So Joanne and I are in Club 33, the quasi-secret, invitation-only restaurant in Disneyland, through an unmarked door in New Orleans Square and up a flight of stairs. We're with her co-workers for her firm's summer party, and we're sucking back lobster and prime rib and cheese cake, and we're being lavishly attended to, and we're gawking at the Victorian men's club atmosphere, and we're just generally having a hell of a time.

And the only reason I bring this up is that Claudia -- my Disney-freak friend -- has never been there. Ha. Ha ha. Ha.