I've been meaning to write about our trip to Disneyland for days and days...actually, ever since we went there. I started to write about the experience, journal style, but felt it was just too vanilla and wasn't carrying the weight I wanted.
The trip was fantastic. My lovely mother in law treated Sherida, Haley, Sammy, and I to 2 nights and 2 days at the Disneyland theme parks for Haley's 4th birthday back in September. We drove down on a Thursday night, which was a surprisingly easy drive, and were able to hit up Disneyland on a Friday. We had a real nice suite at the Annabella hotel, which was walking distance to 'THPOE' (The Happiest Place on Earth).
Friday was Haley's 4th birthday and she was just about ready to shatter with excitement. Haley was nearly shattering with excitement. I hate to say this but I was 'sweaty palm' nervous in the morning thinking it was going to be just a hellish day. I was worried that we were going to have multiple meltdowns with both Sam and Haley. I envisioned poop explosions and new Bathrooms of the World stories. But the day went incredibly smooth. It was so much fun watching Haley, and reliving the old memories, and drinking frozen lemonades. Needless to say they were times I will cherish forever.
But who cares right?
Now, being that we had Sam, who couldn't go on many rides (we did take him on Pirates of the Caribbean and on the initial drops down the ride Sam screamed bloody murder seeing his short life flash before his eyes. And it wasn't like a continuous cry/scream, it was just one sharp, piercing, 1-yr-old-thinking-its-over shuddering-gut-wrench. It was hard for him to process what was going on, so...we decided to go on it again because there was no line. We had to...no line, right?)
As the day progressed, I realized how lucky we were. There were so many fat people. THPOE showcases a great cross-section of America and America's collective weight problem hits you right in the face at Disneyland. I know that I'm on the huskier side of things, and I know plenty of people that carry a little extra lovin', but I'm talking about a straight up obesity parade. I've never, NEVER, seen such a dense collection of Rascals and Larks. Ridiculous - to the true meaning of the word - these people are (and should be) the frequent subject of ridicule. If you don't know what I'm talking about click here. And these people, who weren't disabled but stricken with chronic laziness, were rude on top of it all. I was sharing a nice moment waiting in line with Haley and I here this, "Excuse me. Excuse me, EXCUSE ME!" and it was a freakin Rascal rider trying to cut in line. Thinking quickly, I unwrapped the butterfinger in my pocket, waved it in her face then threw it about 30 yards away into a small bush at the base of a Palm Tree. The woman looked at me like I was crazy, but then yelled at her sister to grab it before the pigeons do...but she was too late. The pigeons had torn it to pieces leaving only shards of yellow and brown. I laughed and laughed.
As she drove away the back of her shirt said "I do not tolerate stupid people". The irony was blatant.
The Happiest Place on Earth is also the Meltdown Capitol of the World. Everywhere we went there was a kid having a stage 5 meltdown. I guess its just too much for many little minds to handle. All the hype, all the sugar, the Its a Small World ride, fake Disney Characters...its a lot to bite off for a child. It made me very proud of my kids to say the least.
We get back to the Annabella Hotel after a tremendous day; no casualties, no meltdowns, no poop explosions, no Bathrooms of the World #391. After a dip in the pool, my Mom-in-law talks Sherida and I into going back to THPOE to have some fun, just mom and dad. We were beat but thought we'd make the best of it. There was going to be a fireworks show, Sherida was craving some ice cream and I was determined to find beer.
We made our way back in on a Friday night, and the crowd going down main street towards the Castle was packed in like a fatty in a Rascal. Ridiculous. The street was roped off for crowd control. In fact, it felt like all of Disneyland was roped off. Apparently the crowds get pretty crazy during the fireworks...I can't Imagine how they'd coral all the meltdowns and runaway Rascals without ropes. What happened next was probably one of the most interesting things that has ever happened to me or Sherida. Looking back its absolutely hilarious, but at the time, Sherida and I were literally afraid and tortured. THPOE changed into a place of abject terror.
Sherida was extremely excited to get an ice cream at the parlor on main street, so when we saw that the line was 89 people long, it crushed her little heart. "We could wait," I said, but we agreed that we'd miss the fireworks. And the way everyone was packing it in, we figured this had to be one hell of a show. So we postponed the ice cream and I offered that maybe there'd be some in the 'French Quarter'. Truth be told, I felt the French Quarter in THPOE was our best chance at scoring real beer. 2 birds with one stone, right?
Wrong.
As we followed the heard of people slowly trudging through the roped off, designated transit areas, I literally felt like I was in a herd of cattle and naturally began to moo. Sherida elbowed me so I stopped. Sherida was now beginning to get edgy. We were packed in a slowly moving, 15-person-wide line heading towards the French Quarter in hopes that we'd find ice cream, beer and a place to enjoy that ice cream and beer. It was like a post apocalyptic movie where everyone has to be dog-tagged and wait in incredibly long lines for nothing. Somehow the human tide took us to the Jungle Cruise and the Indiana Jones ride. I don't know how we got there but I know that if we wanted to go anywhere else it would have been instant peril. As we mulled along like prisoners of war, something caught my eye. It was a small alleyway heading towards the French Quarter.
I grabbed Sherida's arm, looked her dead in the eyes and screamed, "WE HAVE TO GO NOW!" She looked at me, confused. I yelled again, "IT'S OUR ONLY CHANCE! IF WE DON'T GO NOW I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO US!" With a reaffirming nod, as if she was saying, its time, we bolted right. Dodging families and fat people, we hit the alley with a speed that rivaled the fastest motorized wheelchair. Sherida glanced at me for a moment, cracking a small smile. I felt exhilarated. Only to turn the corner into the French Quarter and feel my heart sink to the bottom of my soul.
Rope. A swarming sea of people. No beer. No ice cream. No sanity for poor Sher-Sher.
The crowd was overwhelming. "Which way do we go?" "I have no idea."
In the French Quarter, we shimmied into the crowd flow that was heading towards the waterway surrounding Tom Sawyer's Island. (Its called something else now but that's like calling Candlestick 'Monster Stadium'.) As we approached the water with hopes of intersecting a crowd river heading towards the Matterhorn, every light dimmed and music began to play. Loud music that you'd hear in the opening of an old Disney VHS. All of the sudden a spotlight gleamed on the tip of Tom Sawyers Island and the crowd began to murmur in anticipation. Sherida and I stopped and squeezed to the side of the walkway, only to be yelled at by Disney security, that literally came out of nowhere, to tell to keep moving. Sherida called him a dirty pig and we moved on.
At that moment, Mickey mouse ascended to the end of Tom Sawyer's Island and began to dance to an elaborate light show. The crowd went wild. All I could think about, besides beer, was that there was a person inside the Mickey suit who lives for this moment. You could just tell by the vibrancy he was dancing. Hitting air punches with pin-point accuracy, waving at the crowd with a fervor that only a true devout Mickey Mouse weirdo would express. It was frightening.
We slowly flowed with the crowd towards the Matterhorn and felt glad to be heading in the right direction. 20 minutes later we were 100 ft further down the line and the Mickey Mouse show was still going on. STILL GOING ON??? Jeeeeeeeesus Christ!
By this time Sherida's fit to kick a kitten. Just steaming. It appeared that we were going the right way and all would be well. But no. We hit a fork in the road and the direction we were supposed to go was chalk full of people heading towards the Mickey show in the opposite direction. We began to go the wrong way, towards the far end of the park past Frontier Land, away from the exit.
NO!!!
At this point Sherida is having a full-blown panic attack and I was poised to hold her back from eating someone's face. Bordering on tears, Sherida glares at me. Don't blame me! I'm thinking...I had no idea. The crowd began to dissipate as we traveled further from Mickey. We enter a little Bavarian Restaurant and try to order beer but they just closed. Sherida and I go into the bathroom where we "Mark Piper" the paper towel dispensers. Feeling a little relief we decide to brave it back towards main street to see the fireworks. We strafe to the outside of the Matterhorn in a strategical move that would later prove costly.
As we maneuver past the submarine ride and head through Tomorrow Land, we find ourselves swallowed by yet another human cattle drive. At this point we've lost all hope, and the will to live, which really did help with Sherida's panic. When you've lost all hope, what is there to panic for, really?
Like mindless drones, we were driven towards main street. As we reached the plaza in front of the castle the fireworks started. Serendipitous as it may seem, we couldn't have cared any less. Even if we wanted to stop, there was no place to go and the security force would've surely popped out of nowhere to yell at us nicely, with a smile. At that moment I wondered if I'd ever see my kids again. I mean, I didn't really, but that's where my mind was at. I was imagining being captured in some sort of death camp scenario, only to wonder if I'd ever see my children again. A tear fell.
We passed main street and started towards the French Quarter. When I didn't think it would get any worse, my heart hit rock bottom as I realized we had made one giant circle. The horror. And to add salt to the wound, the overtly jolly music from Tom Sawyers Island was blaring, loud as ever, and there was Mickey, that little bitch!
I was fuming at this point but powerless to do anything about it. The fireworks were cracking overheard. They were piss-poor. I yelled at Sherida "What a piece of shit Firework show right!?!?" A family in front of us gave me a dirty look and corralled their kids away. Oh right, like I'm the bad guy. How dare you subject your children to this, you're a terrible parent. These are the thoughts the Happiest Place on Earth evokes.
As we past the French Quarter I blacked out. I have no idea what happened. The next memory I have is being in front of the Indiana Jones ride and feeling thankful that I still was alive, and still had my wits about me. Numb, pale, and needing alcohol, I looked at Sherida and told her that we need to keep moving before we end up revisiting the Bataan Death March. Believe me, I was dreadfully worried it would happen again.
Bravely, we hopped into the human stream heading back to main street. I mooed the whole way there. Sherida didn't utter a peep. Making it back to the ice cream parlor, we mindlessly get in line. I don't think we said one word to each other the entire 50 minutes waiting. We just felt great that we regained the control of our own destinies. Once we got our ice cream, Sherida felt much better and we caught the first human river out of there. When we broke through the exit gate I felt like I could finally breathe again. Sherida was feeling much better after eating ice cream, and we meandered back to the hotel. I was happy to lay down to say the least.
All in all it was a fantastic trip. Great times with the family. But getting involved in the horrendous crowd control during the Disneyland Fireworks show at high season was something that changed me as a person. It was a traumatic experience that could've ended us, but now we're stronger for enduring the nightmare.
