The Happiest Place on Earth

A week ago yesterday I spent a wonderful day at Disneyland with my oldest daughter and my grandson. It was made a little more special because the day happened at my daughter’s invitation. An invitation from one of the kids always makes for a nice occasion.

I love Disneyland, always have and always will. This was at least my 12th visit to the Magic Kingdom and it continues to work its magic on me. My family should grow very concerned about my mental and emotional well being if the day arrives when I announce that I’m not interested in making the next trip to The Happiest Place on Earth.

When I went as a child, I enjoyed Disneyland as a child. When I’ve returned as an adult I’ve done so in the company of children and I’ve enjoyed watching each of those children discover what I discovered as a child. It never gets old.

This was perhaps the first visit for which I had no agenda whatsoever. I was there for one purpose and that was to spend the day with part of my family. I didn’t care where we went or what we did. I didn’t care when we started or when we stopped. I didn’t care when or what we ate. I was carefree and it was a nice way to spend the day. I highly recommend carefree.

While I’m shocked at the reality that Disneyland will shortly turn 52 I’ve had the pleasure of watching this king of amusement parks develop from the beginning. My first trip there was in 1955, shortly after it opened. While we saw and rode everything available, at the age of six, I was drawn to Fantasyland, the center of the Kingdom, particularly Peter Pan’s Flight and Dumbo the Flying Elephant. I was thrilled to get my picture taken with life-sized cutouts of Davy Crockett (Fess Parker) and George Russell (Buddy Ebsen) in Frontierland, where mom and dad bought me a regulation Davy Crockett coonskin cap.

A second trip about three years later is remembered for two things – seeing my dad sitting on one of the park benches in front of Sleeping Beauty’s Castle at about 3:00PM – leg weary and worn out. The second memorable sight was seeing the Matterhorn under construction. It looked so impressive that it became almost the sole motivation for the third trip there a couple of years later, a trip that was enhanced by the new Submarine Voyage, which seemed amazingly real, and the Monorail, which signaled an amazing future in transportation – in Europe and Japan.

A drama unfolded outside the park on one of these first two visits. We stayed at the Alpine Inn on Katella Avenue, which is still in operation. Even though I couldn’t swim there was no way I could resist going in their pool, ostensibly to play in the shallow end. For some reason I convinced myself that somehow I had taught myself how to actually swim across the pool, no matter the depth of the water. I summoned my dad to watch this crossing, which I attempted in water deeper than I could stand in. Something went wrong about 3/4 of the way across the pool and I began to flounder, sputter and sink. I can still recall the wave of panic when I slipped below the surface. A couple of seconds later a hand grabbed hold of me and pulled me up and to the edge. I looked up into my dad’s face as he said, “Nice try, son; but it’s time to get out.” I didn’t object.

I’m sure there are a few rides that came and went in between my visits over the years, but the list of attractions that I haven’t seen at Disneyland is probably a single-digit number. News of something new at the park almost always prompted another visit, such as trip from college in the spring of 1967 to see New Orleans Square and the latest E-ticket ride, Pirates of the Caribbean, for the first time.

Speaking of E-ticket rides (Disneyland called them coupons), it didn’t take too many visits before the A and B-tickets began to go unused and the D and E-tickets were in short supply. When my young family first went to Disneyland in 1982 and discovered that visitors could enter the park for one admission price and ride anything and everything as often as desired, it seemed too good to be true.

As my children got older and I drew closer to being the man my dad was while sitting on that park bench, I felt the need to identify “rest stops” that didn’t look like rest stops. It didn’t take long to designate “It’s a Small World” for that purpose. Sitting in those slow-moving boats, dragging my hand in the cool water as we coasted along through country after country of singing dolls was a perfect 15-minute, afternoon respite – though there was a steep price to be paid. The price of that little open-eyed siesta was having that song repeat itself in my head over and over for the next week. “It’s a small world after all; it’s a small world after all; it’s a small, small world.” That song was big enough to fill my small, small mind.

Long-time Disneyland visitors know that song isn’t the only instance of what has been variously dubbed "repetunitis", "stuck tune syndrome", or "melodymania." In the late 60s and early 70s, a trip to the General Electric Carousel of Progress in Tomorrowland would produce the same semi-pleasant, mind-numbing effect (I understand the GE Carousel is still operating at Disney World). The repeated tune in this attraction is actually a pretty good theme song for the Disney experience – the hope for a happier and more magical kingdom in the world, where children and adults can retreat for a day or two and just enjoy each other’s company. The Carousel promised us that:

"There's a great, big beautiful tomorrow shining at the end of every day; there's a great, big, beautiful tomorrow, and tomorrow's just a dream away."

Thanks, Walt.