24. Disney Journal

Note: This is pretty disjointed. These are basically recollections I gathered over my 5 days at various Disney World parks. I had a good time but am ready to be done talking about Disney stuff. But hope you enjoy.

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My left knee feels okay, but I can tell there’s something going on with it. A sprain? Did I rip some tendon somewhere, perhaps at the gym? We’ve just entered the Magic Kingdom and my 5 senses are already working overtime. My heart says “magic” but my brain says “everything you’re sensing is by design.” My cynicism is already bumming me out.

The good folks at Disney know what they’re doing, as the smell of cotton candy enters my nose. “Part of Your World” from The Little Mermaid is playing and I wonder how many times I’ll hear this song over the next five days. I contemplate keeping a running tally in the same way I keep a running tally of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” every holiday season. I remember how much I always end up hate doing that and decide not to. There’s a new The Little Mermaid movie coming out in a couple of months, so I’m guessing the number would be in the upper 50s.

I’ve been to Disney World and neighboring parks more times than I can count, so it’s easy to feel a little jaded about the experience, but the look of awe on my nieces’ faces wipes all cynicism away. We’re seasoned pros, but this is their first time coming to this park, and I remember how special that can be. This will be a fun day.

“Dad, can you buy me this Mickey Mouse plushy?”

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The boats on the “It’s a Small World After All” ride probably scoot along at 3 nautical miles per hour, but that might just be the best ride at the park. At least it is for my money. It is a small world. Let’s act accordingly. Plus, it has robot dolls doing the Can-Can.

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When you enter the Hall of Presidents auditorium, the Disney cast member instructing us over the microphone tells us, “Please stay to the far right.” I nod at the irony.  

The Hall of Presidents hasn’t aged super well. To be clear, I’ve never seen this show before, but I can tell that it used to be highly problematic and that they’ve probably added some tweaks and improvements to make it ever so slightly less so. There are only so many ways you can spruce up a show that has Andrew Jackson, Richard Nixon, and Donald Trump (among others) in it. By the way, the Donald Trump robot sticks out like a sore thumb. He’s kind of slumped over and his tie is as ridiculous as it always is. Everyone else looks more or less pretty dignified.

They’ve added spikes to the front of the auditorium to prevent people from attacking the Obama and Trump robots. I’m no Donald Trump fan but attacking a robot to make a point is next level dumb. Not the right audience. Not the right time or place. 

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I take back what I said earlier. The “Haunted Mansion” is the best ride. It has narration and dad joke level puns. Plus, it has robots doing the waltz.

I can hear my kids in the car ahead of me playing “smash or pass” with each ghost they pass by.

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My left knee hurts but I pick up my niece Megan and throw her onto my shoulders. She is 4 and is at a weight where it’s easier to carry her there than as a piggyback ride or on my front like a kangaroo. My shoulders may not look like much, but there’s still a bit of that old Marine in there somewhere.  

I wonder what Disney World looks like on tall shoulders. I imagine when you’re 4, the 6 feet of distance between you and the ground feel like 60. Perhaps she imagines her uncle to be a magic carpet. Somewhere between the Peter Pan ride and Frontier Land, my shoulders start to hurt and I contemplate putting her down. But I know the weight my niece carries on her shoulders has its own gravity, too, so I shoulder on. I’ll need Advil later.

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SOAPBOX warning: I’ve always had a hard time with the usual arguments against the Disney Princesses. I 100% get the arguments; that they’re socializing women to need men, that the princesses are often damsels in distress and/or not as interesting as the other characters of their own story, that they’ve given up their voices/talents/etc. for the love of a man, etc etc etc. I get it. I even agree with most of it on principle alone. But I guess what I have an issue with is we don’t put male characters through the same wringer with the same intensity of magnifying glass.

Does anyone remember any critique from any Star Wars, DC, or Marvel movie where people see the violence therein from the point of view of how “men are men?” I don’t remember any, but perhaps I’m just not seeing it. And yet every time there’s a new Disney princess movie coming out, it’s the same old “these characters are problematic” stuff going around social media. Yes, the Disney princesses are problematic, but at least they solve their problems by some other means other than violence. But yes, there need to be more women bad ass characters in movies and shows.

Here’s a fun thought experiment. Off the top of your head, name 10 fictional male characters. Then when you’re done, name 10 fictional female characters – none of which can be Disney Princesses. Not as easy to do, hence my mixed feelings on the whole Disney Princess “thing.” /end rant

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My left knee hurts. I think I hurt it at the gym, but didn’t realize I had hurt it there because I had taken Advil earlier that day for an unrelated ache. Being 45 years old can suck sometimes. I check my phone and see that I’m approaching 12,000 steps for the day. Walking from the bus, to the gates of EPCOT, from fake-France to fake-Italy to fake-Morocco to fake-wherever requires a lot of foot-to-pavement action.

I’m in EPCOT on St. Patrick’s Day and although I’m having a good time, I enjoy making several of my friends laugh over text more than anything that park has to offer me that day. Maybe. I don’t know. I honestly can’t tell if I’m bothering them with my random humorous texts or if I’m just entertaining myself with my own musings. I would kill to have a conversation with an adult that doesn’t involve discussing how long line wait times are for any of the rides we’ve signed up to ride.

Somewhere in the distance, an Irish band plays a traditional Irish folk song near fake-United Kingdom. I wonder if fake-Northern Ireland ever has a conflict with fake-Britain at EPCOT.

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Finally, some rest and relaxation for the knee. I ditch the family at the park and head back to the hotel for some reading and writing. The weather is absolutely gorgeous, so I do that outside on a bench not far from my hotel room. Despite its politics being a real shitshow and it being the sleeveless shirt/mullet combo capitol of the world, I’ve always had a real soft spot for Florida. I kind of dig the humidity and all the lush greenery.

I’m reading a book called Little Weirds by Jenny Slate and am pretty blown away by both her writing style and how much of herself she’s putting onto each page. I’ve recently found an old online journal of mine and have been going through some of my old writings. I was a much different person at 25 than I am at 45. A lot of my old writing is junk, but some of it is pretty ok.

The combination of reading Jenny Slate’s book and writings from my younger, freer self have kind of sent me into a weird existential funk. Is that kind of free thinking, free flowing writing I used to do even possible anymore? Can I ever get back to that place? Is exposing my heart on page something I’ll ever be able to do?

I take a stroll around the little man-made Disney lake and breathe in the fresh Florida air. Every day all day, you’ll pass families coming to and from one of the Disney parks. It’s always easy to tell if they’re coming back or going to. I pass a young family with a young girl in a Princess Jasmine costume.    

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My knee hurts, but I’m too nervous to really notice. I’m waiting in line to ride the Rise of the Resistance ride at Hollywood Studios and am worried that the ride will make me sick. I’m 4 decades into a losing battle against a weak inner ear and an even weaker stomach.

I’ve gotten sick on an airplane. I’ve gotten sick on a military helicopter. I’ve gotten sick on a US Navy ship. I’ve gotten sick on a roller coaster. I’ve gotten sick on a fishing boat. I’ve gotten sick on a merry-go-round. I like to joke that if it moves, I’ve gotten sick on it. I like to joke. But the truth of the matter is getting motion sick really bums me out. I can be kind of an uptight, overly stressed out individual, so I like to think that no one would enjoy how free a rollercoaster feels more than I would. Remind me not to anger the motion sick gods in any reincarnated life I go through.

I’ve watched YouTube videos of this ride and know that I’ll be fine, but I don’t know-know 100% because I’ve never been on this ride before. So instead of being excited for this ride, I’m anxious about it. I’m that guy at Disney World who takes Dramamine and drowsily wanders from ride exit to ride exit, waiting for my family to get off whatever fun ride they’re riding.

When we finally get into the line queue itself, I am suddenly overcome with emotion. The best Disney rides are wholly immersive experiences that can make you feel like you’re actually a part of whatever story they’re trying to tell. The original Star Wars came out in May 1977. I came literally out of my mom’s body 6 months later. I literally don’t know a world without Star Wars in it.

The Rise of Resistance is an upper echelon ride experience that puts you directly into a Star Wars movielike experience. So going from extreme ride anxiety to the elation of feeling like you’re a part of a movie franchise that almost feels like part of your DNA… it’s overwhelming. I don’t think you could have jackhammered the smile off my face.

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“Do you know why the pebble lined sidewalk that runs through Liberty Square at Disney World is brown? In colonial America, they didn’t have indoor plumbing, so the people would just release their waste into the middle of the road, creating a brown river of urine and poop that ran through town. The Disney Imagineers decided to add that detail to this part of the park. So that sidewalk we’re walking on is an homage to that.”

My brother-in-law Dan Geist dropping truth bombs like John Adams dropped deuce bombs back in the day, apparently. By the way, that’s all true. I instantly think of Janeane Garofalo’s “they didn’t have silverware in medieval times, hence they don’t have silverware at Medieval Times. Would you like a refill on your Pepsi” line from Cable Guy.

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Tomorrow Land is out of date. Tomorrow Land looks like what people in the 80s thought the future would look like, so it looks vaguely 90s. The color scheme looks like the original Space Jam color palette.

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My knee hurts, but I’m too busy piloting the Buzz Lightyear ride for my 4 year old niece and my sister-in-law. My brother-in-law and sister-in-law are going through a pretty intense divorce process, and it’s been really hard on everyone. I hope this trip to Disney World provides them with a nice 4-day break from reality. Disney is great at this kind of thing.

My niece Megan is attempting to shoot the aliens on the ride but is failing rather miserably at doing so. She’s pressing the trigger which is all she really should be doing. Rides and games like this should have a kid setting where just firing the darn thing is enough. Precision be damned. She scores 700 points. Solid. Buzz Lightyear gives her a salute as we head back out into the warm Florida air.

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There comes a moment on every Disney trip (especially if it’s to the Magic Kingdom) where I just get sick and tired of everything and I’m there. My five senses are so worn out from over stimulation that my sixth, seventh, and eighth senses feel like they’ve been beaten into submission. If I hear “A Whole New World” one more time, I might go crazy. Just as I think that, I hear it again. We pass the carousel and it feels like I’ve entered into one of those fucked up dreams Pee-Wee Herman had in Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure as he’s imagining clowns doing surgery on his lost bike. Speaking of, I sit at a bench and wait for my kids to get off the Peter Pan ride. I could have gone on with them, but I’m tapped out and ready to be anywhere but here. We still have hours to go.

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 No matter how jaded I get, how cynical these parks can make me feel, or how “over it” I can feel on any given day at one of these parks, the fireworks show always brings me back to center. Disney World is nothing if not a well-oiled and perfectly run machine. Next week when I’m back at work, this park will just be this. It will be exactly as it was yesterday, exactly as it is right now, and exactly as it will be tomorrow and the day after that. That’s always blown my mind.

The fireworks show is pretty perfect at Disney World. Most fireworks shows like on the 4^th of July or New Year’s Eve are pretty decent, but the Disney fireworks show adds in a fair amount of story between the exploding gunpowder. Those songs you were dreading hearing hours earlier are back to putting a lump in your throat. By the way, that lump in your throat stays in your throat until you get back to your hometown. You have a lump in your throat as you walk out of the park to Mickey saying “see you real soon.” You get a lump in your throat as you sigh your way through the TSA line at the Orlando airport. You have a lump in your throat the entire plane ride back. You’ll finally release the lump in your throat when you get home and remember “real life ain’t so bad after all.” I had a good time. Yeah, parts of it weren’t fun and I kind of feel over the whole process, but there’s a part of my that can’t wait to get back. I know that part of me will only grow over time and before I know it we’ll probably be planning yet another Disney trip. Damnit, Disney, you’ve done it again.