Exhaustion is the Real Magic at the ‘Magic Kingdom’

My sister and her two kids visited us every summer when our children were younger. It was always quite the party. My husband became catatonic and my sister and I pretty much tried to stay medicated for four days. During this time, we would make our annual pilgrimage to Disneyland. 

This was actually a wonderful, magical adventure. An opportunity to indulge each and every fantasy our children might have had. An opportunity to see genuine wonder and enchantment. And, since our kids were still in preschool, it was awhile before we would hear “Aw, that was bogus, Buttmunch.” 

Our journey typically began before dawn, somewhere in the neighborhood of 4AM. I was usually awakened by our youngest who, because of her age and allergies, had to sleep by herself in the only hermetically sealed room in the house. 

“Mom? Is it time to go to Disneyland?” 

“No. Mickey’s still sleeping. Which is what you should be doing. Go to bed.” 

This was followed by the shuffling of feet as she went back down the hall. 

At 4:35 AM I would, again, be awakened. 

“Mom, light is getting in my eyes. Now is it time to go to Disneyland?” 

“No! Turn off your bedroom light and go back to bed!” 

At 5:10 AM:

“Mom?”

“No!”

“Mom?”

“Talk to your father.” 

By this time, the rest of the spawn were awake and were bouncing around the bed like bugs on hot pavement which meant a breakfast of some sugar-coated cereal product might be a mistake. But we were in a rush to be there when the gate opened, first in line at Pirates of the Caribbean. Heading out of the driveway, stuffed like pasta shells in the family van, we would do a drive-by on our bank ATM; Disneyland is not for the faint of wallet. 

At the crack of dawn, the traffic is light, so the trip to Anaheim would be uneventful. I would grab a few more precious moments of sleep, cheek firmly adhered to the passenger window, drool running down the glass. 

I would be awakened by my husband mounting the charge as we enter the parking lot.

“Let the fleecing begin!” he would yell, opening his wallet and beginning the offloading of cash. 

Now at this point, I could tell you our own personal secrets about circumnavigating Disneyland; the best place to park, how to storm the gate, which areas to hit first. But that would be unfair…to me. After all, I’ve spent years in California gleaning the secrets of the natives and I’m not about to share them. 

It is best to say that one should always have a strategic plan. We had ours. Since there are more children than adults, we adopted a zone defense. Dad was in charge of the backpack which had an ample supply of juice, raisins, cookies and baby wipes. My sister and I handled reconnaissance. 

Our first stop would be the “Pirates of the Caribbean”. With all the “plundering of parents” at the Magic Kingdom, I liked to imagine Michael Eisner sitting behind his big aircraft carrier of a desk singing “Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me!” 

After this, we would head for Fantasyland. We would mix it up a little, careful to avoid the Teacups and Roger Rabbit’s ride at Toontown; the former because it makes Mom and Dad sick, the latter because we felt our kids were too young for an acid trip. 

By late morning, we’re thrilled if we’ve ridden five rides.

We all had our favorite rides and tried to accommodate everyone. My husband liked the Jungle Cruise because it gave him an opportunity to sit next to the ‘cruise director’ and embellish upon the tour patter. This must be particularly refreshing for the cruise director who probably only dealt with this type of tourist on everyride. It was equally annoying for those of us related to my husband. 

A few more rides and it would be time for lunch. My husband would, once again, open his whimpering wallet and deposit more cash on a terminally cheerful cashier. After lunch, we would try to wind the kids down with the Disneyland Railroad ride around the park. This was also a good opportunity for crowd reconnaissance. We would start our ride at the New Orleans Square train station where, as you wait in line, you can hear the tap-tap-tap of a message in Morse code. After several trips to Disneyland, I am pleased to be able to tell you what that Morse code message says: “OPEN-YOUR-WALLET-STOP-LEAVE-ALL-CASH-STOP-HAVE-A-GREAT-DAY-STOP-SUCKERS”. I’m kidding, of course, but, spoken out loud and with the appearance of great concentration, this little dialogue will entertain other parents, such as yourselves, as you wait in line. 

Our afternoons were usually pretty relaxed. The youngest would insist on “It’s A Small World” through which my husband, sister and I would try to catch a nap. We’d giddily throw money at a street vendor selling cotton candy and regret it when the two boys adhered themselves to one of the plush Disney Characters that roam the park. On a hot day in Disneyland, this can became sport; The Characters lurked about in the shade trying to find any cool area and we, the ever-diligent photographer parents, earnestly flushed them out into the hot sun for the Christmas card photo op. 

By 5PM we parents were clearly in control. The wee ones have almost no resistance left and are looking for dinner. There was only one occasion when we ate at the park. After a full day, and an hour wait in line, we managed to secure a table at the popular “Blue Bayou” restaurant, which overlooks the “Pirates of the Caribbean”. We had done this because it was my sister’s birthday. As we finally sat down and the waitress approached us for our drink orders, my sister, in a voice barely above a choking whisper, asked for a double scotch and water, only to be told that alcohol was not served in the park. The look in my sister’s misty, watering eyes at that moment was as close to a mental breakdown as I have seen. 

After that experience, we chose to have our future dinners at “Goofy’s Kitchen” a cute little buffet-style restaurant in the Disneyland Hotel complex. It’s chief attraction is having your meal in the presence of Disney Characters. This was a big problem for my husband who still can’t tell the difference between Goofy and Pluto. Try making that mistake to someone in a dog suit. 

“Goofy’s Kitchen” represented a major dollar dump. Ignore the Brinks armored cars parked right outside. In spite of this, we still found a big line at “Goofy’s Kitchen” and, at this point, we were willing to suffer a line of any length because at Goofy’s Kitchen we found something that they don’t have in Disneyland: alcoholic beverages! 

An hour later, our four little dears would fall asleep in the car on the ride home. They looked as if they’d been brushed with fairy dust; their dreams assuredly of strong furry Disney Character hugs. As we pulled away from the park, we bade a fond farewell to financial solvency. For us, it was truly magic if the kids slept in an extra hour in the morning.