Now I can spend a lot of time railing about the high prices at the Magic Kingdom, and suggest that Walt Disney is somewhere rolling in his grave. Or I can just shut up and save my money, that I may eventually say, "Shut up and take my money." I probably will settle for the latter, because a boycott by people who can't afford Disneyland is not likely to be effective. Also, because I love the place. I mean I really love the place.
I'm 40 and have lived in southern California my whole life. For much of my childhood, I went to Disneyland as much as once a year, and occasionally twice a year. I went to Disneyland when the ride Adventure Thru Inner Space was still intact, and man do I miss that one. For those who don't recall this particular attraction, they shrunk you. Yeah, you got shrunk. First to the size of a snowflake. Then to the size of an atom.
No shit. You knew it was really happening because while you were waiting in line, you could see the poor bastards who had gone before you, exiting the ride through a plastic tube, looking a bit plasticine themselves, quite a bit smaller than Barbie and Ken.
When I was very small, I wanted to live in the clock tower of "It's a Small World."
Later, I wanted to live in the quiet little cabin at the start of Pirates of the Caribbean, just me on a rocking chair amid the artificial bayou, plunking solemnly at the banjo (what a lonely sound) and watching the fireflies dance.
Considering I also fantasized about living alone in a library and in a shopping mall, it seems like there was something going on. Perhaps I've got one toe in the kingdom of Asperger's syndrome, and I just wanted some kind of bad-ass retreat where it could be me and my thoughts, sans too much stimulation, along with perks like going on all the D-land rides, "shopping" for a new outfit every day and reading every book ever invented. You know, make introversion an extreme sport.
By the way, I know it's kind of ghetto, but if you can't go to Disneyland there is a way fake it till you make it. You can experience the majesty of the Small World ride by going on a virtual ride, because people have pirated it, sort of. They've taken action vids of various Disney rides and while the experience falls sadly short, it's better than nothing? Care to give it a spin?
Now, had my misanthropic desire to live alone at Disneyland been a real option, I think my best bet would have been Pirates because man, I love the smell of that water. Who knows what I'm talking about? It's like a mixture of chlorine and mildew, lovingly stirred by the movement of boats, occasional cannonfire and perhaps a drunken pirate's dirty toe.
My friend and co-worker Jenelle, a Disneyphile who actually goes there a lot, and I have discussed bottling the scent. Another co-worker suggested the name "Dank" for our scent, but for the THC-loving community, that has another connotation. I'm thinking a hip acronym like POC.
Anyhow, I'm just a Disneyland lover who has "fallen off" the middle class, as you would say. And I want to get back there, so I don't worry about bills and so I can take my kids to Disneyland.
I wanna eat at the Blue Bayou Cafe.
Yes, I'm that wistful.
I wanna hear the ominous sound of possums singing "Everybody's Got a Laughing Place" in minor notes on Splash Mountain, which means things are about to go shithouse and you're going down a precipitous drop. And Uncle Remus isn't going to save you, because he's not represented on the ride. Nor will Brer Rabbit, because he's used to getting in a whole mess of trouble.
And I want us all to get matching, name-emroidered Micky Mouse ears. And I want us to watch the sun go down on Radiator Springs. And I want to still feel kind of bitter than the Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse was turned into Tarzan's home (ages ago) and inwardly rail at the political correctness of putting plates in the hands of the wenches the pirates were chasing. Why whitewash the situation? Those guys were looking for booty, and by booty I don't just mean pirate treasure.
So I'm just going to put this out there into the universe, using The Secret. I wanna go to Disneyland. No, let me be more pro-active: I will go to Disneyland sometime in 2015.
It's my birthright as a southern Californian and as someone whose inner child is often my outer being. And I won't even add the guilty hashtag of #FirstWorldProblems. This is one of those #MyWorldProblems. This is a #SmallWorldProblem. And I will not rest until I solve it.
Who's with me?
—Sarah Torribio
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