“I’m Goin’ to Disney World!”

In 2008, approximately 17,000,000,000 people visited Disney World’s Magic Kingdom in Orlando, Florida. This years figure could be lower, but I doubt it. Disney World is one of those vacation destinations that no matter the state of the economy, people go. They come from across oceans; they visit from the next county over. Students take class trips to Disney World. Newlyweds honeymoon at Disney World. Family’s scrimp and save all year so they can pack up the kids, and spend one of their precious weeks of vacation at Disney World. In good times and in bad, people continue to flock to Disney World. It’s almost a rite of passage. To become properly immersed in popular American culture, Disney World is a prerequisite.
Frequently they visit more than once. The arrival of each new family member requires a visit to Disney World. Some parents seem to think that newborns will truly appreciate the entire splendor Disney World offers. Like a newborn colt walking only minutes after it’s born, shortly after a child’s birth, reservations are made for their first trek to this hub of entertainment. The proper age for a child to enjoy all that Disney World has to offer is open to interpretation.
Some parents will swear that their one year old had the time of their short lives not being able to go on the rides-the changing table in the “family” restroom does not constitute a ride- not recognizing the beloved characters Mickey and Minnie Mouse, nor is the infant, contrary to popular belief, thrilled to be dressed up in one of the innumerable Disney character outfits available for a small king’s ransom at one of the thousand retail outlets strategically situated around the park. The parents may have had the time of their lives bringing baby to Disney World before its eyes even have the ability to focus, but the child did not, and you’ll never convince me otherwise. It is the parents who will glow with unmitigated delight over the hundreds of photos they took of their drooling? crying? screaming? sleeping? kid on its first trip to Disney World. Three is good age for the first hajj to entertainments answer to Mecca. Two is a cute time. The kid might be duly impressed and unable to quell their excitement; but all things considered, the child will never remember anything about that first trip past the age of ten. With any luck, by that time, the child’s parents will add another sibling, and another trip will take place. It is doubtful any recognition of the fond moments of the inaugural visit will come flooding back. However, new memories will be made, and those should last a lifetime, unless they’re spoiled by the undivided attention the parents must devote to the drooling, sleeping, crying, screaming new baby brother or sister. Three is the age. The child can go on all the kid rides, and some of the bigger ones if accompanied by Mom or Dad. All Disney characters walking around the park will elicit squeals of utter joy upon their detection. At three the child will be filled with wonder and awe at virtually every turn. If not, the kid will return again and enjoy the king of theme parks from a different perspective. I did.
This year, Disney World instituted a “celebration program” granting anyone who is celebrating a particular event the choice of perks. Whether you’re celebrating an anniversary, birthday, graduation etc., you have the choice of free admission, fast pass access, which gives the celebrant and up to six members of their party, priority access to rides and attractions; or discounted multi-park tickets. This program is for Florida residents only, that’s me. I celebrated my birthday this year at Disney World-free of charge for admission. There’s no need for fast pass access. Since I’m handicapped by a missing appendage, I get favored admittance anyway. This came in quite handy on my previous visit as well. Yes, I’ve made previous trips to Disney World. However, I’ve only been twice before, fourteen and thirty-eight years ago; I qualify for control group status nonetheless.
I visited Disney World in 1972, the first summer after it opened; I was fourteen. I returned in the summer of 1994 with my son and a friend in tow. It was my son’s first Disney experience; he was nine and a half, I was thirty-seven. Since my first visit occurred so late in my youth, I did not suffer from coolism concerning certain aspects Disney. I was not too cool to go on rides under normal circumstances would be considered gay by the current generation of corresponding age. I did not need to be stoned to meet Mickey and the rest of Walt Disney’s creations. I thought the parade down Main Street was neat at the time. If I was fourteen today, I’d probably categorize the parade as “stupid” and “for babies” suppressing all outward emotions lest be perceived as a big pussy for enjoying it.
My second visit was not for me, but for my son and his friend. Don’t get me wrong, I got a kick out of doing all sorts of stuff with the boys, but the appeal was in observing the enjoyment they derived from the wonderful world of Disney. This year’s trip I was initially reluctant to make. My wife was the one who was gung ho about it. She originally wanted to go for her birthday back in February. That wasn’t feasible. However, as my birthday approached she started to grease the skids about a Disney trek. After some thoughtful consideration, I agreed. She could have her Disney excursion, and I’d go along for the ride, or so I thought. You know how it goes, “The best laid plans of mice and men…” and all that shit.
When I mentioned to my son, now twenty-four, of our plans for my birthday he was surprised, but not overly so. He stated that recently there had been a rash of people he knew choosing to revisit Disney World. His tone reflected a “what’s up with this new Disney thing?” attitude. Well, I’m here to tell ya, I had a blast.
My wife and I arrived prior to the park being opened. We occupied one of the 12,213 parking spots available around the 30,500 acre site, only several dozen others joined us at that early hour. I was enamored with all the usual stuff. The rides like Splash Mountain, and Big Thunder Mountain Railroad were way cool; others like Jungle Cruise, Pirates of the Caribbean, and the Liberty Square Riverboat held their special appeal. I once may have found them boring or insignificant, now I appreciated them for what they were; momentary respites of light entertainment from a tiring afternoon of walking in the hot sun. Yes, after a little cajoling from my wife I relented and did the “it’s a small world” deal. The song still drove me batshit, but I zoned it out while admiring the attention to detail the construction the attraction consisted of. Much to my chagrin, for a third time Space Mountain was not open. I’m sure if I ever get to ride on it, I will be immensely disappointed, particularly after the anticipatory build for all these years. You know, I even found the people I came in contact with entertaining.
Upon arriving I was issued a button with my name on it that announced it was my birthday. From the moment I stepped through the gates every employee of Disney World hailed me with hearty birthday greetings. I obligingly thanked them. However, after nearly six hours of it the luster wore off a bit. Even other patrons took to wishing me a happy birthday which was nice.
The bodily shape of many of these patrons reflected the current health crisis afflicting parts of the world today. The disease of overactive elbow was glaringly apparent. Knifis forkis noninterruptus was well represented in many cultures. The last time I heard that many different foreign languages spoken in one place was on a school class trip to the United Nations. And if it wasn’t a different language I heard, it was a different accent. I was fortunate enough to hear a conversation that consisted of a trio of New Zealand, Australian, South African? accents dominated by one thick New York intonation.
While stopping for a cigarette, I got to hear the self-appointed spokesperson of the mindset of the average American concerning the current state of affairs in this country. He was sharing these narrow, ill-informed, baseless, insights with our friends from abroad. No wonder the rest of the world thinks we’re a bunch of assholes. I was appalled that this was the undeclared designated representative viewpoint this group of folks would come away with. After our man from NYC got done with his tale of gloom and doom, I wanted to chase down those three newly enlightened visitors, and tell them that man that just took up fifteen minutes of their lives was full of shit. His paranoid ranting was nothing but fear driven nonsense fueled by the evening news. But I didn’t bother; I was having too good a time to let one nincompoop ruin my birthday. I’m sure there were many others possessing scorched brain pans among the forty-odd thousand in attendance that day. I just hope our foreign guest don’t run into them.