Magic and Memories
It had been about 17 years since my last visit to Disneyland and at least 20 since I worked my last shift at the park. And so I was certain that the years had beaten the Disney vitality out of me. Moreover, I had seen more than my fair share of emptiness and loss over the past 18 months. Though I had been looking forward to bringing my children to Disneyland for years, I expected that we would simply enjoy a day at the park, nothing more.
I never should have discounted the magic.
The moment we started walking down Main Street the memories of my youth came flooding back: pranks pulled on cast-member friends, games played with (sometimes adorable and sometimes annoying) park guests, teenage romances with ride operators and parking lot attendants. My heart lightened and I grew younger with each step. My six-year-old twins could hardly keep up.
My sons and I spent the morning in Tomorrowland, giving rides like Buzz Lightyear’s Astro Blaster, Star Tours, and the new-and-improved Autopia a whirl. Noah took special delight at helping Buzz fight the evil Zurg, and Ben memorized nearly every joke that flashed on the LCD screen at Autopia. We were all especially fond of the one about the car crossing the road to give the chicken a break. It was just the kind of joke, I thought, that could have been written or told by any of the characters who kept us in stitches back stage in between sets. I found myself searching crowds and attraction lines for their faces, craving the witty, sarcastic, Monty Python-esque humor and familiar voices from long ago.
Though there were those instances when my memories intruded on our fun, the day most assuredly belonged to the boys. They dragged me from Tomorrowland to Critter Country for a glimpse of Ben’s hero, Tigger, through New Orleans Square for a tour of the Haunted Mansion, and over to the Fantasy Princess Faire via Thunder Ranch Pass (where I couldn’t help but laugh at the “West Ward Ho” refreshment kiosk, knowing full well that somewhere backstage the cast members were wondering who that days’ West Ward Ho’ would be!) But it was at the Fantasy Princess Faire where the days’ best memories were made.
By the time we reached the Princess Faire Theatre my feet were weary and the boys were ready for a break. I wasn’t certain that a princess locale was really the best place for us to rest, though I needn’t have worried. Ben took to the venue like a fish in water (because, let’s face it, Ben is going to be a princess when he grows up!) and even Noah’s attention was occupied by the plastic rocks and scenery that became the perfect fodder for climbing, sliding, and jumping.
The boys were so busy that they hadn’t noticed Prince Phillip approach. But soon they were all engaged in a conversation and royal game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. During the entertainment prior to the start of the Royal Coronation Training Show, the pageant helpers indulged Ben by letting him lead a game of “Ben Says” (“Ben says ‘have a sword fight!’ “Ben says “lift weights!’) and finally after the show, we were treated to a private meeting with Cinderella. My sons were in awe and still have no idea how very lucky they were to have been singled out for those privileges. As for me, it mattered less whether the events were orchestrated by an old friend or by pure circumstance: that single hour showed my sons more magic and splendor than I could have shown them in a lifetime of visits.
Though the boys quickly grew tired of the long lines, they were mesmerized by the magical performances: an exciting parade replete with characters on arched stilts and performing bungee-cord acrobatics (and a float that broke down just inches before the route ended!); a spectacular lights show on the Rivers of America that combined water screens with real parade “floats” and live character action (and holy-mother-of-all-that-is-good-did-you-see-how-high-and-how-quickly-Ursula-was-raised-during-that-pyrotechnic-stunt???); and a fireworks show that finally made full use of Tinkerbell’s talents all the while celebrating the music of, uh, Disneyland park attractions. (Okay guys, seriously, countless movie and television show soundtracks to work with, and you’re going with the music from theme park attractions? Really???)
Still the performances were magnificent. Though I could imagine how over the top the ideas might have seemed during a WDI brainstorming session, I was reminded of the Disney Way that makes everything possible. Every move and minute was perfectly executed, every action precisely and spectacularly planned. It made me proud to have once been a part of that vision, and for an instant I longed for the days when my friends and I danced anonymously down the center of Main Street U.S A.
We made it back to the car at 11 p.m. and we were home about 30 minutes later. As I tucked my beautiful boys into bed for the night, Noah looked up at me and said sleepily, “Mom, today was the best day ever.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
I never should have discounted the magic.
The moment we started walking down Main Street the memories of my youth came flooding back: pranks pulled on cast-member friends, games played with (sometimes adorable and sometimes annoying) park guests, teenage romances with ride operators and parking lot attendants. My heart lightened and I grew younger with each step. My six-year-old twins could hardly keep up.
My sons and I spent the morning in Tomorrowland, giving rides like Buzz Lightyear’s Astro Blaster, Star Tours, and the new-and-improved Autopia a whirl. Noah took special delight at helping Buzz fight the evil Zurg, and Ben memorized nearly every joke that flashed on the LCD screen at Autopia. We were all especially fond of the one about the car crossing the road to give the chicken a break. It was just the kind of joke, I thought, that could have been written or told by any of the characters who kept us in stitches back stage in between sets. I found myself searching crowds and attraction lines for their faces, craving the witty, sarcastic, Monty Python-esque humor and familiar voices from long ago.
Though there were those instances when my memories intruded on our fun, the day most assuredly belonged to the boys. They dragged me from Tomorrowland to Critter Country for a glimpse of Ben’s hero, Tigger, through New Orleans Square for a tour of the Haunted Mansion, and over to the Fantasy Princess Faire via Thunder Ranch Pass (where I couldn’t help but laugh at the “West Ward Ho” refreshment kiosk, knowing full well that somewhere backstage the cast members were wondering who that days’ West Ward Ho’ would be!) But it was at the Fantasy Princess Faire where the days’ best memories were made.
By the time we reached the Princess Faire Theatre my feet were weary and the boys were ready for a break. I wasn’t certain that a princess locale was really the best place for us to rest, though I needn’t have worried. Ben took to the venue like a fish in water (because, let’s face it, Ben is going to be a princess when he grows up!) and even Noah’s attention was occupied by the plastic rocks and scenery that became the perfect fodder for climbing, sliding, and jumping.
The boys were so busy that they hadn’t noticed Prince Phillip approach. But soon they were all engaged in a conversation and royal game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. During the entertainment prior to the start of the Royal Coronation Training Show, the pageant helpers indulged Ben by letting him lead a game of “Ben Says” (“Ben says ‘have a sword fight!’ “Ben says “lift weights!’) and finally after the show, we were treated to a private meeting with Cinderella. My sons were in awe and still have no idea how very lucky they were to have been singled out for those privileges. As for me, it mattered less whether the events were orchestrated by an old friend or by pure circumstance: that single hour showed my sons more magic and splendor than I could have shown them in a lifetime of visits.
Though the boys quickly grew tired of the long lines, they were mesmerized by the magical performances: an exciting parade replete with characters on arched stilts and performing bungee-cord acrobatics (and a float that broke down just inches before the route ended!); a spectacular lights show on the Rivers of America that combined water screens with real parade “floats” and live character action (and holy-mother-of-all-that-is-good-did-you-see-how-high-and-how-quickly-Ursula-was-raised-during-that-pyrotechnic-stunt???); and a fireworks show that finally made full use of Tinkerbell’s talents all the while celebrating the music of, uh, Disneyland park attractions. (Okay guys, seriously, countless movie and television show soundtracks to work with, and you’re going with the music from theme park attractions? Really???)
Still the performances were magnificent. Though I could imagine how over the top the ideas might have seemed during a WDI brainstorming session, I was reminded of the Disney Way that makes everything possible. Every move and minute was perfectly executed, every action precisely and spectacularly planned. It made me proud to have once been a part of that vision, and for an instant I longed for the days when my friends and I danced anonymously down the center of Main Street U.S A.
We made it back to the car at 11 p.m. and we were home about 30 minutes later. As I tucked my beautiful boys into bed for the night, Noah looked up at me and said sleepily, “Mom, today was the best day ever.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
posted by Lion's Cub | 7:17 PM
1 Comments:
Wow! Such perspective this puts into place! Whatever bitterness I may have mixed in with the sweet memories of our time at the park doesn't matter. It's now a new generation's turn to experience and fall in love with the magic!
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