Monday, February 11, 2008

The Vermin Is Perpetually Amusing

There was an article in The New York Times (long read) yesterday about Disney’s ability to keep us amused now and in the future. The article goes into the economy, people’s shrinking patience for standing in lines, and the decrease in “wonder” due to advances in personal technology. The articles conclusions are all wrong. The one thing it does get right is that as its theme parks go, so goes Disney. I try to be as empirical and as analytical as I can be. I’m cynical, skeptical, and convinced of man’s basic worthlessness. On a day to day basis my favorite place is on my couch in front of the television. I hate crowds because crowds lead to waiting. But while the Magic Kingdom* may not be a kingdom it is definitely magical. If I never set foot in a Busch Gardens or a Six Flags again I won’t miss it. Amusement Parks suck as a rule, but one of my great joys is stepping through the gates of the Magic Kingdom and out on to Main Street. It’s transcendental. I’m happy at that moment. I’m six-year-old-kid-got-the-exact-bike-he-wanted-on-his-birthday happy. I enjoy the other Disneyworld parks, but not like the Magic Kingdom. It hasn’t changed since my first time there in 1978. There’s nothing special about it. It’s anachronistic in its constancy, which is what makes it so cool. I’m surrounded by up to a million strangers but I feel comfortable. LMJ’s first favorite song is from a Mousercise CD MJ used when she was an extended day teacher, at an extended privilege private elementary school, to keep the four and five year olds active more than a decade ago. This makes me happy because while LMJ was still just a gleam in her daddy’s eye, one of the things I look forward to the most is exposing her to more and more Disney as she grows up; letting her get acclimated to the fantasy world that exists on the stereo and the television, and then passing the stroller and locker rentals with a three-to-five year old LMJ, stepping into the sun, and BAM!!! it’s all real sweetie, it’s all real. Where is LMJ going to pre-school? I don’t have a clue. When is her next doctor’s appointment? It’s written on a card somewhere – I think. What’s planned for her first trip to Disneyworld? The only thing I don’t know is a specific date. I don’t think it will be magical or transcendental for her the first time, and she’ll be annoyed about “wasting” her weekend/spring break with her parents when she’s a teen, but when she’s in her late twenties she’ll go back – most likely with an exhaustively vetted significant other – and the magic will hit her. That’s why I’m not worried that a retarded stock analyst, which is redundant, has rated Disney as a “sell”. Disney will always be a big part of America, just like apple pie and guns.

* Disneyworld is made up of 4 main amusement parks, a bunch of hotels, and other attractions. When most people talk about "Disneyworld" they mean the Magic Kingdom. I'm just being specific.

4 comments:

Cora Spondence said...

Your sentimentality for the Magic Kingdom is comforting and sweet, for a few moments, I see you in your jammies running with arms outstretched towards Mickey, then with one swift motion, that last line brings me back to where you live. Fabulous.

DiaBelo said...

Last line is an exploding metaphor. Nicely put.

JSG said...

Apple pie and guns - isn't that an attraction in Frontierland, The Country Bear Jamboree?

You know we relate to this sentiment. And to experience it anew through the eyes of your child - you'll be going back to that first visit in 1978.

Anyone with a teen or tween knows they're not a sell. The company that masterminded the genius of Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana is here to stay. To take the untalented offspring of a one-hit crossover country has-been and make it a ticket that is hotter than the superbowl... that company knows how to work a balance sheet.

Cora Spondence said...

Dang! I need to comment on a comment--JSG, that last line, oh smooth and wondrous slapdown, slap up and snap it back with ultra-neat and fine hospital corners.