Disney Whirled: Hightlights of a Nine-Day Adventure into Magicalness, PART 9: "Appendix, Volume 2"

So, what has the Hungry Preacher himself been reflecting on vis-a-vis his family's Disney World experience?  After going back and forth on what to write about and how to write it, I settled on what I think was the clearest choice all along: I staged an interview between Rob, the ordinary family man; and his alter ego, the Hungry Preacher, blogger extraordinaire.  I decided to have the Hungry Preacher ask the questions, and he decided that distinguishing his words from Rob's would be best accomplished by the use of italics.

So, it’s been several months since you got back from Disney.  What is the most striking memory of the experience?

Certainly the memories shared with my family.  The things we saw and did, and watching the girls take in the experience.  These are the things that I most fondly remember.  These are the reasons people take vacations in the first place.

Anything else?

I’m still struck by the park itself.  When I think about “Disney World,” I really remember it being a “world.”  It’s still weird to think of it as being contained in a state.  I see it as a planet, unencumbered by organizational paradigms of Earth.  It would only surprise me a little if we eventually discover that the entire complex was developed by aliens who are using it as a way to spy on people from all parts of the world.  It would be a good idea, actually—let the peoples of Earth come to you, instead of the other way around.  The flaw in their plan may be that they actually “do amusement parks” way better than Earthlings.  It’s raising suspicions.

That would be ironic if that was their undoing.  Have you shared your ideas with other Earthlings?

Not in so many words.  But I have interacted with people who have done the Disney World thing and seem to “get it” when I talk about how impressive it is.

Is it something you have to have experienced to really get?

Something like that.  I’ve heard that Corvette owners have some sort of signal or look that they give each other when they pass on the street, something that communicates, “I know that you 'get this', and you know that I 'get this', and we both know that other people don’t.  So let’s share a moment of superficial bonding.”  Surfing might be like that, too.

Are you saying that based on the movie "Point Break"?

Yes.  It's the only movie I know that features both Keanu Reeves and Gary Busey.  That must count for something.
 
Fair point.

Anyway, I've been surprised to feel this "bond" with fellow veterans of the Disney World experience.

Is there any meaningful significance whatsoever to this bond?

Objectively, I don’t feel like there should be.  I mean, it’s an amusement park, right?  But subjectively, the connection seems real, whatever that means.  I feel shallow ascribing very much significance to that it, though.

There, there.  You’re among friends.  There’s no judgment here.

Thanks.

So is there?

Is there what?

Meaningful significance to the “Disney Bond”?

Let’s say “yes”.  At least insofar as people’s desire to bond about something like an amusement park—even an awesome amusement park—demonstrates a deep rooted longing to make connections of any kind.

It sounds like the "Disney Bond" is subjectively significant to you, but that you’re trying to place your own appreciation of the bond on a higher cerebral plain by pointing out that the bond is compelling to you primarily as a sociological and anthropological illustration.  It’s like you’re saying you’re wrapped up in it, but your “wrapped up-ness” is intellectually defensible.

I might be saying that.  It sounds pretty arrogant when you put it like that, though.

Isn’t it OK just to be wowed by something, even if that “something” is a corporation unapologetically trying to wow you so you give them more money?

I guess so.  Can I at least keep thinking of it as “the place where the talking mouse lives” instead of as “a corporation”?

If that helps maintain your self-image as a thoughtful person.

Talk about irony!  (LAUGHS)

Since I mentioned the goal of the corp- uh, “talking mouse” being to draw more money out of you, let me ask you this: Do you think you’ll ever go back?

Hard to say.  There was talk among Beth’s family of taking a trip all together, but that has been postponed for now.  At this exact moment, the girls are still in the window of appreciating things like Princesses and kid-focused rides.  But it seems to me that the next age range—let’s say 10 to 13—might be that range of being too old to really get into the kid stuff, but not quite old enough to appreciate the experience from an adult perspective.  Now, realize that what I just said may be an example of me completely talking out of my butt.  But it seems to make sense, right?

Sure.

So what I’m saying is that if we don’t go back this year, we might be looking at a few years down the line.

When you say “adult perspective,” is that a nice way of saying, “Epcot”?

Maybe.

Let’s shift gears.  Did you have any personal “take aways” from the trip?  I mean, other than good memories, did you learn anything?

I learned that my kids may be more ready to travel than I realized.  They did really well in the car ride.

Any other trips lined up?

Nothing planned yet, but most of the country seems like fair game.  Driving to the west coast might be a little much, but anywhere else could work.

Any other lessons?

Something good for me was that the trip went pretty smoothly.  In the past, it’s kind of been “my thing” that every time we take a trip somewhere, I forget something important—either literally forgetting to bring an item of some sort, or I forget how long it will take me to load up the car, or I forget to put a hold on the mail.  This trip was very smooth.  Of course, there were isolated moments of chaos here or there, but nothing directly tied to poor planning on my part.

Do you think you're the only one who forgets things on trips?

Probably not.  It's hard for me to gauge how common it is, though.  For some people, it might be a once-every-five-trips thing.  Maybe other people forget lots of things every trip.  I reckon that I'm in the top 80% of the population when it comes to "effective trip planning."  See how I phrased that in a positive way?

Yes.  Very smooth.

Regardless of how widespread the tendency is, I find it annoying and I get frustrated with myself. 

So this trip broke a trend for you?

Yes, but I’m not sure that’s a good thing.  I mean, I know that it is NOT a good idea to attach your self-image to how well you plan a trip.  But sometimes it’s hard to ignore the voices.  Like, when we’re visiting Beth’s parents and I have to make an emergency run to buy some toothbrushes for the kids because I left theirs in St. Louis—I start to generalize pretty quickly.

Generalize what?

Bad thoughts about myself.  Some may be accurate, mind you.  Like, I may not be as generally dependable as I like to think I am.  If that is the case, I need to realize it and work on it.  Grow and mature--that sort of thing.  But when I unfairly generalize bad thoughts, or when I let “areas of potential growth” become my defining characteristics, that’s a problem.

So the smoothness of the Disney trip made it so that you didn’t have to be tempted with bad thoughts about yourself?

Yes, but I realize that may be attacking the symptom.  Avoiding the trigger of unproductive negativity is a quick fix.  Conversely, the satisfaction I get from planning a smooth trip only feels substantial.  It fades.

Because it only lasts until the next time you forget toothbrushes?

Exactly.  Or the next time I forget to back up pictures on the computer.

Sounds like there’s a story behind that.

After we got home from Disney, when I was still glowing over the smoothness of the trip and generally feeling pretty good about myself, our hard drive crashed.  The short story is that we almost lost about 5 years worth of pictures that were only stored on the computer--because I didn’t back them up.  I went from a high high to a low low in about 10 minutes.

Did you recover the pictures?

Yes, but that’s kind of an aside.  The contrast in my mood made it apparent to me how fleeting my hope and joy were when they were attached to “what I have done lately.”  It’s like I’m a ship being cast around stormy seas.

The New Testament, right?  The book of James?

Yes.  98% sure of that.  I don’t like saying 99% because it’s a cliché and it makes it sound like I haven’t really thought about it.  But I really am at least 98% about that.  Besides, aren’t you the Hungry Preacher?  Shouldn’t you know this?

I’m also 98% sure.  Any other lasting lessons related to Disney?

Can they be cheesy?

We are talking about where the talking mouse lives, right?

Well put, my friend.  Well put.  OK, if cheesy is allowed, then let me say that a week at Disney World can be a microcosm for life itself.  Or at least what life can be.  There is all sorts of symbolism at Disney, all sorts of talk about “believing in your dreams” and “making things magical.”  Maybe “experiencing Disney World” is a litmus test; if you walk away thinking about how commercial everything is or how expensive or whatever, maybe there’s part of you that’s not really willing to dream, and not willing to make your dream happen.  But if you appreciate the “magic” on any level, maybe your appreciation can propel you to create magic of your own in your “real life.”  Maybe the magic doesn’t so much originate from Disney World.  Maybe Disney World draws out the magic in your heart.

So you’re saying that maybe, for some people, Disney World is like a magic feather.

Ooo, that’s good.  Exactly.  Disney World can’t make you fly, but it can make you recognize that the ability to fly is in you, even after you get back home.  Metaphorically, of course.

What is “flying” a metaphor for?

Living.  Loving.  Creating.  Doing beautiful things.  Believing in something life-giving and bigger than yourself.  That is flying.

That’s scary for some people.

I know.


-THP

Disney Whirled: Hightlights of a Nine-Day Adventure into Magicalness, PART 8: "Appendix, Volume 1"

Two days ago I was having lunch with a friend, and I was wearing my Disney World T-shirt.  The server came to take our orders, then saw my shirt and said, “I used to work there.”  She had done the year-long internship about ten years ago, and was planning to return as a guest within a year with her young son.

Later, she brought out my round plate of nachos, along with two small plates for the sour cream and salsa.  After she left, I arranged the three circles as a Mickey Mouse silhouette.  When she returned to check on us, I said, “Look!”  She panicked for a second, like I had found a fly in my salsa or something like that, but then said, “Ah, hidden Mickey.  Nice.”

It’s like they say: “You can take the Hungry Preacher out of Disney World, but you can’t take the Disney World out of the Hungry Preacher.”  (For the record, the dorkiness probably isn’t going anywhere, either.)

Anyway, a few months have passed since our Disney vacation.  After blogging about our experience in the critically acclaimed series “Disney Whirled: Highlights of a Nine-Day Adventure into Magicalness” (the links are below), I promised I would offer a closing post at some point in the future, in which I would share some more reflective post-Disney thoughts.  If you were hoping for something profound or philosophical—well, that would be a strange thing for you to hope for.  But keep reading—you never know, right?

PART 1: "Preparations"
PART 2: "First Impressions"
PART 3: "Pretend People, Real Autographs"
PART 4: "Mac and Cheese and Legos"
PART 5: "Rides and Attractions, Volume 1"
PART 6: "Rides and Attractions, Volume 2"
PART 7: "Why So Sad?"

As far Hungry Preacher family members go, Beth had the scariest adjustment back into real life.  Our first night back in St. Louis, in our own bed, in our own house, I was sound asleep, probably dreaming about roller coasters and stunt shows.  I was suddenly awakened by an urgent whisper.  “Rob!”  My subconscious realized this was not one of those “it’s OK to wake up slowly” times.  Instantly, I was ready to spring into action.  I just needed to hear what the problem was.  Tornado sirens?  The sound of glass breaking from downstairs?  The smell of smoke?  Will I fight, or will I flee?  I was ready for either, and maybe even both.  I propped myself up sideways, “What?” I whispered back.  Beth was lying perfectly still, then whispered as clearly as she could, “There’s a dog in our room.”

I looked up.  Sure enough.  There he was.  Our dog.  Sitting next to our bed.  In our room.  In our house.  We made eye contact.  It was a nice moment.

Meanwhile, Beth was sorting through this bizarre incongruence.  She sat up, let out a confused and exasperated sigh, then shook her head and said, “Wait—are we back at home?”  Before I could even touch my index finger to my nose in an exaggerated manner, she had flopped her head back to her pillow and was sound asleep.

The next day, wanting to make sure I investigated the situation as thoroughly as possible, I sent this photo and caption to Beth.

"Is this the dog that you saw last night?"

The Monkeys had their own adjustments to make.

Monkey 1 was none too happy about having to go back to school; apparently the “2 weeks at school, 1 week at Disney World” schedule is way too heavy on “school” for her.  But she’s gotten back in the swing of things.

I had wondered if her enjoyment of Disney World stemmed primarily from the fact that Disney World was “not school”, but she seems to have fond memories of Disney World in its own right.  The other day at school, a teacher asked her, “Do you have a place to go when you just need to get away from it all?”  Her answer?  “Disney World.”  There you go.  Why go to “your room,” when you could just go to Disney World, right?

Monkey 1 still loves mac & cheese and Legos.  She has built and re-built her Lego souvenir many times, and has recently graduated to Lego Friends sets.  Friends sets are like regular Lego sets, but they are marketed for girls.  The pieces are mostly pastel colored, and the sets come with fewer guns and lasers than Lego Star Wars sets do.  This transition has been difficult for me.  When I was a kid (“kid” = “suggested maximum age printed on Lego boxes, multiplied by 2.5”), I viewed it as a compromise to play with any Lego sets that were not space-themed.  As I matured and grew to appreciate diversity, my own kids finally warmed me up to playing with Lego City sets.  But I never dreamed that a day would come that I would play with girl Legos.  Thankfully, with the support of family and friends, I am adjusting.  And I have done a commendable job of not forcibly steering Monkey 1 towards the more traditional Lego City or Lego Star Wars sets.

Monkey 2 seems ever-so-slightly less enthralled with princesses than she was when we went to Disney, but she still likes stuff that is generally pretty girly.  In fact, that was the theme of her birthday party in February: being girly.  It’s like being “princess-y”, but without the crowns.  She keeps her Princess autograph book displayed in her room.  It’s a nice keepsake.

Lest you think her interest in Princesses has completely faded, just last week, Monkey 2 created this during her quiet time.

Editor’s note: Monkey 2 had drawn a picture of Sleeping Beauty.  This is NOT that picture.  That picture was on the white board for about a week.  The day The Hungry Preacher went to take a photo of that picture, Monkey 2 had replaced it with another picture.  This is not THAT picture, either, but is yet another picture drawn by Monkey 2, using the same medium.  Thus, this picture will serve as an appropriate stand-in for her now-erased drawing of Sleeping Beauty.

Long live the Princess!

Check back tomorrow, and I will open up a can of first-person-reflections on your eyeballs in what will (almost certainly) be the final entry in the Disney Whirled series.

Until then…

-THP

Disney Whirled: Hightlights of a Nine-Day Adventure into Magicalness, PART 7: "Why So Sad?"

The Disney Whirled series isn't quite over, but after today's post, I am going to hold off on the final post or two.  The final post of this series will be called something like, "Lasting Impressions," and I want to give our clan another month or two to make sure that the impressions I deem "lasting" are, indeed, lasting.  I may slip in one more "on site" post as well, if I am inspired to do so.

This is a fine time to summarize where we've been.  Here is a summary, in convenient link-form.  I'll give you a second to catch up.
PART 1: "Preparations"
PART 2: "First Impressions"
PART 3: "Pretend People, Real Autographs"
PART 4: "Mac and Cheese and Legos"
PART 5: "Rides and Attractions, Volume 1"
PART 6: "Rides and Attractions, Volume 2"

So, we've covered the future and the past.  Here in the present, today I will be writing about those not-quite-Norman-Rockwell moments experienced by the family of the Hungry Preacher during their time in Disney World.  After all, even in the world of magic, the girl sometimes accidentally gets sawed in half, right?

Without further ado, he is photographic evidence of a few times during our trip that the magic wore off.

1.

The Monkeys were mostly just tired at this point.  While Monkey 1 is not quite as unimpressed as McKayla Maroney, there is definitely a vibe of "Oh, a giant Lego version of the Loch Ness Monster that is actually partially submerged in water?  Meh."

2.

I don't remember exactly what the problem was at this point, but judging from the expression of Monkey 2, we can conclude that she was just told that Disney World would be permanently closing, effective immediately, and that all positive memories of the Disney World experience would be wiped from her memory, a la "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind."  Oh, and that movie title was actually a typo: It was supposed to be "No Dogs Go to Heaven."

3.

Not to be outdone, Monkey 1 here was just told that she would not get to play with her new Lego set until we set the world record for most consecutive times riding the "It's a Small World" ride.

The thing I'm NOT sure how to interpret in this picture is my own expression.  At first, I thought maybe I was just oblivious to how miserable my children were.  Then I thought, "No, I know how fried they are, and that half-smile is one of determination NOT to let family morale be dragged down by the grumpiness of an 8-year-old and a 6-year-old."  Then I looked even closer--at my eyes--and am now thinking that I myself was about to snap.

4.

Monkey 2 had found this little branch on the ground and decided that she wanted to keep it as a souvenir.  At first we were like, "That's fine.  No harm in that."  After about ten minutes, we realized that letting her carry around the twig was going to inconvenience everyone in various ways.  So we told her the leaves had to go, but we could take a picture of her holding them in front of the Disney Princess castle so that we could always remember them.  The half-smile means she's only half-happy with this plan (or half-unhappy with it, depending on your outlook on life).

5.

From the "you should have seen her a few minutes before" file, here we have Monkey 1 pleasantly sitting, waiting for the Light Parade to start.  Notice how there is no one else around her?  It's because she was banished.  After lot of whining and antagonizing of her sister, we finally told her to go over and sit on that little wall until she's ready to be with other people again.

6.

This is the only picture of the bunch where the person being asked "Why so sad?" is not in our family.  Random out-of-context expression, or seething disdain for happy little girls?  We'll never know.

7.

I snapped these gems just as we were arriving to Hollywood Studios, which means we had experienced all the stress of getting up and getting ready and getting to our destination for the day, but none of the payoff of actually doing anything fun.  Beth wanted a picture with the girls in front of the Micky Mouse hedge.  Hey, you've got the girls, you've got the Micky hedge--mission accomplished, right?

8.

The classic "Now hug your sister" pose.

9.

The existence of this picture explains its inclusion in this post.  See, Beth asked Monkey 2 if she could hold the camera for a second.  Monkey 2 promptly dropped the camera on the ground.  So the next few seconds were pretty tense, until this test picture turned out just fine.  Big, magical sighs all around.


All things considered, the magical moments far outweighed the "Why so sad?" moments.  But they were all memorable, and I can't think of any that I regret.

Like I said earlier, I'll add a closing post or two for this series in a few weeks.  In the meantime, I've got a bunch of posts in blogatory, as well as plenty of "from scratch" ideas to tide us all over through the holidays.  Thanks for reading, and enjoy your weekend.

-THP

Disney Whirled: Highlights of a Nine-Day Adventure into Magicalness, PART 5: "Rides and Attractions, Volume 1"

Disney World isn’t renowned for its rides the way that traditional amusement parks are, but the rides are obviously still a major focus.  While we didn’t quite hit every ride in the three parks we spent time in, we hit most of them.  Here is our take on some of these rides and attractions.

Star Tours:

Everyone loads into rows of seats on a rectangular platform.  The lights go out, and the platform moves up and down and tilts in various directions.  The gimmick is that you feel as though you are moving more significantly than you are because the screen in front of you is showing Star Wars-themed, 3D footage “filmed from the captain’s chair.”  It’s a fun illusion.

More memorable than the ride itself were the 3D glasses everyone got to wear.

Monkey 2 working the "cool nerd" look

This picture came at a time when I was really starting to wonder if my "cool genes" actually made it to the next generation at all.  Turns out, they were just waiting for the right pair of shades before they manifested themselves.

Pirates of the Caribbean:

Maybe you’ve seen the movies.  I stopped after the second one, when I realized the filmmakers weren’t even pretending to maintain plot cohesion or believability.  The ride is unbelievable in its own right.  You ride in a boat on a lazy river, passing scenes of animatronic pirates engaging in all sorts of debauchery-themed hilarity.  Like when a pirate is torturing some guy to get information about a treasure, dunking him under water, then pulling him up to ask him more questions.  Oh, and there’s the part where women are tied up, then lined up under a banner that reads “Auction: Take a Wench for a Bride.”  I’m laughing just thinking about it.

In Disney’s defense, PotC first opened when moral outrage over traditional American slavery had mostly dissipated and moral outrage over global human trafficking was still in its infancy.  So, yeah, if you couldn’t make light of the buying and selling of human beings in the 1970’s, when could you?

On the other hand, it’s not like this zany take on raping and pillaging exists simply due to inertia.  It’s obviously undergone recent improvements (so to speak).  Case in point: Mingling with these less-than-completely-realistic animatronic creations of pirates and their victims is an extremely lifelike rendering of Johnny Depp—er, “Captain Jack Sparrow.”  Think “Chuck E Cheese” having a conversation with a real (but human size) mouse.  It’s a little out of place.  But so is this ride at a family amusement park.

The two best things about the ride?

-That neither of our girls asked what a wench was

-That I got to incorporate some themes from the ride into the next sweet nothing I whispered in Beth’s ear: “If you were a wench, I would pay 12 bottles of rum for you—at least.”

 

Swiss Family Treehouse:

I’m only kind of familiar with the Swiss family, but I gather that a while ago they crashed a boat and ended up on a deserted island.  Then they built a treehouse.  Here in the present, you can walk through an actual replica of their treehouse right in Disney World.

As a tourist walking through the replica, it’s easy to forget the hardship that the Swiss family went through leading up to the building of the treehouse.  But it’s kind of their own fault because, really, it’s a heck of a tree house.  Like, it’s really nice.  If the Hungry Preacher's family ever becomes stranded on a deserted island, I am not sure if we would be able to build such a nice treehouse.  Well done, Swiss family.

 

Tomorrowland Speedway:

Don’t let the steering wheel and four tires fool you: driving on the Tomorrowland Speedway is actually more like “walking” than “driving.”  That said, the ride does serve as a useful first step for parents to get used to the idea of their children driving actual cars (especially British parents, since the steering wheel is on the right).  As an added bonus, each of my children was just a tad hesitant to grab the wheel, even in this highly controlled setting.  Excellent.

I think Nascar telecasts have a name for this type of camera shot, but I don't care enough about Nascar to look it up

Monkey 2 doing her best "Where's Waldo?" impression

Buzz Lightyear’s Space Ranger Spin / Toy Story Midway Mania:

Two similar rides here.  But are they rides?  Or are they games?  Monkey 1 excitedly (and repeatedly) declared afterwards that they are “Both!”  For each ride, you load into a slow moving car that moves and spins on a track through a tunnel.  It's not that interesting by itself, but the fun part is that each rider has, mounted on the “dashboard” in front of them, a cannon you can fire at physical and virtual targets that are set up throughout the ride.

Buzz Lightyear’s ride seemed to be the first draft of this concept, while the Toy Story ride seemed to be the perfected version of the concept.  The trigger mechanism and the accuracy of the cannon is practically flawless on the Toy Story ride.  At the end of the Toy Story ride, you get a full report of how many targets you hit, and how your score compares to the scores of other people in your car and to the high scores of the day and of all time.

Even more impressive than the ride however, is the post-ride photography.  You know how a lot of rides have it set up so that after the ride is over, you can see a photo of yourself on the ride and, if you really like it, you can just have that photo for free?  What’s that you say?  “I don’t get them for free—I have to pay for them.”  Not any more you don’t.

I came up with the brilliant idea of using our own camera to take a picture of the screen that displays the expensive, official picture.  This idea is tied with “laying my daughter’s old mattress in the back of the minivan” for my best idea ever.  No, I didn’t mean to add “regarding our vacation” to that last sentence.  These are my two best ideas ever.  I’m obviously on a hot streak.

So here are our "free pictures" of "expensive pictures" from the Buzz Lightyear ride.  Bonus points if you can guess which one of the grown ups is participating with the most intensity.

Next up: PART 6: Rides and Attractions, Volume 2

-THP

Disney Whirled: Highlights of a Nine-Day Adventure into Magicalness, PART 4: "Mac and Cheese and Legos"

Looking back, I am sure that our older daughter enjoyed her Disney World experience.  But we knew ahead of time that her enjoyment was going to take a different form than her younger sister’s.  Monkey 1 is a bit of a homebody.  The classic evidence of this is when Beth had run an errand with Monkey 1 in tow, and wanted to stop at Toys ‘r’ Us on the way home.  She asked, “Sweetie, do you want to stop at Toys ‘r’ Us?  There are a couple of things I need to check out for Christmas presents.”Monkey 1’s response?  “No.  I just want to go home.”  Beth tried some arm twisting—you know, to get our then-6-year-old to go to a toy store—but to no avail.

There are plenty of times when she is up for an adventure.  But we’ve learned that scheduling some time to decompress goes a long way towards helping her bounce back.  We knew that during our week in Disney World, these “decompression periods” would be A) harder to schedule, and B) more necessary.

So we proactively scheduled an “off day” for Wednesday.  No parks.  Dinner was the only reason we would need to leave the resort at all.  We also let ourselves plan for leisurely starts to our days.  Whatever magic we would miss out on in the first couple hours that the parks were open, we would replace with morale and sanity gained from our relaxed mornings.

These choices would pay dividends starting on Monday.  But you may recall that we checked into our resort on Sunday.  Thus, Sunday evening was a little bit of a danger zone in terms of how well Monkey 1 might deal with the stress of a new environment.

This is obvious to us now.  At the time, it seemed like a perfectly good idea to schedule our first sit-down, buffet-style meal for Sunday evening, and to schedule it at the restaurant in the Animal Kingdom resort.  This restaurant was African-themed.  It was large, crowded, and wide-open.  Picture a dark-ish cafeteria with a three-story ceiling, African decorations everywhere, and bongo music in the background.  Oh, and the food is “not weird—just different”.

Monkey 1 is hanging in there, but about to crash

Monkey 2 was loving this experience.  On the other side of the table, Monkey 1 started off with an adventurous spirit, but then focused more and more intently on her macaroni and cheese.  While the rest of us were devouring this new experience, Monkey 1 was gobbling up as much cheesy familiarity as her stomach could hold.  It turns out it could hold a lot.

Exactly how much, we’re not sure.  But after Beth and I finished our final trips through the buffet line, we asked the girls if they were ready for dessert.  Monkey 2 lit up.  Monkey 1 looked at us—bedraggled, zoning, and perhaps a little bit fearful—and declined.  This declining-of-dessert is just as strange as it sounds.  Even so, it still didn’t click for me exactly how difficult this evening was shaping up to be for our older daughter.  Fortunately, Beth clued in.  She walked over to her, shared a few words, then announced back to me that she and Monkey 1 would be waiting outside while the rest of us finished up.

So Beth and Monkey 1 got to spend some quality time together.  Later, I found out that Monkey 1 had eaten a lot.  Beth reported that her belly was rock-hard and protruding unnaturally from her tiny little torso.  Laying up against Beth on a bench in the cool Florida night, away from the chaos that is “Disney Africa”—turns out that was just what our little homebody needed.

And so it went: adventure, decompress, adventure, decompress.  I’m using “decompress” very broadly.  Ideally, Monkey 1’s decompression meant having time quietly reading in the comfort of our room.  But spur-of-the-moment decompression times happened any time she was able to hone in on something familiar and comforting.  Maybe my favorite example of this took place on Tuesday morning at the Hollywood Studios Park.  It was about 45 minutes until we were meeting Tim and Angie’s family for lunch, and it started raining.  We ducked inside the “Magic of Animation” attraction, not knowing much about it other than it would protect us from the rain.

Once we got inside, we realized it was basically an animation museum.  There were displays with pictures and videos documenting the process of animation.  All of this was fine and interesting enough.  Beth let Monkey 2 lead the way to what was most interesting to her, while I stood with Monkey 1 while she watched a looped-video of the progression of sketches of several different animated characters.  She loves to draw, and watching these figures take shape was engaging and calming.

As she was being hypnotized by this video, a door opened into the hallway a few feet from where we were standing.  A cast member announced that the animation class was starting in 5 minutes, and anyone interested should come in and find a seat.  It was a perfect and unexpected chance for her to further re-set, and we eagerly scurried into this dim, quiet classroom and found a pair of drawing desks.

For the next 20 minutes, the instructor walked us through the steps of drawing Goofy.  Monkey 1 was the perfect student, listening intently, carefully following each direction.  The fact that this 20 minute adventure seemed so special to her immediately elevated the specialness of the experience to me.  Here’s the evidence of our experience: 

No reason to post my drawing, but it's similar enough to Monkey 1's that it took me a second to tell them apart

A final “point of comforting familiarity” that Monkey 1 stumbled upon during our trip was one that I myself have used to unwind on more occasions than I can count: Legos.  Specifically, situated in the heart of Downtown Disney, is a Lego Store.

Monkey 2 outside the Lego Store in front of a Lego Snow White

Lego sea monster: real or hoax?

I have no idea where she gets her love of Legos.

I tried to photoshop myself a haircut, but to no avail

OK, let me rephrase that: Though I have encouraged her in her Lego pursuits, I have worked hard not to impose upon her the same Lego-values that I was raised with.  And I am proud to say that, even apart from my wants and desires, Monkey 1 likes Legos.

So, once we were in the Lego Store, it was a challenge to pry either of us away.  I treated myself to a plastic container of “pick a bricks,” cramming as many as possible useful-but-unusual bricks into a plastic container about the size of a Big Gulp.  (For the record, I make it a priority to only build with Legos during the times that one or both of my children are building with Legos.  It’s called “parallel play,” and it’s good for the children.)  Monkey 1 helped me with my brick-picking, but also browsed the inventory of city-themed Lego sets, searching for a souvenir of her own.  She decided on this one:

The banana (in the grip of the guy in green) is included apparently as a prop to set up an accident that would require an ambulance and/or helicoptor for the victim.  I mean no disrespect to those of you who have experienced banana-based trauma that necessitated you being airlifted to a hospital, but I'm thinking something like a trampoline or maybe a table saw would have been a more realistic prop to include.  That said, the banana was a significant influence for Monkey 1 picking this set; several times she mentioned how awesome it was that this set came with a banana.  So maybe the folks at Lego know what they're doing after all.

Yes, we went to Disney World, and Monkey 1 decided that her big souvenir of the trip would be a Lego set.  I don’t blame her: Legos are the mac and cheese of toys.

And, since even Monkey 1 sometimes gets full of mac and cheese, we bought her a "How to Draw Disney Characters" book.  On some days, I'm sure it will seem just as magical to her as Legos seem.

Next up: PART 6: Rides and Attractions, Volume 1

-THP

Disney Whirled: Highlights of a Nine-Day Adventure into Magicalness, PART 3: "Pretend People, Real Autographs"

Monday, September 17, was our first full day at Disney World, and we went to Magic Kingdom (quick review of nomenclature: “Magic Kingdom” is one of the 4 main theme parks within “Disney World”).

 

Our 6-year-old daughter was excited to maybe see an actual Disney Princesses.  Weird, right?  Fortunately, Disney provides plenty of opportunities for children of all genders to meet with Princesses, old and new.  They are rarely just strolling around the park; they would get mobbed and hurt.  Seriously.  But you can visit them—or vice versa—in controlled settings, like carefully constructed attractions and something called “character lunches”.

 

Disney even sells autograph books so that you can collect the John Hancocks of Belle and the Gang.

 

On Monday, we attended a “Meet the Princesses” attraction (“attraction = something you have to wait in line to do).  The princesses du jour were Belle, Cinderella, and Rapunzel (thank you Microsoft spellcheck for helping me on that one—that was a nice surprise; I’ll try to stop being so angry at you all the time for everything).  Rapunzel happens to be the favorite of Monkey 2.

I love that you can tell that this is their first Princess photo.  They are posing with such care.
 

Rapunzel's parting words?  "Remember, never cut your hair."  Yeah, thanks for that, Rapunzel.  You wanna come over Monday morning and brush out the tangles quickly enough so that no one is late for school and carefully enough so that no one cries?

It was not until Wednesday that Monkey 2 warmed up to the idea of having an autograph book.  Beth bought one for her.  Though we were a little late getting in the game, the girls had reservations for a Princess character lunch at EPCOT on Thursday.  Autographs would be flowing.  Check it out:

Not sure if this Cinderella or the one at Magic Kingdom was the real one, but I get it; when I double-book, I often send a lookalike, too.

 

 

 

 

Imaginary conversation I had:
ME:  Hey, Sleeping Beauty, can I get your autograph?
SLEEPING BEAUTY:  Argh!  'Sleeping Beauty,' 'Sleeping Beauty'!  I have a name, you know.
ME:  Really?  No, I totally didn't know that.  Does that mean you won't sign 'Sleeping Beauty'?

Monkey 1 is kind of starting to lose it
 

The family of The Hungry Preacher voted this "Best Signiture"

 

Monkey 1 is definitely losing it
 

Notable absences from the EPCOT gathering were Rapunzel, as well as Merida (from “Brave,” which is one of the few princess movies that our kids have actually seen).  Fortunately, we would be spending Friday back at Magic Kingdom, where Merida had a semi-permanent lair where you could visit her after standing in line.  We also figured we could re-visit the “Meet the Princesses” attraction, and maybe land a Rapunzel autograph.

First up was Merida.  Monkey 2 and I went to visit her while Beth and Monkey 1 rode Space Mountain (don’t worry—I got to ride Space Mountain, too).  While waiting in line to meet Merida, kids (and possibly adults—I didn’t ask) could be trained to use a bow and arrow.



There's a large, angry bear charging right at them, but they really kept their cool.

I was a little far away, but it sounded like the Monkey trainer might have been speaking with a Scottish accent.  It didn’t surprise me that Disney would import someone from Scotland for this task.  I tried to position myself to read his nametag, which tells where cast members are from (cast members = Disney World employees).  I was too far away, so I pulled out our fancy new camera with its 20x zoom.

So, no—not from Scotland.  New Jersey.  It’s funny how differently I view kilt-wearing for someone from Scotland versus someone from New Jersey.  Anyway, after about a half an hour, a super-friendly Merida was signing our very own autograph book.
 



I actually met a "Merida" about 5 years ago.  I have thought a lot about how one would handle having a name that almost nobody even knew was a name to suddenly having a name that almost everyone knows and that is poised to become trendy and popular.  Would that mess you up?  Would it change how you see yourself?  Would you catch yourself explaining to people how to spell it, only to have them impatiently cut you off and be like, "I got it, I got it."

 

Beth was a little underwhelmed with the signature, but I felt like it was distinct and character-appropriate.  I haven't checked back with Beth to see if it has grown on her.  Maybe I'll include that information in "Disney Whirled: Highlights of a Nine-Day Adventure into Magicalness, THE APPENDIX"

 

Rapunzel was a little trickier.  Friday afternoon, I scouted the “Meet the Princesses” attraction and discovered Rapunzel was NOT making any more appearances.  I asked the nearest cast member if there was a way to track her down.  She pointed across the pedestrian walkway to a building labeled “City Hall.”  “They might know,” she said.

I crossed the street and got in line.  It was like a bank, with “tellers” signaling their availability to help the next person in line.  After a couple of minutes, I was summoned by a young woman named Sandra.  I greeted her politely, then explained our situation as briefly and somberly as I could, concluding with: “So is there any way we can find out if Rapunzel will be making any more appearances anywhere in the park?”

Sandra was a pro.  Very understanding.  Seemed to really feel my pain, probably even more than I was feeling my pain.  She excused herself to the back room to check some information, then came back and broke the news: “Rapunzel won’t be making any more appearances until the park re-opens in the evening for the Halloween party, which you would need a separate admission to attend.”  Sandra continued, “But if you want to leave the autograph book here, and come back in about an hour, we can make sure that Rapunzel signs it.”

I wasn’t sure if she meant, “Rapunzel, wink, wink,” or if the actual Disney representation of the fictional character herself would sign it.  I also wasn’t sure if I cared.  Either way, I didn’t have the book with me.  I told Sandra I’d talk to my wife about it, and would come back with the book if we decided on this course of action.

I found Beth and the girls.  Turns out, Beth had talked with Angie (whose family we were doing the Disney thing with) and worked out her own solution to the problem of the Rapunzellessness of our autograph book.  Angie would meet up with us later and say something like, “Hey, I think I might know where Rapunzel is—if you give me your book, I can go see, and maybe she’ll sign it.”

Angie would head off for a few minutes and commit an act of forgery.  She’d return the book, and everyone would be happy.  Except for one little thing which I pointed out to Beth: this plan, technically speaking, involved lying.  Now, dear readers, please believe me when I say that I do not think of myself as morally superior to very many people, and especially not to Beth.  Even now, I see that this “lie” would have been more akin to “pretending stuffed animals can talk” than it would be to anything that most people would consider a “lie”.  But for some reason the idea made me cringe just a tiny bit.  I communicated my hesitancy to Beth.

Trying to be sensitive to my tender conscience, she gently wondered how her plan was any different from dropping off the book at guest relations where, for all we knew, it would be signed by some guy in a kilt from New Jersey.

I didn’t necessarily disagree with this comparison, except that at least in the “drop it off” plan, we ourselves could claim to be duped.  I was prepared to concede that the line between “asking someone to commit forgery” and “asking someone to commit forgery but not tell you that’s what they are doing” might have been a little fuzzier than it initially seemed.  Meanwhile, Beth tried to gauge how disappointed our younger Monkey would be if we weren’t able to get Rapunzel’s autograph at all.

I was not expecting her response: “Can’t you just sign it?”  Have me or Beth sign “Rapunzel,” right there, with Monkey 2 watching?  This would, by far, be the easiest solution.  And admittedly, I was already excited about the possibilities for blending the tail of the “R” into the bottom of the “z,” and trying to make the continuous line look like a flowing stream of hair.

But if the idea of asking Angie to sign Rapunzel’s name gave me pause, this suggestion rocked me to my core.  It was just too weird!  I pulled Beth aside.  “Having one of us unapologetically sign it right in front of her would contradict the foundational purpose of getting an autograph in the first place.  An autograph is a way of demonstrating that this signed item was once touched and held by this very person.  Think of the word itself: ‘auto’ means ‘self’; ‘graph’ means ‘writing’.  By definition, neither you nor I can legitimately provide the ‘auto-graph’ of someone else.”

OK, so that’s a more articulate paraphrase of what I actually said, but the feelings were real.  The bottom line was even if our child didn’t understand what an autograph was all about, it was our job to teach her.  If that meant getting her book signed by some guy in a kilt from New Jersey pretending to be the actual Disney representation of the fictional character, Rapunzel—well, as long as none of us saw it happening, the sanctity “autographs” would be preserved.

Taking the book, I headed back to guest relations with boldness and purpose.  I found Sandra, reminded her of her promise, and left the book.  About an hour later, I returned.  Lo and behold:

No way some guy from New Jersey signed that, right?  It's kind of girly-looking, right?  Maybe even from the hand of Rapunzel herself?  To that, I can honestly say, "As far as we know."

Next up: PART 4: Mac and Cheese and Legos

-THP