A Disney End

Day 9 

Just a few steps into Disneyland a humbling realization overcame AJ’s cool attitude toward the amusement parks: Disney loved story. Disney had been “bringing the story to life” all around her in California Adventure the day before, but she was too busy trying to ‘get fun’ and adjust her overloaded senses to pay attention to it. AJ loved stories too, the older the better. However reluctant she was to side with the thrill-hocking media giant, she could not deny that Disney was brilliant with stories. 

Once in Disneyland, after passing under Cinderella’s diminutive castle, the first story the family experienced was Peter Pan. J. M. Barrie created Peter Pan in 1902, as a character in the novel The Little White Bird. Two years later, he wrote him into a stage play called Peter Pan, or The Little Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up. The ride at Disneyland pulled the family in small cars over tracks through darkened spaces flanked by dioramas depicting scenes from the 1953 Disney movie, Peter Pan. 

Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride was next. AJ sat with TwoSon in a small car that rode on tracks through darkened spaces with scenes adapted from Mr. Toad’s character in Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows.

AJ’s mind and mood had to switch gears with every story through which she rode. Star Tours put her on a space transport a long, long time ago in a galaxy far away. In Buzz Lightyear Astro Blasters, she was in a moving, talking-toy infested carnival game. Then she was a cruise patron sailing down the Amazon, witness to poachers and wild animal antics on The Jungle Cruise ride. In the Enchanted Tiki Room, she enjoyed a cool place to sit and rest while birds of all kinds literally sang songs.  AJ was plunged into a wild drive through the darkened tunnels of an archeological dig, trying to get away from hostile thieves in Indiana Jones Adventure. Then bobsledding. 

Mickey's Clothes Washer

After being bumped and bruised by the Matterhorn Bobsleds, AJ realized she was getting old or sick, because the more thrilling rides hurt more than delighted or thrilled. 

Every ride or attraction presented the park guest with a fiction story: nothing was real. The rapidity of the story presentation was sometimes jarring and disappointing to AJ, who loved the slow portioning of detail and minutiae found in the tomes of Dickens and Tolstoy. 

The cartoon-come-to-life village of Mickey’s Toon Town tickled her fancy. The buildings and  homes were built as they appeared in cartoons. She walked through Mickey’s house, Minnie’s house and Donald’s boat with child-like wonder. 

“it’s a small world” had no jarring jerking bumping aspects, but was a gentle boat ride through a white and gold castle full of doll-puppets singing “It’s a Small World” ad infinitum. 

“That was creepy,” TwoSon said as their little boat came out into the sun at the end of the ride. Chanting dolls protesting cheerily for shrinking the size of the world: yes, that is a little creepy. 

The family had lunch at a restaurant that was modeled after a hoe-down barbeque: all-you-can-eat ribs and chicken with live music and singing. 

“I heard a quote by someone saying that dinner music was a nuisance,” AJ said as they settled at their picnic table covered in red and white gingham.  “I think it was Orson Wells or H.G. Wells or  …” her words were drown out with country music. There was a man playing the fiddle and a woman playing the guitar and singing on the stage nearby. “In some aspects, I agree. Not to be mean, but you can’t really talk, the music is so loud. It’s hard to have a normal conversation,” she said. A few minutes later, the singer and player left the stage.  

“Well, now it’s quiet,” B said, in offense against her position, “talk about something.” 

Silence.

“Well, talk.”

“It doesn’t work like that, she said laughing. It has to be organic … like this.” 

After a slow trudging walk through Innovations, a showcase of past and future technology, the family split up. AJ, OneSon and TwoSon went back to the hotel, and rested for a few hours while B and Tripod shot more pictures (“It’s only a few blocks from Disney … we can walk there!” B said when they first arrived.”) 

Once at the hotel, AJ crashed. Sometimes one doesn’t know how tired one really is until a chair is presented. She sat by the hotel pool, watching TwoSon splash and play, while OneSon stayed in the hotel watching American Pickers. 

Once back in the park, they waded through crowds waiting to see fireworks and met up with B. They were whizzed through the air on Big Thunder Mountain Railroad roller coaster as fireworks sparkled in the sky overhead. On one of the thrilling turns and twists of the ride, B lost his hat. 

Time in the park was running down, concession stands were closing, a few employees had brooms and dustpans out, getting a head start on the nightly clean-up. The family hurried through a sea of people toward the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, but were delayed by a rope across their path. This was where the thrill-seeking raging rivers of humanity became a stagnant stinking pool. 

Two Disney cast members (employees) stood in front of the blockade, explaining the delay. It was “to give the people down the way time to clear out from the fireworks show.” Traffic control. An older Asian man attempted to make our wait more pleasant by asking some tidbit-based trivia question. It was a classic Disney tactic, an effort to help make the many “waits”  in the park less unpleasant. A boorish young man intent on getting instant gratification cupped his hands to his mouth and yells, “Who cares?” in response to a friendly factoid put forth from the Disney cast member. 

Snickers from a nearby couple (childless, of course). A few childish adults joined in the heckle-fest. The young brute, spurred on by his verbal supporters yelled, “Let us through, you (racist epithet)!” 

AJ who was standing next to him looked over and said, “Whoa!” 

The father of the boorish mini-brute stared down at the boy with an iron glare. “What did you say?” he growled. 

“Is this what we want to teach out kids?” a woman’s voice of reason and patience asked, but she was drowned out by complaints and anonymous verbal hostilities. 

“I have pitchforks and lit torches for sale,” AJ mumbled, alluding to the strange, lynch-mob like mentality that the Happiest-Place-on-Earth visitors suddenly displayed. 

AJ’s experience soured at the sudden turn in attitude of the crowd. It felt as if she were in the most impatient and kinda mean oasis on earth, inside the happiest place on earth at the moment. Disney's panoply of stories took a dark turn from happy, thrilling fantasy to grungy realism. 

At Disney, customer desire wins, and before a verbal rude vs. patient conflagration could get going, the rope was lifted and Boorish boy and father ran off, with Boorish boys’ mom far behind, no doubt. 

Go, go, go, get there first, get the most, get more than anyone else, be the winner: it polluted every human being in some disguise or another. It is the competitive ‘survival of the fittest’ seed, deep down in our broken humanity. It was especially ugly  when the stakes were so shallow. 

AJ was disgusted by Boorish Boy’s attitude and disrespect, but she also knew that the same flaw was in her. She might rarely speak or act on it, and never in reference to Disney rides and jollies, but she knew it was there.

Day 10 The Last day

They were supposed to sleep late, but AJ couldn’t seem to make her body rest. At six in the morning she stared at the ceiling thinking about the most important event of the day: getting to the airport on time. Untimely scenarios ran through her mind, flowing forth as a small underground stream of anxiety that ran underneath every hour of that morning. Home awaited her at the end of the day, but between her and MI was :

Two hours in the Downtown Disney shopping area with breakfast and Lego and small gift shop purchases.

A walk back to the hotel.

An expensive cab ride to the airport, while towing one huge suitcase, two regular sized ones, and various bags.

A three and a half hour long plane ride. 

The uncomfortable airplane ride went by quickly while AJ relived the vacation by adding to and editing her notes from the previous days. There was no time for pensive sweeps of the airplane cabin, people watching, audio books or analyzing advertising messages, she had to fill in the spaces in her notes, in ink, on paper before they faded in her mind. 

The family arrived at and left Chicago airport, were Uber-ed back to their car, made a short stop at TacoBell/KFC on the highway, then arrived home, and stayed there. They greeted their bleary eye-ed fur family (the cats had been sleeping when they arrived at home), and dropped wearily and happily into familiarity. 

Another adventure of a much sobering and different kind loomed in the family’s near future: school started in two days.

This concludes the Not I series Travels with a Family in the Sierra Nevadas. Thank you for reading.