Some folks just love Disneyland.
These are the people who make quarterly trips to the Magical Kingdom utilizing their yearly passes, even though they live in let's say, the Bay Area. They meticulously map out the best route of WHEN and HOW they will ride Indiana Jones, and then swiftly move onto The Haunted Mansion, without waiting in a line. These Disney aficionados know parade times, have fast passes, and know EXACTLY what you are talking about if you refer to "Pixie Hollow".
You may find them sporting their Micky Mouse ears, while they are buying garden tools at OSH. These enthusiastic folks hold one belief steadfast, and that is this: Disneyland is THE most fantastic time you will EVER fucking have in your life. And if you, my friend, haven't consumed the Magical Kingdom Kool-Aid yet, why are you taking up space on the planet?
I fought Disneyland for a long time. Clearly, there are plenty of Cons:
1. THE COST - be ready to hand over your first born, because the nice, polite Disneyland ticket takers, will happily barter with you, and put them in some sort of costume for a parade.
2. THE DRIVE - OMG, I can barely handle making a trip to Costco with my kids in the car, let alone a 7 hour car ride, where the traffic conditions through LA, are anyone's best guess.
3. THE MELTDOWN - it is not IF it's going to happen, it's when. And after the cost, and the drive, well, I was convinced I just would not handle the inevitable meltdown very well.
But then I remembered they sell wine in California Adventure, and I started to rally.
As we began our journey down south, I decided that Wheat Thins and Cheezits would suffice for dinner for two nights, but that our 3rd night would probably require us to actually sit down at a table. I called Disneyland Dining Reservations.
Me: "Hi there, I am interested in making a dining reservation at Ariel's Grotto for seven."
Nice Disney Phone Lady: "I would more than happy to assist you with that. I'll put you right through to Ariel's Grotto. (pause for effect) Have a magical day."
ME: "Excuse me?!" In all honesty, I had not heard the last comment. Pause, for effect, yet once again, for the hearing impaired.
Nice Disney Phone Lady: "Have a magical day."
And with that, I knew there was no turning back. In fact, upon entering Main Street, what do you think we saw? All the characters spaciously spread out for photo opp's...I'm talking Mickey, Minnie, Donald, Goofy, AND Pluto, all in one location. As soon as Pluto wrapped his paws around Charlotte, all of my initial Disney resentment totally disappeared. I had done drunk the Kool Aid.
At one point, we got caught up in a parade that was, well, plainly put: magical. Tom hoisted Charlie up on his shoulders, so she could have a clear view of any Princess making an appearance. And I was right there next to my 2 year old, screaming, "LOOK CHARLIE!!! LOOK!!! There's Ariel! Hi ARIEL!!!" as I frantically waved not one, but both, of my arms to get her attention.
I totally transformed into being a little girl. I guess that's what happens, after you pay the same amount of money that could have transported you to Europe for an extended vacation.
We spent the entire day in Disneyland. And by the time we moseyed over to California Adventure, it was dark. As Cozy and I were about to board the roller coaster, California Screaming, she started to express anxiety. I couldn't blame her: this ride was fast, loud, and it was night time. I assured her that I would keep her safe.
Nothing could be further from the truth. As that ride flung us into the atmosphere, I screamed my head off, and forgot that I was supposed to be coddling my 8 year old. It was a "save yourself" scenario, for sure. But you'll be proud of me when I say I did remember that I was a Mom...when the ride stopped. By that time, Cozy was enthralled, "Let's do it again Mama!!!"
After taking in Fantasmik (a show in Disneyland where Mickey totally kicks A**, and the water is set on FIRE, yes FIRE), Tom was ready to pack it up for the night.
I'm like, no way Mister. We paid a lot of money, and we are going to shut this Mother down. Poor Tom.
Borderline child abuse resembles saying things to your 2 year old, like, "Buck up, Charlotte. There's no line for Dumbo. It's now or never!! All the other responsible parents have their kids in bed. This park is mine! MINE!!"
And that, explains, why we were the last family escorted off of "It's a Small World" at Midnight.
Disneyland is magical. It is. But if you see me, trolling around, sporting Mickey Ears while I'm standing in the Safeway check out line, please set me straight.
