She just had to pick Magic Kingdom. My constant pleas for EPCOT fell on deaf ears as we were dragged off to a park clearly designed for people under the age of ten. For those unaware, the Magic Kingdom is that special theme park where even the power lines are in the shape of Mickey Mouse ears. We were adventuring to the place that thrives in the dreams and hearts of children who have yet to see double digits in their ages. Living only two hours away from this childhood paradise meant that it had been a frequent destination for family vacations.
I’ve been there on countless school field trips and even for birthday parties. Needless to say, I would call myself a Disney World veteran. For the first time in probably 10 years, we went on another family vacation to our old favorite. This summer, however, something was strange about the Happiest Place on Earth — I felt as though I was out of place.
We stayed in the same hotel-resort that we always stayed in. The rooms were the same, the musical instrument-shaped pools were the same and even the food served at breakfast was the same. The only difference this time around was my choice to order wheat toast instead of my previous favorite, Mickey waffles with whipped cream. We sat outside at the tables near the booths where we had caricatures drawn and hair wraps done, which became memories of summer magic.
A monorail brought us to the park, and with the morning sun staring us in the faces we entered Main Street, USA. The street was already flooded with families trailing little kids who were donning various princess costumes and Disney-themed getups. However, none were nearly as stylish as the Lion King fanny packs we sported as young ones. My sister and I walked around while my father followed at an almost creepy distance taking pictures of us.
Being at the right place at the right time, we were privy to the parade, brimming with neon colors and enthusiasm, set to a Hannah Montana soundtrack, which urged us to “Celebrate!” For some reason, this just wasn’t the Disney World I remembered. Becoming increasingly afraid that all my childhood memories were unfounded, we wandered through Frontierland, Tomorrowland (Space Mountain was closed!) and managed to grab some overpriced lunch in Adventureland. Now all I could think about was how much of a rip-off my measly vegetarian taco was.
Hidden away in a corner, we saw the ever-sought-after Captain Hook, signing autographs in little hardbound books, clutched delicately in tiny hands as though they were plated in gold. As a child I would imagine the long journey it took for him to get here, and whether he docked his ship at the docks near my house. Now all I could see was that poor person sweating away inside the costume. Even the whir of our old film camera advancing had now been replaced with beeps of digital cameras, snapping away without discretion at the beaming children, always dwarfed by the characters. As a Disney singalong VHS once said: “Taking pictures is making memories.”
The rides still held that same nostalgic value I had remembered. We sat through the time-suck that is the Carousel of Progress, and enjoyed the new, impressively realistic animatronics of the Pirates of the Caribbean. My favorite ride as a child was Thunder Mountain Railroad. This wild ride terrified and delighted my 10-year-old self. Sitting safely next to my dad, the lap bar extended far above my own lap, creating optimal bouncing around capabilities. The scariest part was when we went through the constructed caves. My dad’s height always created a bit of anxiety — what if they didn’t make the opening high enough?
We skipped Thunder Mountain on this trip. The line was pretty long, and our fast pass was slotted for pretty late in the day; as the seasoned family we are, we were planning on leaving rather soon.
The trolley rambled through the parking lot, taking us to the “Donald” lot were our car was waiting, bathed in the dusky sunlight. We drove home in a pensive silence. Disney World is a great place to go as a child or parent. In-between times are just a bit confusing. It was an interesting and strange experience to go again, as a 20-year-old with my dad and 17-year-old sister. I didn’t quite understand my place in this land of happiness and magic. But as I saw young families experiencing the splendor for the first time, it made me feel a little better knowing that Disney hadn’t lost its ability to amaze and delight, even if I was no longer its target audience.