Disney Shame

Whenever possible, you should insert a vibe shifter. Some sort of escape or just a jolt to the nervous system that startles you awake, and  no place gives me equal parts joy and overwhelm than Disney.  I always discover something about myself in how my mood handles being throttled into Disneyland, for instance, I had no idea being bullied by StormTroopers was a turn on. Thank you Star Wars Land! It’s been a clear indicator what relationships are gonna work or not and all and all helps me identify how close or far I’m feeling from myself. Can I allow myself to unironically be excited over a big $4 dollar pickle and seeing an animatronic Harrison Ford? If not, am I even alive?

  A shameful time to go to Disneyland, for sure. My friend and I had planned this a couple months ago. We were to do a writers retreat staying at the Disneyland Hotel and spend three days writing, eating fried cheese sticks, and riding the rides that make our inner children happy. Los Angeles is already embarrassing, why not be an adult Disney person. The first day was overcast and rainy. Everyone working there had a sort of panic in their eyes. “No child should know that bad weather can happen at Disney!!” Our room had a great view of the park and every couple hours a shit smell would waft in from the vent from the room above us like a trusted Walt Disney ghost saying “Well, hello there. Enjoy your stay! I hate a lot of different types of people.”

  It was the coldest day there I have ever experienced and the parents looked angrily damp and cute in matching rain ponchos.  I love when fathers look like their sons took a giant pill to make them grow. Hair, face, shorts, socks, wide eyed gaze- everything is the same, but big. The scale of Disney is different when everything is saturated. You start to notice a lot of trash cans, construction, and unhealthily chubby ducks that live off of the crumbs from your bread bowl. We were excited to live in rainy Disney, there was a magic to it like no one wanted to go on Splash Mountain so the line was 5 minutes long. We pondered “Wow, I wonder if I’ve ridden this exact log before.” That’s what happens when you go pretty regularly, your life becomes chapters between Disney visits.  Afterwards, our teeth chattered from being drenched by the splash mountain water and the mood was a bit shaken up, cold Disney felt eerie. The sky was white and we ate a lobster roll and chowder by the lake for warmth. It was a little like we weren’t there at all just still in shock from our decision to book this trip.  Everything was muted and Pirates of The Caribbean was being refurbished. I wonder if they will take out Johnny Depp or not. Still the lifeless quality to the day seemed distorted. Where was the magic? Families seemed to be hustling through a mall looking for last minute dress shoes.

We discovered everything is done through an app now. It’s called the genie app which a lot of people are shitting on all over the internet, every corner of it really. There’s no physical fast passes to retrieve, you book through an app and make dinner reservations through it as well. Everyone hates the app. It over charges you and glitches and shows you different “experiences” like Goofy swimming with your children. It’s nothing that you’d actually want. The app was proving to be a hassle and peoples faces in their phones felt a little sad. No communal board to look at and assess together as townspeople. No tips, and tricks exchanged between folks. No. We’re all on our own now.

In line for space mountain, when I was 16, I listened to an Uncle (45)  and his niece, who was around my age, talk behind me. It was around 8 pm. Everyone in line was exhausted. We had waited at least 45 minutes, but we’re getting close:

Uncle: So, do you know why your mom thought we should spend some time together?

Niece: ( she shrugs, disinterested at this Uncle and his long khaki shorts) I don’t know.

Uncle: She says you’ve been questioning the Lord.

Niece: I don’t want to talk about this. ( She said with the confidence of a woman who owns every part of herself.)

Uncle: Well, I just treated you to a nice day. I think I have every right-

Niece: She can talk to me about it herself.

Uncle: You don't listen to her. That is your problem!

Niece: Please, stop. I don’t want to talk about this.

Uncle: You are ungrateful! You need Jesus! You haven’t been going to Church. You’ve been saying crazy things!! She is worried. We are all worried for you! You need to accept Jesus!!

Niece:  I’m not talking about this now.

Uncle: FINE! I’ll be at the car!

The Uncle shouts at her and leaves. She is embarrassed and silent. The Uncle walks away after waiting in line for so long, how could he do that? For Jesus? Where was the anger from that he was projecting. It was so loud and misplaced. This poor teen was a target for his seemingly unpredictable rage. I mean who has that energy after a day at the park? This man needed to accept Disney into his heart. My sister and I  asked her if she wanted to ride with in our car with us. She says yes and apologizes for him. We are 13 and 16 and tell her he’s crazy. She knows.

Our hearts race as we ride the yarn ball of Space Mountain in darkness. Freedom and glee. We look at the photo of our faces on the ride afterwards- our mouths frozen open and eyes shut tight. Pure joy. I think about this girl a lot.

Back to 2022, with my friend Charles. We both have separate panic attacks from the sugary cocktails we’re consuming. Charle’s happens when I leave the  tiki bar to get my ID out of my fanny pack in the room.  Mine was while we were getting Martini’s in California Adventure as the waiter gave us a lengthy history on how Walt climbed out of debt with this hit, Snow White. He added that it was important for him to mention Snow White given that it is Women’s History Month. He gives me a knowing nod. Immediately, my head goes up in flames and I feel the world is completely fake. I excuse myself and walk to the bathroom and do jumping jacks and feel better.

We find a place to write the second day. It’s a lounge, where the shit smell was wafting in from from the bathroom. The lounge was mostly quiet until a man started scream laughing at a Steve Harvey hosted game show. We laser focused and finished the writing we set out to do with more vigor and speed than we ever have had over zoom. Charles noted all the closeted fathers that completely passed by me, but who he had shared some loaded glance with. A woman in her 60s, kept replacing our snack plates, anxious to not have any empty plates out. “Did you enjoy it?” she asked sweetly, multiple times about the cheese and crackers. Her hands shook a little bit as she cleared our table and my heart hurt from her kindness.

The last day we hit up some classics: Haunted Mansion, Indiana Jones, and then the new Star Wars ride where they treat you like crap cause you landed on the Death Star. I loved it. It’s immersive and you can feel all the dads cumming in their jeans.

We left completely drained and reset at the same time. Our bodies hurting and our eyes thankful to not have hoards of people marching towards us with mickey ears on. A childhood dream with a moaning horror show of corporatocracy wafting in like the shit in the vents.