The Ratatouille, the Restroom, and the Renaissance of That Guy

A cautionary tale of cheese, chardonnay, and Chefs de France

Our Goal: Eat at Every Restaurant in EPCOT

We decided this was the year. The year we would eat at every restaurant in EPCOT.

Not because the food is life-changing. Honestly, a lot of it is aggressively average and overpriced. But because it is a challenge. A quest. A mildly unhinged dream to say we did it. Completion over quality.

There are some hidden gems in EPCOT, no doubt. But on this particular day, our target was Chefs de France.

The food? Decent.
The vibe? Chaotic Parisian lunch rush with extra humidity.
The tables? Packed tighter than the Lightning Lane queue during spring break.

We felt weirdly classy, eating ratatouille while elbow-to-elbow with fellow sweaty Floridians all taking a heat-induced break.

The Real EPCOT Experience

Here’s one thing EPCOT excels at: libations.

Around the World Showcase, you can drink practically anything. Margaritas in Mexico. Rosé in France. Pumpkin beer in Canada. It is a dream for adults who want a buzz with their overpriced snacks.

But here’s something EPCOT does not excel at: people who know how to handle those drinks.

Let me introduce you to the legend I now refer to as Bathroom Dad.

Scene One: Ratatouille and Regret

Midway through my lunch, I decided to top off my water and hit the restroom. A basic dad maneuver. Hydration first.

While I was at the urinal, a man—clearly a fellow dad in his early 30s—stumbled in.

He looked pale. He was sweating. He had the body language of someone whose dreams had died somewhere between Italy and Japan.

He made it to the stall. Then came the sound.

It was unmistakable. Intense. Unfiltered. The kind of violent hurling that echoes off bathroom tile like a performance no one asked for.

Let’s just say the floor got more action than the bowl.

Look, we’ve all been there. I do not fault him. I do not know whether it was the alcohol or the price of the alcohol that did him in. But this man was down bad.

I washed up, gave him the nod of silent male solidarity, and left.

Scene Two: The Encore

Roughly twenty minutes later, we were getting ready to leave France. My toddler, with the timing only children possess, declared that he had to pee now or else.

Back to the bathroom we went.

My son used the urinal. We were washing our hands.

And then it happened again.

Bathroom Dad returned.

Same guy. Same stall. This time, he looked even worse, if that’s possible.

And yes, the stall door was still open.

Round two began. The difference? This time, he actually made it into the bowl.

I almost applauded. It was a redemption arc in real-time. The comeback story of EPCOT.

Respect Where It’s Due

This man did not care. Not about who was watching. Not about the open stall door. Not about the judgment.

He had saved his PTO. He had waited months for this trip. And dammit, he was going to let go in every way possible.

What a legend.

What I Learned in the Chefs de France Bathroom

This was not just a restroom break. It was a life lesson. Several, actually.

• Drinking around the world should come with a warning label

• Children will always need the bathroom at the exact wrong moment

• Not all heroes wear capes

• And finally, if you need to vomit in EPCOT, maybe close the stall door

Final Thoughts

We never saw Bathroom Dad again. Maybe he rallied. Maybe he disappeared into the Germany pavilion. Maybe he’s still recovering in the shade near Morocco.

But I think about him often.

He came to EPCOT to live fully, vomit freely, and leave his mark in more ways than one. He is part of my Disney lore now.

To that man, wherever you are: I salute you.

May your hangover be gentle and your credit card bill merciful.

Blog Author Note

Written by a dad who dined at Chefs de France, witnessed two rounds of themed regret, and still booked another EPCOT trip the following month.