Ah, Disney World, the most Magical Place on Earth. Where your inner child can experience those stories close to your heart, where you can meet the likes of Donald Duck, any princess you can imagine, and Kylo Ren. The parks are magical, fun, exciting, etc. And it touches something in all of us, young and old, to experience that magic once again.
"You're dead if you aim only for kids. Adults are only kids grown up, anyway." - Walt Disney
Disney wanted to create a place for parents and children to experience together— he believed that there is a child in all of us waiting to be let out again. Little did he know that the child in all of us still behaves like a brat.
The main thing I think adults dread when going to Disney is experiencing a random kid having a catastrophic meltdown. We all know what that’s like; you might even be cringing thinking about it. But Disney helps all of us be children again, including the meltdowns, tantrums, and crash-outs.
I recently went to Magic Kingdom and Animal Kingdom with my family. We are Disney pros, Annual Passholders, have gone to the parks countless times, etc— and we still find ourselves falling into this trap. Everyone has a meltdown at Disney; it’s unavoidable, but they make great stories.
You May Get Wet…
Like any proper Disney-goers, we “rope-dropped” the park (getting there right when it opens), and because I was on a mission to ride Tiana’s Bayou Adventure, we made a beeline to that attraction. I love this ride. The anamatronics, the music, the DROP— it’s stunning.
Our family of five boarded our log flume— almost filling it up entirely. My sister and I, pictured above, got the front row. I knew beforehand that we were going on this ride, so I planned accordingly by wearing clothes that could dry relatively quickly. My sister did not know.
We got soaked. You already knew where this was going. And when I say soaked, I mean like bra/panties and socks were obliterated as well. I have never seen that big of a wave cascade into the log— and I’ve gotten drenched on this ride before. But no, this was so incredibly different.
Que crash out number one: in our shock, I look over at my sister who is toeing the line of crying— not in a boo-hoo way, but in a oh-god-I’m-overwhelmed-and-SO-WET way. It was shocking how drenched we got— the rest of my family was pretty dry, but us? Destroyed. My sister wore jeans, and wearing wet jeans sucks, so after being overwhelmed, she was pissed. I am giggling thinking about it because it was so fucking funny.
She and my mother went to find pants to wear for the rest of the day. Que crash out number 2, none of the stores they stopped in had pants. Or they only had kids’ pants. For the rest of the trip, we got to tease her whenever we saw pants at any store because she couldn’t find them.
Hangry Girls Kill People
Avoiding crowds during lunch hour at Disney is virtually impossible. In our best attempt to dodge the thousands of children and keep the Hanger Demons at bay, we typically break for lunch in the early afternoon. Sometimes we miscalculate. We did miscalculate.
We had a reservation at 3 pm. Which might not seem bad, but we made the mistake of not snacking. That’s devastating. We should have had a snack at 11 or noon, but we made that splendid mistake. So que us being chippy at each other during the early afternoon. We were all moody and silent, waiting waiting waiting, for our reservation.
Don’t do this. Yes, getting a late afternoon lunch is a great idea, but for the love of god, eat something other than fucking waffles at 10 am.
You Scream, I Scream, Eat the Damn Ice Cream
This next crash-out should have never happened. For the entire day, my sister and I have talked about getting ice cream. Ice cream and Disney are synonymous; it’s what you do. So we piled like sardines on a hot summer day outside the Plaza Ice Cream Parlor, excitedly discussing what we would order. My mother joined in the fun; she wanted a chocolate fudge sundae, with all the fixings.
We finally made it to the register after what felt like four years in the Florida sun. I ordered first, my sister second, and my mom… says she doesn’t want anything. My sister and I pleaded with Mom to order what she previously told us she wanted, but she insisted on not ordering anything. We chalked it up to her being weird, but whatever, it’s her choice. We pay, we get our ice cream, and my mother wants to kill us all.
She wanted the fucking ice cream.
I’m rubbing my temples while writing this. My mother, when hangry, is a Godzilla-level threat. We went to sit down, but she didn’t want to; she wanted to just go home. We tried to find a shaded spot, but she hated it. She was too hot, but also not hot, and definitely NOT grumpy. That’s the worst bit, she never admitted she wanted the ice cream, but we could all tell.
I don’t know why she didn’t order the damn ice cream.
We sat down, in the shade, and I made the greatest sacrifice— I gave her my ice cream. I would rather have a peaceful drive home than Godzilla in the backseat. Was I snippy about it? Yes, but I still did it, so I hope that counts for something.
Never Mess with Someone’s Diet Coke
It’s very easy to get dehydrated at Disney, and espeically at Animal Kingdom. With all the wildlife and lack of shade, it’s very hot and humid. To combat dehydration, my family drinks at least a hundred ounces of Diet Coke whenever they are in the parks. Diet Cokes are very sacred to us— you do not mess with our Diet Cokes.
In the midday sun, I started to get thirsty and decided to stop at a booth to buy a Powerade (you soooo thought I was going to say Diet Coke, didn’t you?). My sister wanted a drink too, so she joined me. We looked back at my family and asked if anyone wanted anything. My mother said no, my father said nothing, my BIL said he’d steal from my sister.
So we went to the booth, got our drinks, and headed towards the next attraction. It was about, I don’t know, five whole minutes before my father said, “Where’s my Diet Coke?”
We shot him an incredulous look, I’m sure. He never asked for one, actually, he never uttered a syllable when we asked. He huffed and puffed, saying that he wanted one, and it was stupid that we didn’t get him one. My dad has one major outburst every few times we go; he decided to die on this Diet Coke hill.
I told him I’ll go get one for him, there was no line, and we hadn’t drifted far from the booth. He told me, “No. I’m fine. I don’t want it.”
“It’ll take me just a second, I’ll go back.”
“No. I don’t care.” Audience, he did care, and his tone was very pissy.
“Dad, we can solve this pretty easily. I’m gonna go and get you one.”
“I said no.”
I decided to get in line anyways. He lumbers up to me and says, “If you buy one, I won’t even touch it. I won’t drink it. I don’t want it.” This tantrum has me personally gagged. Now it’s my turn.
“Dad, why are you throwing a tantrum? Let me buy you a Coke.”
“I’m not throwing a tantrum, YOU are.”
Brats, all of you!
Disney can be one of the most magical places, but it can bring out the little demon spawn in all of us. There is freedom in knowing that the crash outs are inevitable. I can plan the most perfect Disney day, and boom, someone’s hangry, or thirsty, or tired, and it happens outside of my control.
Even with these explosions, the days we spent at the parks were fun and very enjoyable. These blimps of annoyances pass, and we ride that wave.
Have grace with it, laugh about it if you can, and don’t forget to stay hydrated.
Sincerely,
Bloom and Jude