I am sitting astride a banshee. My head tells me this isn’t possible, but it’s hard to dispute the huge creature pulsating beneath my legs. The damp smell of the forest canopy stretched beneath us permeates my nostrils; I glance to my left and see a line of banshees sat with us, perched on a rocky outcrop. Suddenly one takes off, rising up before swooping low and disappearing into the forest.
And then with a lurch, I realise it’s our turn. The wind is suddenly rushing, the trees are a green blur. We swoop into the foliage and there’s a pungent scent of moss, earth and wet leaves as we streak between trees. The forest ends and we emerge into a wide ocean vista, sparkling in the warm sunshine. We continue on, swooping through salty waves, which rise up and crash around us. An enormous barnacle-encrusted whale looms upwards forcing us to swerve, and we’re hit by a huge spurt as it plunges back into the depths. My banshee snorts and shakes its head, spraying me with droplets.
My mind has given up trying to believe this isn’t real. This is Walt Disney World, where anything is possible – not least riding a banshee through the world of Pandora.