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All in the name of memory making
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November 11, 2009 | 03:28 PM
Our friend calls it making memories. She does something elaborate for her children and hopes it creates the foundation of a happy childhood. In that same spirit, I finally relented and visited a place I had no desire to go: Disney World.
My fear that Disney and lines are as inextricably intertwined as Mickey and Minnie came to the surface almost immediately, as we waited at Orlando Airport for over 45 minutes for a bus to take us to our Disney beds. A Disney employee made the delay tolerable by sharing incredibly friendly 9:30 pm airport banter.
As soon as we boarded the immaculately clean bus whose exterior is a sleek throwback to the '50s, it was clear no detail is too small for Disney. As we sat on plush red seats with twinkling yellow stars, the floor sparkled beneath us.
On our first full day, we headed to the Magic Kingdom. The park lines weren't nearly as bad as I anticipated. We walked right onto the Small World exhibit. Even for a would-be cynic, the Small World ride was awesome. The elaborate figures were everywhere, riding bicycles on tightropes, climbing mountains, celebrating special occasions, while nearly all of them clapped and moved to the catchy but repetitive song. The child in me kept saying, "Wow," while the adult wondered how many people it took to keep those parts moving and how many times I'd have to hear that song before I couldn't shut it off in my head.
Thanks to a FastPass system that allows you to save a place in line without standing in one, we got right on the Peter Pan ride. We glided over a miniaturized version of London, complete with Big Ben and model cars with small headlights driving back and forth across narrow roads. We weaved from scene to scene, including one where Wendy stands on the edge of a plank, hands tied behind her, until Peter fights off Captain Hook and saves the day.
When I got off, I couldn't help using one of my children's words when they're pleased with an experience: Again!
There were unexpected treats sprinkled through the day. We watched several elaborate parades. My children waved to Mickey, Donald and Goofy and, to their great delight, the people inside waved back (I wondered how sweaty those people must be inside those costumes).
What surprised me wasn't my reaction: it was my kids'. My children, who sometimes find a three-minute traffic light an intolerable inconvenience, thought nothing of waiting 45 minutes to get a picture and autograph with a Disney character. The search for autographs from these characters was both a competitive matter of pride ("we have more than 20 already!") and something of a scavenger hunt.
Like a Disney movie, the weekend wasn't without its share of villainous moments. A few times, our family shuffled along, boxed in by an overflow crowd that moved slower than the Long Island Expressway during rush hour in a construction zone. I also saw plenty of parents and children exhausted and over-stimulated by what can seem like an Attention Deficit Disorder factory. Several children whined, cried and acted out.
Still, when looking back on the pictures, I felt the glow from my children's natural smiles. More importantly, they grinned again as they studied the photos. We had succeeded in making memories.
Would I go back? Sure, to make memories with the grandkids if I'm so lucky.
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