It's A Small Park After All

The Magical Kingdom is just as magical as it was some twelve years ago when I first visited. That is to say that due to the popularity, you have to wear full body armor in order to survive being run down by mothers pushing strollers at break-neck speeds and with as much concern for the sanctity of life as Thulsa Doom and Hannibal Lechter on a weekend spree.

May I suggest a light titanium alloy with some cotton fabric underneath to prevent chaffing.

But that’s not all.

Oh there’s so much more to Disneyland these days to impress and amaze, and not just the prices on the food, of the fact that It’s a Small World is still running!

For starters, remember those long, unbearable lines that you had to stand in? You know, the ones where a copy of both War and Peace and Anna Karenina would just barely get you through? The ones where food supplies aren’t just a good idea, they are a necessity for survival? The ones even Rip Van Winkle would be hard pressed to sleep through?

Yeah, those lines!

Well, now there is a new system called FastPass. This is truly an inspired piece of work. My friends and I , while using this wonder drug that works wonders, discussed how it was certainly a benefit to both the park and the park-goer.

The concept is fairly simple. You go to a line for say The Indiana Jones Adventure and see that the wait time is currently listed at “The Second Coming” (my pardon to all the Jewish readers for whom it should be “The First Coming”) and then you shuffle over to a magic box. At this magic box you insert your gate pass in one slot (so DON’T throw away your gate pass, as the magic box won’t work then), you pull out your gate pass and you get a second little ticket that roughly tells you to come back to Indiana Jones in an hour when you can walk through the “special” line. Then you trundle away happily whistling some tune (may I suggest something along the lines of how our world isn’t so big after all?!) and buy food, dodge insane mothers who are trying to set land-speed records, and basically kill time. If you are smart, you go on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, or take a little visit through Sleeping Beauty’s Castle. Then you shuffle back, again avoiding the loss of toes under flaming stroller wheels, and thumb your nose at the poor slobs who opted to “Stand By”.

It’s great!

Michael Eisner probably comes down from his tower around 2 a.m. and simply rolls naked in the daily receipts chanting, “I’m Michael Eisner and YOU’RE NOT!”

But the best part of this new system is that now you can, as my ride partner said, “Get your monies worth.” If you work the system right, you can be holding two passes and walk from one fun-filled ride to another.

And boy did we ever.

By the end of the evening, the Magic Kingdom had changed me into a little kid again. At least in the sense that I was no longer skipping and running to the rides, but instead I lagged behind, complained loudly about my feet hurting or how hungry I was, and kept trying to sleep in the unoccupied strollers left behind at rides.

Four year-olds can get really push when they’ve found you’ve taken their stroller.

After we left the nurse’s station, my compatriots decided to resurrect and age-old tradition. Namely, as the evening winds down and there are fewer park-goers present (the herd having been culled by stroller-mothers), you find one ride, ride it, and then run back to the line to ride it again.

Did I mention at this point my feet were hurting?

Yeah, well, in addition to picking Space Mountain as our final ride, which was not my favorite choice, my eyes had also decided to start closing of their own accord. At certain rides they take a picture of you at the end that you can purchase in case you forget what ride it was that caused you whiplash. They proudly display these pictures for all to see as you exit the ride. I started to look more and more stoned, and security guards became increasingly itchy around me. They kept staring at my pockets and probably felt the need to frisk me for illicit substances.

They should have known that my drugs are ALL prescription!

Ha!

So, with rosy-fingered evening, the park closed, and with that unlikely event we actually LEFT and headed for HOME. Fortunately, I wasn’t driving. I also wasn’t navigating or playing any real role, and at these times I find the trunk of the car very conducive to my needs.

I guess I snore too.

But if you listen, really carefully, maybe, just maybe you can tell that . . . I DO NOT snore to the tune of IT’S a Small World.

That’s just for the record.