance. I pulled a handle and suddenly we were inside.

    Instant chaos. A line stretched all the way to the back of the restaurant, with barely enough room to move through the front. I’m not a fan of lines, but after that drive, there was no hesitation.

    During the ride, we had hoped to catch a glimpse of the proprietor we’d watched so many times online. Relief hit when we spotted him. Freddy was there. Dark hair brushed back, streaked with white flecks of mozzarella, his Sicilian skin looking like it had been baked in the same ovens as the pies to a warm Mediterranean glow. He had somehow created his own avatar and cast himself in a real-life movie. A true pizzaiolo. Head down, focused, moving with practiced rhythm.

    As we worked our way through the crowd, my brother and sister-in-law were already there. Instead of pulling a chat-and-cut move, we tried to find tables, which seemed impossible in such a packed place. Somehow, my wife made it happen.

    She struck up a conversation with a young guy holding a table while waiting for his girlfriend, who was stuck in the bathroom line. They had come all the way from Los Angeles and this was their final stop. Instagram fame again.

    She turned around like a daytime talk show host and did it again. Another table appeared. This couple was from Texas. I started wondering how many people in that room were locals and how many had traveled just for this moment.

    We finally sat down and sent in our order. We went with a mix of things to try. I had a regular slice, buffalo chicken, and the famous buffalo chicken pizza wheel. I watched Freddy the entire time. Head down, nonstop. Pie after pie. I wanted my son to go say hello, but it didn’t feel right. The line was long and they were just trying to keep up.

    Here’s where it gets uncomfortable, and probably why I kept hesitating to write this.

    The pizza was okay. Not great. Not bad. Just okay.

    We had built this place up in our heads. We had watched quiet morning videos of Freddy working alone, talking about his father and learning the family business with pride. What we experienced instead was a place that had become a destination. The priority now was survival. Crank out pizza. Keep the line moving.

    We didn’t order a fresh pie. We had slices from pies baked earlier and reheated. It felt rushed. It wasn’t the pizza we had imagined.

    The pizza wheel was my favorite. It was pretty good. But even as I ate it, I found myself thinking about how I could ask my wife, my mother-in-law, or my sister-in-law to recreate it just as well, if not better.

    As we sat there, enjoying our hard-earned tables, the truth settled in. The highlights were what they always are. Being with family. Making time to take an adventure. Stepping out of routine and turning a meal into a memory.

    Some places live better in anticipation than execution. Maybe if my son and I came back at nine in the morning, when the day is just beginning, it would be a different story. Still, that doesn’t make the trip a failure. It’s a reminder that the best part is rarely what’s on the plate, but who’s sitting across from you.

    Pizza score: 6.9

  • Diner Review: Goshen Plaza Diner – Goshen, NY

    Diner Review: Goshen Plaza Diner – Goshen, NY

    Our second outing to the Goshen Diner, which is actually the Goshen Plaza Diner even though it’s not in a plaza. Maybe that was the hopeful dream of its first proprietor—an empire of storefronts that never came to fruition. Our first trip here followed a demoralizing Frozen Ropes Baseball Tournament, where dismayed parents plotted a revolt against the head coach.

    This time it was just the three of us, reflecting on today’s game in the same tournament, which was going much better. By chance, we ended up at the same table. The booth on the left fit the table exactly, while the booth on the right stretched awkwardly far, as if built for a missing fourth diner. I sat there the first time, hunched sideways over my plate. That odd design, along with the faux wooden panel above us decorated with an American flag and perched eagle, gave the place its peculiar charm.

    The menu was classic diner fare with extras, the kind of list that makes you think of Pee-wee telling Dotty, “It’s a thing you wouldn’t understand… a thing you couldn’t understand.” Prices ran two or three dollars cheaper than other diners we’ve visited lately, which likely explained why the place was hopping on a Saturday night. We were surrounded by a rush of senior citizens, a kind of corralling of prescription-powered, hungry elderly looking to stretch their social security checks.

    Our waiter, a young man with a sunny attitude, seemed half-present and half already imagining a future where he’d escaped diner monotony. Still, he was attentive enough.

    I briefly stressed over some of the more unusual menu items but settled on my old reliable: the Farmer’s Omelet—yellow American cheese, veggies, bacon, sausage chunks, rye toast, coleslaw, home fries, and a decaf coffee.

    The service dragged with the crowd, and hunger set us on edge. Then, like a leprechaun popping out of a rainbow’s backside, our server appeared with the food. A few sides were missing, but my omelet and potatoes were excellent—flavorful enough to be memorable despite how often I order them.

    Across the table, my wife faced a crisis. No white toast. She always starts with toast dipped in over-easy eggs, and its absence forced her onto the pancakes instead. The anger monkeys were on her back, throwing things, and we were about to get hit. The fuse was short before all hell broke loose. I buried myself in my plate, silently praying the bread would appear. Fortunately, it arrived in time, and peace was restored.

    In the end, the experience was pleasant. We ate, we talked baseball, and we absorbed the diner’s rhythms. At six o’clock the place was packed; by seven it had emptied to only a few tables. The turnover was so fast it was almost invisible—efficient, seamless, like the diner itself. As we left, we noticed they were voted Best Diner in 2023 and 2024, and if they keep the coffee hot and the toast coming, I don’t see anyone stealing that crown.

    Final Verdict 7.55/10

  • Remembering Pocmont

    Remembering Pocmont

    Driving to Kalahari this Sunday with my brother and son, we took an unexpected diversion and ended up going down memory lane on Route 209 South. Going to the Poconos is a special part of our family history. For my parents, it was their destination for a romantic honeymoon-style escape at places like Cove Haven and Paradise Stream. They were “Forever Lovers,” VIP members from long ago. They always spoke fondly of those resorts and their time there, saying how quickly the years had passed and how the places just weren’t what they used to be.

    Before everyone had bigger ambitions, driving two hours into the wilderness was the vacation, especially for city people. Back then you went either to the mountains or to the shore. The idea of taking a plane for a getaway was a radical departure from their modest upbringing and surroundings.

    Pocmont became another special place for us. Once my mother grew comfortable with the area and the drive, she would find a weekend, or more often several weekdays, to take advantage of better prices and bring my brother and me.

    Pocmont Lodge was one of those classic old-school Pocono resorts that had a bit of everything rolled into one. Families came in the summer for a week, parked the car, and never had to leave the property. It was a kind of limited Dirty Dancing experience, with enough activities and entertainment to fill every day.

    The food setup was classic resort dining hall style, with buffets and communal seating. The atmosphere was family-friendly but still appealing to couples on a weekend escape. I remember we had the same server for the whole trip, and we’d quickly become best friends with them. They would sneak us extra dinner rolls, bring more drinks, or even slip my mom another entrée that she would stash away in her Mary Poppins bag for her growing boys. It became an epic doggy bag for a dog who was never there.

    The campus in Bushkill was sprawling, with a lodge, conference facilities, and plenty of outdoor activities. Guests could enjoy indoor and outdoor pools, tennis courts, shuffleboard, and golf. In winter there was skiing nearby, and in summer there were organized games and entertainment. At night we would go to the live shows: cabaret-style performances, music, and comedy. Danny and I even played bocce ball with the Italian men and somehow won a weekly tournament one year, much to their surprise.

    Most of our days were spent playing ping pong in the arcade room. Ping pong is our family sport, if a family can have a sport. My mom was our teacher; she learned and played as a child at one of the city’s summer camps. We had a table at home eventually, but before that, Pocmont was where we practiced for hours, trying to beat one another on that resort table.

    Those weekends at Pocmont were our special trio getaways. It was all my mom. She worked hard to make those trips possible, saving her twenties, fifties, and hundreds. She put her own touch on every detail. The resort was fun, and the game room with its ping pong table was our anchor.

    I loved that time with Danny and my mom. The warmth, love, and adventure of those days still course through my spirit. I didn’t realize until today that our trip was an unspoken homage to our past. It was part of that unknown reason we have always been drawn back to this area. To revisit the ghosts of a well-lived childhood, filled with blessings and love. A love note to my mother for all that she did for us, and a way to keep her spirit alive through our commitment to each other and the next generation.

  • Epic Universe Part 3 – The Finale

    Epic Universe Part 3 – The Finale

    After our relaxing meal, crisscrossing back to Super Mario, we made our way out of Donkey Kong Country and into the Mushroom Kingdom. Our destination was Mario Kart Racing. This game is a favorite for both of us, and we are equally competitive against the AI and each other. We decided to use our Express Pass here to cut down on the wait.

    The inside of the ride and queue were excellent, full of detail and excitement. But the ride itself was a disappointment. The augmented reality glasses are a neat feature, but they do not succeed at immersing you in the race. The speed is painfully slow, one of the slowest in the park, and no amount of screens or AR could make up for that. I never felt like we were really moving or racing anyone.

    I had been excited about the idea of collecting power-ups, but the ride just gave you an endless supply of turtle shells. I ended up spamming them into nothing. Halfway through I lost interest and just casually tossed shells and spun the wheel without caring much. The whole thing felt more like a Disney water ride than a Universal attraction, which is the opposite of what Universal usually delivers.

    Our last stop in Mushroom Kingdom was Yoshi’s Ride, which was a big nothing. It is basically a slow loop around the area for younger kids. The highlight is seeing the land from above, but otherwise it is simple and forgettable. The colored eggs on my kart did not add much, and I kept wishing they had included some interior cut scenes or more surprises. For me, this ride needs a serious boost. I had expected Mario Kart to be the standout, but the real champ of the day was still the Mine Karts.

    From there we returned to the How to Train Your Dragon region for some nighttime rides, the Wing Gliders and the Pyre Fire Boats. The water ride was actually kind of fun. It reminded me of a half-dream memory of combining American Gladiators with a water ride, blasting other boats with water cannons. The real joy was soaking other riders and watching them get frazzled, heated, and then burst out laughing. To be fair, those spinning wooden wheels that turn when you soak them did feel like a last-minute idea that somehow made it through management.

    As the sun set, we strolled back through all the lands again, starting with the Ministry of Magic in Paris. This time we slowed down, really taking in the details, the atmosphere, and of course another butterbeer. We ended up back in Darkmoor for our third and final ride of the day on our favorite attraction, Monsters Unchained.

    The last ride of the night was the Constellation Carousel, glowing under the stars. It was a calm and fitting end to an epic day. I did not ride, it was enough for me to watch my son circle slowly under the stars, completing his list of every ride in the park. Meanwhile, I was still recovering from my final, bruising ride on the Stardust Racers. 

    I try hard to record these memories deeply in my mind, carving grooves that last a lifetime. This was one of those adventures that will last. I am so blessed, lucky, and grateful for this time together. It is a fleeting window, the teenage years before driving at sixteen, those rare years when everything still feels possible before responsibility takes over.   By the time we walked out, the park was quiet and glowing. We had conquered kingdoms, battled monsters, raced through galaxies, and sailed dragon skies. It felt like the closing of an epic quest, one that will always live in our story.

  • Epic Universe Part 2 – The Middle

    Epic Universe Part 2 – The Middle

    Stepping out of the warp pipe into the Mushroom Kingdom, the day truly began to level up. What had started as a long stretch of lines and heat was suddenly transformed into something electric. The colors, sounds, and movement around us made it feel like we had stepped into the game itself. For us, this wasn’t just another attraction—it was personal. Video game collecting has been part of our bond since the beginning, starting with an original NES we bought on eBay with Super Mario Bros. and Duck Hunt.

    The layout felt like a labyrinth, but I didn’t have to worry about directions. My son was a professional guide, already familiar with every turn from months of watching videos.

    The Donkey Kong Mine Cart had a posted wait time of 45 minutes, with the line stretching back to the entrance. The single-rider line looked empty, so we made the executive call to try it. Our thinking was that we’d knock out two of the three non–Express Pass rides early. It turned out to be a mistake. Because the vehicles seat two, single riders only get pulled in when there’s an odd-numbered party. We ended up waiting just over 45 minutes. The worst part was the animatronic Cranky Kong repeating the same line for the entire time: “Noisy Nincompoops.” By the end, that phrase was burned into my brain.

    I wasn’t expecting much from Donkey Kong, but it surprised me. Looking down, the track makes no sense, which makes the ride fun and exhilarating. It’s a mid-level coaster with plenty of flair, and when we got off, we both laughed and said the same thing: that was way better than expected.

    Leaving the Mushroom Kingdom behind, we entered the Monster area, Dark Universe. It was midday and the sun was blazing, but the land still pulled us in with swirling mist and eerie details at every turn.

    We went straight to Monsters Unchained: The Frankenstein Experiment. The first time we used our Express Pass, but we came back twice more to ride it again in the regular line. This was our ride, our jam, and in our opinion the best ride in the park. From the queue to the artwork and music, the immersion is on another level. I thought the IP might feel tired, but Universal gave it real respect and delivered for both longtime fans and first-timers. The ride is continuous like Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey, so the line moves quickly. Once inside, it’s pure brilliance. The graphics set a new standard, and the animatronics even surpass Disney. It’s an absolute triumph.

    After that, we saved Curse of the Werewolf for later. It’s a fine little coaster, but short. I usually get dizzy with spinning, but this one was more than manageable.

    Next was Stardust Racers, Universal’s homage to the legendary Dueling Dragons. I’d always regretted missing it, so this felt like redemption. Two coasters race side by side, dipping and weaving with breathtaking speed. We rode the right side first, then came back at night for the left. Both were incredible, but racing under the lights at night was unforgettable.

    From there we went to How to Train Your Dragon: Isle of Berk. By then we were hungry. We passed on the famous Mac and Cheese Cones at Spit Fyre Grill—the heat made them less appealing—and went for bowls instead. My son had Stoick’s Steak Bowl and I had Valka’s Vegan Bowl. Both were tasty and surprisingly good for quick service.

    By about 4:30 or 5 p.m., we had completed nearly every ride. Ready for another meal and a break, we ducked into the Oak and Star Tavern. We found a cozy booth for two, ordered slow-smoked brisket and BBQ jackfruit sandwiches, and enjoyed the air conditioning. The food hit the spot, but the real gift was sitting down and catching our breath.

    I was fading, but my son stayed strong. I asked if finishing everything meant we could leave a little early. He just said NO. That settled it—we were staying to see the park in all its glory, both day and night.