How an autistic adult does his \#UOAP afternoon.

Originally posted to Universal Orlando Annual Passholder Facebook Group

How an autistic adult (specifically, me) does #UOAP on a Sunday afternoon (FYI, every Sunday afternoon):

  1. Arrive as close to 4:00 PM as possible (when the Premier Pass Express privilege kicks in).

  2. Ride Mummy (try not to shout INCENDIO! just before the ceiling erupts in flames, then complain when AGUAMENTI doesn’t work to put them out).

  3. Ride Transformers 3D (—We’re on our own; what do we do now? —BEG FOR MERCY).

  4. Ride Fast & Furious, if there’s time, because, as of 16.9 seconds ago, you’re the man in charge—LET’S GO, COOKIEPUSS!

  5. Ride Gringotts, knowing full well that Bellatrix and Voldie could’ve used the entrance door a mere few feet to your left from where they busted through the wall of the vault.

  6. Take Hogwarts Express to IoA. Make faces and gestures bordering on “not intended for mixed company” at the overhead security camera.

  7. Post-graduate study group in Magical Creatures with Hagrid, if you were able to get a time. Make sure as you offboard that the TM is aware of somebody’s iPhone that inevitably flew out of his or her hoodie and caught your attention during the ride, usually because it’s in a glitter case that can be spotted by reconnaissance satellites in low earth orbit.

  8. Ride Forbidden Journey. Reply to the talking portrait of Salazar Slytherin in the queue that, as a muggle, you are there just to p*ss him off.

  9. Ride Kong. Be fascinated that the great ape grew awfully fast between killing the dinos and greeting your bus as a VERY LARGE animatronic head in the very next scene. Or maybe that was just the Son of Kong who kicked dino a*s and saved yours a few seconds earlier.

  10. Last ride of the day: Hulk. Make sure you check in on your Swarm app before you stuff all of your material possessions (including your phone, without which you are naked and going through cocaine-like withdrawals) into a ride locker.

And, of course, you are doing all this in full Ravenclaw attire, because when the breeze hits your robe and makes it billow out the back as you walk with purpose toward your next attraction, the inner twelve-year-old that lives in your 48-year-old self feels like a total BAD*SS.