the arcade redemption station, the sting.

When my younger brother was handed our collective arcade effort of 1,113 orange bar-coded tickets, there was little hesitation. Disney World is not the place for hesitation, it can confuse and alienate you faster than a briar rabbit if you let your gaurd down. We figured my brother had been handed perforated paper keys to Disney World's soul. When he asked for 1,113 neon pink orange yellow green blue plastic airplanes from the white 1 ticket bin, the woman behind the glass didn't even flinch at the request, much less at my brother's snickering entourage. She pulled the bin out and placed it on the counter, counting "1, 2, 4, 5, 7, 10, 12, 14..." as she fondled plastic fuselages. Finally, after realizing that 1,113 plastic airplanes is quite a magnitude of molded colored plastic, the arcade woman wandered into the back room for more. We waited for our prizes patiently. For some reason we weren't anxious to be compensated for our harrowing shuffle puck rescue from the ski-ball target and the consequent ski-ball rescue from the gift shop...maybe we were surprised we hadn't already been ejected for rambunctious behavior and public displays of heterosexuality and vibrantly colorful language. So when she came back with three wholesale bags of tiny plastic airplanes, we regained our composure and calmly exited with our winnings.
Naturally, we proceeded to distribute the plastic airplanes throughout Disney World. We handed them to small children and senior citizens, we left them in napkin dispensers, hid them in soda fountains, and melted them to toaster ovens. We threw handfuls of them from the tops of various roller coasters and performed an unsuccessful gravitation experiment on the tower of terror. Yet surprisingly, people weren't as overjoyed as we thought we were going to make them. Actually, most everyone was distrustful of these little planes, and annoyed with us. Funny, but I think if we were handing out those silly orange tickets, people would've responded better. There is a more philisophical stance on this in the song "blowah spank job" by the names that spell.

THENAMESTHATSPELL : blowah spank job