Disneylanding

Yes, I have turned an iconic landmark into a verb.  To “Disneyland” is to visit the Magic Kingdom with a certain sense of awareness.  There are so many sights, sounds, and smells that contribute to not just a trip to an amusement park, but to an entire experience that is un-measureable in any way.  One who goes Disneylanding is a seasoned veteran who is able to deftly maneuver double wide strollers while efficiently checking off every attraction on the To-Do List.  A true Disneylander knows where the shortest lines are, how to get the best seat for Fantasmic, and that a smile means friendship to everyone.

I am a Disneylander.  Some people find it odd that I trek down I-5 two to four times each year “just to go to Disneyland.”  Personally, I find it odd when I hear that people haven’t been toDisneyland since they were a child.  The most obvious beauty of Disneylandis that it is timeless and there is something there for everyone.  Many people offer the same tired sentiment; that it’s “for kids” or that there’s no reason to go as an adult.  I say Hogwash!  Sure there are some rides in Fantasyland that you barely squeeze into once you become an adult, and maybe the buildings don’t seem as majestic as you remember, but every age you go, you can surely find something that interests you.

Disneyland is the great equalizer.  Check out this lineup: Yoga-pant-wearing-granola-eating-Zumba-soccer-mom, Beefcake-Tap-Out-shirt-Weightlifter-Bro, Starved-for-attention-teenager-with-too-much-eyeliner-and-not-enough-clothes, and Fanny-Pack-toting-Grandma.  What do they all have in common?  Nothing, except for when they step through the turnstile of America’s most beloved Park.  Grandma remembers the days of E-Tickets and the Golden Horseshoe Revue, Beefcake is skipping with his son wearing Goofy ears, and Yoga mom is chowing down a corndog, NOT logging into her MyFitnessPal Account.  Slutty teen is still a stretch, as she struts around with her Tinkerbell wings, but hey, they can all stand in line harmoniously while they wait to explore the Templeof the Forbidden Eye.

Of course, you have to go at the right time, and with the right group of people.  My dear sister, who was already on the “I Don’t Think I Like Disneyland” train went with eight other people during Spring Break.  The lines were long, the weather was sticky and hot, and they didn’t have a Disneylander guiding them through the park.  She’s ruined.  Scarred for life.  The only chance my nephews will have of living a normal (Annual Trips toDisneyland) life will be because of Aunties the Savior.  I will ride into town with my Indiana Jones Fedora and whisk them off to a land of magic and imagination every chance I can get!

I once met up with a friend who complained the whole time about the obnoxious foreigners, the silly way the Cast Members spoke to us, and of all things, the fact that people waited in line to take a picture with a mouse.  So jaded.  Someone didn’t read her enough Golden Book stories as a child, I suppose.

But I digress, Disneylanding is an art where you skilfully trek the park collecting Fast Passes, you enjoy parades and shows while eating (killing two birds with one corndog), you think to use the Disneyland Railroad as a rest/ride (genius!)when you’re a little pooped, and of course, knowing when to take advantage of short lines while the masses are oohing and aahing over World of Color (don’t waste your time, it’s awful.  Even Imagineers screw up once in a while I suppose).  I have often promised people an experience they will never forget, and wonderful, exciting things they never knew existed.  I’ll even splurge on a Churro AND a Dole Whip Float for them.  In turn they must promise me three important things; Two days (yes that’s all it takes), comfortable shoes, and an open mind.  The last one is usually easier said than done.

I wish this blog had more structure, I feel as if I am rambling here, but I am leaving for the Magic Kingdom in approximately eight hours, and even though I was just there four months ago, I am getting bouncy and giddy, much like the brother and sister in the commercial who claim “We’re too excited to sleep!”  I have to decide between my Classic mouse ears and the furry Fantasia Mickey set.  I am wondering if the Skipper that I get on the Jungle Cruise will be any good.  I am making a mental checklist of all the delicious treats that I am going to have to spread out over the course of two days.  I love every minute of Disneylanding, and if you know what’s best for you, your next vacation will be to The Happiest Place on Earth!

 

 

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The First Blog is the Shallowest

When entering the Blogging World, how does one decide where to start ?  You read through tons of thought provoking or witty threads hoping to find some inspiration, without becoming a copycat.  The more you read about someone’s deep emotional journey or their fiery political crusade, the less adequate you feel with your vocabulary and vernacular.  I feel intimidated by the seemingly confident bloggers out there in Cyberspace tackling issues ranging from Music Reviews to Iraq Service Time Reflections.  How am I supposed to compare to that?

I guess I’m not.  I am me; a silly, somewhat well rounded, simple thinker, and I think its okay that my writing will reflect that.  I want to write about the Joys of Disneyland, the struggles of working on my golf game, and the camaraderie that is created when you slip a funny movie quote into conversation at a bar.  These are the things that intrigue me.  This is the stuff that makes me grin with joy, and sit back with a smile.

As a child, my imagination soared, as I wrote great little shorts about girls in trendy outfits and with cool names.  Think “Babysitter’s Club.”  It was so easy to let the pencil go and just write a story about something I imagined to be true.  As an adult, it’s so much more difficult to let the pencil run free.  I don’t know about you, but I constantly worry that a friend or family member (often the root of my inspiration) may interpret my creative garble as a stab at them, or worse, recognize themselves in a dramatically over exaggerated tale of debauchery or poor moral compass.  Can we ever truly let go of those insecurities (or general overkill of regard for other’s feelings) and just let it out?  Great, now I’m pulling a Carrie Bradshaw.  If the shoe fits….

Please enjoy my journey as I rediscover my writing voice and ponder the simplicities of life.  Or skip it, your golf game could probably use some work.