EPCOT's Drink Around The World: A noble alcohol pursuit

You must be this sober to ride.

Behold my winter-pale fish-belly forearm. The wrinkling is from the tattoo, really.

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It was right around the time I was eating a spicy tuna roll and sipping on sake slushy, with a belly already full of an Italian bellini, barbacoa empanadas, a Norwegian pilsner called “Juniper,” Chinese orange chicken, some good old-fashioned American barbecue pork, and half a dozen other concessions that I started to think perhaps I’d made a bit of a tactical error in trying to drink my way around Walt Disney World’s Epcot park.

Of all the Disney theme parks, Epcot — at one time an acronym that stood for “Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow” — is at once both the nerdiest and the coolest. It’s nerdy because it still carries remnants of that sparkly optimistic “bringing you a better future … today!” brand of early-1960s kitch, where everything was hopeful, joyful and blindingly white. (In every sense of the word.) Epcot often veers a little too close to “wait, are we learning something here?” for most kids, which means it’s much less compelling to wee brains than the Magic Kingdom or other IP-laden parks.

At the same time, Epcot is the coolest Disney park — yes, “cool” is a relative term, ride with me here — for several reasons. First, it’s the park least infected with constant character appearances and themed “worlds.” True, there’s a badass “Guardians of the Galaxy” rollercoaster that will separate you from your lunch while you rock out to hits of the ‘70s and ‘80s. But for the most part, Epcot exists in its own well-manicured little universe.

Second, and more importantly: Epcot has alcohol everywhere. From all over the world. And it doesn’t hide this fact; Epcot embraces its we know you just want to get drunk ethos. They know their target market: 1. parents who have had to deal with one too many expensive trip upgrades, costly snacks, tantrum-throwing tots or incomprehensible MagicBands; or 2. kid-free goofballs who want the experience of a pub crawl without the unwelcome real-world side effects of toxic bathrooms, creepy regulars or seedy vagrants.

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Whether by insidiously brilliant design or happy accident — it’s even money either way — Epcot is uniquely set up to provide a perfect day-drinking experience, thanks to a cultural hijacking of what was supposed to be a high-minded ideal: the World Showcase. The back half of Epcot is entirely made up of 11 different “countries,” where you can bask in Disneyfied versions of Mexico, Norway, China, Germany, Italy, America, Japan, Morocco, France, the U.K. and Canada. Yes, it’s pretty much as American as it gets to look at the vast panorama of international cultures and think, Hey, what if I just got rip-hammered in every one of those?

Here’s the top half of the Epcot map, showing the various stops along the way:

Each of these pavilions provides a reasonable facsimile of what life is like in (an idealized version of) the given “country.” The France pavilion, for instance, is accurate right down to the bouquinistes, small green wooden book stalls that line the Seine River in Paris. These particular bouqinistes contained much more family- and copyright-friendly fare than you’ll find in the real ones, though. Plus, the Epcot versions of the French cafes, while visually accurate, had much more room between the tables to accommodate our sprawling American asses. Oh, and there weren’t French people smoking with cynical disdain and pigeons stealing your food right off your plate. Other than that, magnifique!

All of the various “countries” are apparently staffed by “cast members” who, in fact, hail from those countries — German exchange students from Germany pouring thick Germany beers, Italian youths serving up tiramisu, et cetera. (Most food-and-drink kiosks had two workers efficiently serving up their nation’s wares. The United States pavilion had eight workers in its kiosk, two of whom were working and six who were standing around. Observation presented without judgment or editorial spin.)

Now, the Disney Adult phenomenon — where grown-ass adults spend significant time/money/headspace focused on Disney and its products — always strikes me as more than a little weird, but I’m willing to suspend my skepticism when we’re talking about large groups of people joyfully drinking on the move. I am always in favor of this, whether they’re wearing dirty, sweaty Santa outfits or stylized Mickey ears.

No, a drink around Epcot isn’t a true pub crawl any more than Disney is an accurate representation of reality. (Space Mountain neither goes into space nor is a mountain. Discuss.) But the communal nature of an Epcot Drink Around The World bonds friends in joy and poverty (more on that in a minute). And you’re guaranteed to get some magnificent photos for the ‘gram, and isn’t that what life is all about in 2025?

Here are a few lessons I learned from attempting — and completing, if you count “just a sip at several stops” as completing — to drink around the world at Epcot earlier this year. Use as needed:

Start saving now. Outside of a house, there are three Big-Ticket purchases in your life that prospective parents need to start saving for in their own teenage years, or else they’re hopelessly behind: your kid’s college, your kid’s wedding, and a Disney trip. No matter how much you think that Disney trip is going to cost, add a zero onto it. Maybe two. At every park, you’ll see dads walking around with bootleg Disney shirts that read “I’m the one paying for this” or “Who’s got two thumbs and no more money?” If you see them early in the morning, you’ll think they’re humorless grumps. If you see them after a couple meals, you’ll ask them where you can get one of your own.

The financial impact of drinking around the Epcot world is a matter of simple math: 11 countries with 11 drinks at $15 to $20 a pop, plus whatever local fare you line your stomach with. Hey, your kid doesn’t need four years of college, do they?

Go ahead, get a dorky t-shirt. Disney doesn’t officially recognize the “Drink Around The World” phenomenon; it’s more of a “just don’t puke in a stranger’s stroller and we’ll all get along just fine” philosophy. So you’re on your own to come up with your drinking apparel, and I heartily endorse getting group t-shirts, temporary tattoos or some other means of identifying your tribe. (There’s a whole cottage industry of such products over at Etsy, for instance.) Plus, it’s useful to have a neon-pink or highlighter-yellow t-shirt to locate the rest of your party when the day gets late.

Go clockwise. I have no idea why the preferred method of traversing Epcot is Mexico-to-Canada, clockwise around the showcase, but it’s probably because a) Americans have a natural tendency to move in a clockwise direction, or b) everyone else is doing it that way, so it’s best not to be swimming upstream all day. It’s definitely not c) “Starting out the day with a big ol’ burrito and ending it with a syrupy Canadian stout is a good idea,” because dear lord, it ain’t. But everyone goes clockwise — I even saw an incredibly niche shirt that said “Friends don’t let friends start in Canada” — and I would imagine that means the servers in the U.K. and Canada receive tips that are either magnificent or nonexistent … and the bathrooms in that segment of the park are surely treacherous, at best.

Calories don’t count, but foods will collide. The food at Epcot ranges from sort-of-high-end, white-tablecloth, need-a-reservation fine fare to mall-food-court-steam-table gunk. Some items are must-grab (the School Bread in Norway, for instance: primo). Others, like anything within spitting distance of chicken fingers and fries, you can pass. This is a marathon, not a sprint, and like a marathon, you really don’t want to end up cramping up in Morocco.

But it’s worth checking out the level of culinary sophistication that Epcot can produce, as noted on the kiosks below. Zoom in and salivate:

Don’t get too drunk … but if you do, please film it. Our crew of about 17 included numerous college students, who are more than capable of holding their alcohol in voluminous, watered-down quantities. However, there are stories of Round-the-World’ers who were much less prepared for the onslaught of alcohol they unleashed upon their livers, and nothing says “Happiest Place on Earth” quite like cussing drunkenly until the Disney secret police come for you.

Of course, once this topic came up during our day’s wanderings, that set us off on a 20-minute discussion of what Disney Jail is like, and which characters would be likely to commit police brutality in an interrogation. (Easy pick is Donald Duck. But I think it’s Goofy you’ve got to watch out for. He’s got a Southern-deputy-in-1962 vibe about him.)

Now, go out and actually visit a few of these countries for real. The most insufferable person in your party is going to be the one who says, “See, when I was in [the real country a given pavilion is mimicking], here’s what was different…” (Hi. It’s me. I’m the problem.) That said, please don’t be one of those people whose entire international experience is touring around Epcot. Make a vow — preferably after six or seven Epcot drinks — to visit another country and see what it’s like to drink and eat in-country for real. (Hell, it’ll be cheaper than this Epcot trip.) Then you can come back to Epcot and be the annoying “well, actually” type and annoy all your friends.

In conclusion, Epcot is a land of contrasts. And they all look better through the bottom of a $16 plastic cocktail cup.

We all have a Disney experience that went very different than planned. Please, share yours in the comments below.

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Song of the Week: ‘Ain’t Rocked in a While,’ Brent Cobb

Aw hell yeah, this is the good stuff. Beginning with a filthy, swampy groove and kicking hard into gear, this tune from country-music singer-songwriter Brent Cobb delivers like a mother. Cobb’s a Georgia cat who moved to Nashville on the advice of Luke Bryan, and got his break as a songwriter while working in the photo department at a Walgreen’s. He’s written tunes for Bryan, Kenny Chesney, Miranda Lambert and others. Good thing he kept this one for himself; it gets a solid five out of five steering-wheel drum solos.

“Ain’t Rocked in a While” and all our other recommendations are always available at the Flashlight & A Biscuit Spotify playlist, now 100 percent gluten free.

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Stunt Food of the Week: The Boomstick Burrito

The man tracked the mammoth for weeks, over icy peaks and through chill valleys. He stalked the mammoth, knowing it would feed his village for a month. One glorious day, he brought down the mammoth. And as he reveled in his glorious triumph, he realized … I should just roll this damn thing up in a tortilla. And that was how the burrito was born.

Or maybe not. Anyway, we have a mammoth-sized burrito here courtesy of the Texas Rangers. The Boomstick Burrito weighs a tidy three-and-a-half pounds, and consists of taco meat, pico de gallo, and a bunch of other junk stuffed inside a 26-inch-diameter burrito. A boomstick, of course, is a sawed-off shotgun capable of blowing holes in things, “things” in this case being “your colon.” Enjoy!

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That’ll do it for this week, friends. Enjoy the last days of reasonably cool springtime, and we’ll see you right back here soon!

—Jay
Land Cat, Georgia

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This is issue #160 of Flashlight & A Biscuit. Check out all the past issues right here. Feel free to email me with your thoughts, tips and advice. If you’re new around here, jump right to our most-read stories, or check out some of our recent hits:

• Home Turn, our new show for NASCAR Studios, is right here for you to watch:

• Dispatch from Augusta: Azaleas, green jackets, pimento cheese n’ such

• On nostalgia, memories and $12 milkshakes

• The Pollening is upon us, abandon all hope

• Let’s create an open-road playlist

• Our first documentary, on the famous Rama Jama’s diner in Tuscaloosa, Alabama

• What does “Flashlight & A Biscuit” mean, anyway?

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