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Universal Studios



Universal Studios in Orlando is a quirky, hilarious place that really makes you feel like you’re stepping into your favorite movies. There are vintage movie posters and props scattered everywhere you look, and fun Easter eggs for mega fans to geek out over. I love it.

There’s something really special about movies and television. They’re larger than life. They make us think about all the amazing things that could be. ...And entertainment from our childhood is on another level. It’s nostalgic and a little bit sad, while making us smile at the very same time.



My husband, Brent, grew up watching The Simpsons. His family even gathered around to watch the special holiday themed episodes they run each year at Halloween. The Simpsons were this slightly edgy, definitely cool thing they could all do together. As he and his brother got older, they could still connect over episodes they’d seen together. I have often found them as adults in our living room, laughing their heads off at a rerun they love.


When Brent and I visited Universal Studios this past September, we weren’t really sure what to expect. Brent hadn’t been to the park since “Jaws” was a #1 film, so I knew this trip would be a little bit different from the previous ones. What I didn’t expect was the absolute wonder on his face when we turned a corner and found ourselves in The Simpson’s hometown of Springfield.


His. Jaw. Dropped.



We smelled the deep fried goodness that was Lard Lad’s Donuts and stopped for a bite with Officer Wiggum. We rode the Simpsons’ Ride and narrowly escaped Sideshow Bob’s clutches. We saw Krustyland in all its...Krusty-ness. Everything was technicolor and punny and fun. It looked just like the show in the best of ways.



But the real crowning moment in this experience was seeing Moe’s Tavern. It was only 10 in the morning, and the place wasn’t open yet. Brent stared at in in awe. “Go try to door,” I told him. “I’m sure someone is in there.”


He tentatively approached the door and pulled on it...low and behold, the door opened. He peeked his head in. A sweet woman yelled: “We’re closed, but come on in and take your pictures.”


Brent sat at the bar and pretended to be Barney Gumble’s drinking buddy. He touched the bar and the booths with something that bordered on reverence. He even asked me to take his picture- something he often accepts grudgingly but never requests willingly.



I felt like we were time travelers, and I was somehow seeing a part of Brent’s childhood. It was an experience I won’t soon forget.



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