Disney Hollywood Studios theme park
Second worst sight of the day: young English mother in front of me in the line for lunch -- fashionably low-waisted jeans, fashionably commando (or so it seemed), fashionably broad in the beam (for Disney visitation, that is) -- bending over frequently to deal with her rambunctious toddler and every time mooning me with a coin slot long enough for all of Apolo Ohno's medals.
Worst sight of the day: The bearded, middle-aged man in the bathroom lifting his shirt and waggling his thus-denuded lower back underneath a warm-air hands dryer.
Now I come to write these up, it strikes me there's an anatomical parallel between these two observations, but out of sheer good taste I choose not to go there.
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