Like my friend with whom I was traveling, for most Americans the main attractions are the endless and elaborate fireworks available every night at every park and resort area at 9 p.m. My friend was not interested in attractions, rides, or educational opportunities as much as she wanted to see the park illuminations, eat at specific restaurants and partake of the endless shopping opportunities. This was not a match made in vacation heaven and I suspect the last time I will be invited to travel with her. Although she complained bitterly about the whining hoards of children, it never occurred to her that the kids should have been in bed, instead of being dragged by Disney attired parents from one fireworks extravaganza after another.
Every single activity she had planned for us was designed around a major fire work event. We could have enjoyed a peaceful fireworks display from our comfortable digs at the Boardwalk Hotel, or we could have been pushed and shoved into a stadium of more than 70,000 people where the spectacular fireworks/laser display paled in comparison to the fact that as part of the finale they set the lake on fire! The heat was so intense that I felt it, way up there at the top of the bleachers. I then had to drag my exhausted carcass down the incline from which I puffed and limped my way up to the boat transport back to our hotel fighting stroller wielding, wild-eyed parents intent on getting to the head of the line no matter what.
Our second must was the illumination at Epcot, for which there is no seating but there are thousands of people milling around the lake waiting for the 9 p.m. show. But we had to be in place by 8--that's right we stood in one spot for a full hour waiting for the nightly display of brotherly love, in which, yes, you guessed it, someone sets the damn lake on fire--but not as spectacular as the night before. I was made to stand as the man next to me and his wife saved an entire bench for the two of them.
Eventually, the man relented and offered me a corner of his bench, which I gratefully accepted--but about which my friend felt compelled to complain loudly and repeatedly. Yes, it was rude of him to have reserved the entire bench, but he did relent and my bad knee was grateful and I saw no reason to complain loudly and relentlessly.
And then there's this endless trek to find the boat back to our hotel. Now, it is virtually impossible to be lost at Epcot as the whole thing is built in a circle, which did not stop my painfully geographically impaired companion from shrieking about how we were going the wrong way as I trudged in what I knew was the correct direction. Next time I'm hiring a scooter, which assures you of priority seating for the Epcot fireworks extravaganza and, as it happens, the right to cut off and run down anyone in my path.
We did not make it back to the shop in which she found some made-in-China travel crap she could not live without. And as I listened to her bemoan the fact that all the shops were closed, I restrained myself from reminding her that had we gone there first, as I suggested, instead of standing around waiting for the illuminations, she would have obtained her heart's desire.
Anyway, the previous night's Fantasmagoria, she insisted, was far better than these illuminations anyway--and if that is the case why did she insist we go back to Epcot in the first case.
And now we come to the final illumination in the Magic Kingdom (which we never got to visit), which, I was assured was best viewed from the California Grill--only we were unable to obtain reservations BEFORE the fireworks. Now my friend is nothing if not relentless, self-absorbed and, in this case, downright mean spirited.
She badgered, cajoled, browbeat, harassed, and generally made life miserable on a three-time-a-day basis any concierge who had the bad luck to cross her path. At one point she was able to obtain a reservation at the California Grill (a cancellation) but she would have to give up her reservation at the Brown Derby and that was unacceptable. But finally, she found some poor fool who actually went out of his way (and clearly called in a favor) to not only get her an early reservation at the California Grill, but to guarantee it with his credit card--for which he was not thanked but was soundly brought to task for using his credit card to obtain the reservation and now her's (which California Grill had on file) and when we arrived, the hostess was given a tongue lashing because although we had a 7:30 reservation, the original 10 reservation was not cancelled and she certainly had no intention of paying for two reservations--which was easily corrected and wouldn't have happened anyway. She complained bitterly and halfway through dinner noted that "Madonna would not have to wait months for a reservation. They would find room for her." Having had more than enough, I pointed out that (1) She was not Madonna and (2) the concierge who got her the damn reservation in the first place deserved a thanks if not a tip (he received neither).
Which brings me to what I think it wrong with the US. We like shiny objects, we are easily amused and distracted from things that matter by bombast, pretty lights, false sentimentality, and our insular version of our own and world history (don't even get me started here). But we make no effort to understand other people. Why is that clotheshorse Diana, Princess of Wales celebrated along with Franklin Roosevelt, Winston Churchill and Gandhi? We think we are the center of the universe. We have no understanding, compassion, or empathy for anybody who gets in our way. We complain about people who break the rules to get what they want and then break the rules when it works in our favor. We have a contempt for anybody who is not us. It reminds me of my first trip to Europe when for the first time I saw us as others saw us and have tried ever since to be a better guest when visiting another country.
I've always been conflicted by the whole Disney religion. Some of my fondest movie memories are Walt Disney Products, including Fantasia, Lady and the Tramp, and Peter Pan. I still remember the chill when I heard those fearful words: "MAN (long pause) is in the forest!" You knew the bad guy had arrived and you knew his name. I still cannot talk about Dumbo without blubbering like a infant. I didn't just watch Mickey Mouse Club--I had home made costumes and I danced and sang along with Annette, and Cubby, and Karen and all the rest. At the age of 10, I called the Walt Disney Studios to see how I could get a job there! I can wax rhapsodic about the artistry of Disney Productions and yet...
Disney has always presented a sanitized, fictionalized version of US history that is accepted by too many people as gospel. Long before Joe McCarthy, Walt was branding people with whom he did not agree as Communist spies and he once accused the Screen Actors Guild of being a Communist front. And yet be built a basketball court so that his employees could blow off steam during a day's work. The atmosphere at the Disney Studios when Walt was alive was conducive to artistic endeavors and the marriage of music, movement and darn good story telling: Bambi's mother dies; Dumbo is separated from his mother and forced to work in a Circus; Old Yellow gets shot! Somehow there was a happy ending--the beast, unlike the beast in real life, becomes a prince.
In the 1960s, Walt unveiled plans for Disney World and Epcot, which would feature golf courses and resort hotels--but I don't think he envisioned the vast empire that now sprawls over 45 acres in Orlando and employs 50,000 people. He died in 1966, so he saw none of it and Epcot, the Experimental Prototype City of Tomorrow, has become a massive shopping mall. There are four major parks with assorted resorts, some low end and some high priced villas offered for sale to Disney Vacation Members. The Disney Complex is a city of perfectly manicured lawns, little girls attired in expensive Disney Princess Costumes, and Disney wares everywhere. In fact, I think that there is some kind of law that requires the wearing of Disney attire by all--except me, until the unfortunate event at Animal Kingdom.
Which brings me to the highlight of the trip. A long-time smoker, I have, of late, been made aware of some unpleasant medical facts. But I don't let these things stop me and I honestly believed I had the stamina to march through four parks in two days. Apparently not. And to make matters worse, my companion was less than thrilled with my slow but steady pace. Also, even as a child, heat was my enemy and the sun is not the friend to those of us who have fair skin.
On Sunday, I did the best I could to keep up--but keeping up meant rushing around Hollywood and Epcot from one shop to another and one grudging stop at the aquarium, which I wanted to see, and Soarin, which I did not get to see because she didn't want to wait. I was exhausted and having trouble breathing and what I should have realized was that I was on the threshold of a panic attack (which, for those who have never had one, is no fun).
So on Monday I really wanted to go to the Magic Kingdom, but, knowing she wanted to do the Mt. Everest roller coaster, and I love roller coasters, I suggested we go to Disney's Animal Kingdom--another shopping mall with restaurants and two maybe three rides and several animal experiences. She rushed the full length of the park toward Everest, which had a waiting time of 90 minutes (all the fast passes are taken), and she doesn't want to wait, so we rushed (she rushes, I creep along) to the water ride, in the hot Florida sun, I am not wearing a hat, I can't breathe, and I lose track of her in this mass of humanity. It was at this point that my mind went into sensory overload and I have a full tilt boogie panic attack. What this means is that I cannot breathe, my heart is beating a mile a minute, my blood pressure is so high that my face feels numb, and my knees are week (I think there was a little sun stroke mixed in because I am not wearing a hat).
Knowing that I am in trouble, maybe deep trouble, I spot a sweet park employee and ask for help. She's young, efficient, and cool. She recommends that she walk me to the first aid station which is right over the bridge and someone will help me get out of the park and back to the hotel.
This is all I want.
At this point me friend calls and demands to know where I am because she is waiting for me at the rapids ride, which is near. I make the wrong decision and walk to the rapids ride, now impeded because the park is setting up for the three o'clock parade. I arrive, here my friend is bitching out the park attendant because the wait for the ride is more than an hour and there are no fast passes left. However, she notices that I am now pale and looking faint. Things begin to move too fast because this park attendant calls the EMT, and that IS bad news. No, I don't want to be hospitalized in Orlando. It takes some doing, but I convince one and all that what I need is a wheelchair ride to First Aid, and maybe something cool to drink. (I dismiss thoughts of Natasha Richardson whirling about my overheated brain.)
However, the Animal Kingdom Parade is seconds away from starting---so a park attendant wheels me down the center of the street with the Parade in my wake. What could I do? I waved and nodded to the crowd, which amused the park attendant and infuriated my friend.
I am somewhat surprised that in a departure from the African/Asian decor of the park, the first aid station is bright, modern, and air conditioned--all of which serve to calm me--and if I didn't think this would get me in deep EMT trouble, I'd have asked for a low level tranquilizer. Instead of joining the parade to its conclusion, we agree that I will watch from a shaded sideline. I do buy a hat, now much too late (so now I too have Disney attire), and make it back to our luxurious hotel, in time to rush out for the Epcot fireworks. My friend is less sympathetic that I had hoped. But in the end I fork over $150 for meals I would never have ordered on my own, saw nothing of the parks, and miraculously begin to feel better when we finally part, she for her airline and me for mine--which was delayed 2/ 1/2 hours and which cost me an additional $60 cab fare to get home (I was in no mood to argue with the cabbie, but he overcharged me and could have at least dropped my bags at the door). I did call him a thief and a moron, but only under my breath.
I do not regret the cartons of cigarettes, gallons of Coke, or tons of brownies that have brought me to this low level. Life has changed, I was unceremoniously dumped from a job after 17 years, money is tight, my computer is screwed up and I am not the the person who was hopeless lost in the Ardenne Forest, only to find my way back to await my erstwhile rescuers with a cigarette and some smart ass comments. But you know what they say, it's not that the glass is half full or half empty, it's that damn glass just ain't big enough. And if you are going to Disney World, make sure it's someone who wants to enjoy the attractions and not the shopping.
However, you have never eaten a Cobb Salad unless you have the Cobb Salad at the Brown Derby. The Brown Derby restaurant was a famous LA eating spot, shaped like a Brown Derby. Clark Gable proposed to Carole Lombard there and the Cobb Salad was invented by chef Bob Cobb and believe me you have never tasted a Cobb Salad unless you have the one served at Disney's Brown Derby. The restaurant closed in 1985 but the name has been franchised and in 1987 one opened in Disney's Hollywood Park. I recommend it and the grapefruit cake. But I warn you that you may need to make reservations nine months in advance.
Peace out.
