The Not So Happiest Place On Earth

May 26, 2011
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Titanium white blotches splash the blue sky as the warm air rises in Orlando, Florida. Right out of the gate, you can see the giant blue and white castle in the distance, home to Cinderella. It looked much bigger the last time I saw it and possibly a bit more magical too. The swarm of people also bothered me this time too; I felt as if I was dropped at a huge rock concert centered in a dangerous mosh pit. About 3 years ago, I had believed that Disney World was the happiest place on earth. Now, it is just a huge mess of people and whiny kids trying to make their way to meet Mickey and Minnie. This was definitely the not so happiest place on earth.


The spoiled kids slump around the park with their parents at their sides, most of which haven’t met the height requirements for the majority of the rides. I came here 2 years in a row as a kid, with a freshly opened autograph book (which crunched as it was opened) and a thick blue pen topped with black mouse ears. My family and I would stomp around the park in search of every character in site. The photo album consists of countless pictures of my older brother, Frank, and I posed with the greats like Betty Boop, Pluto, Tigger, Winnie The Pooh, and many more. I remember that Frank always acted like a Debbie downer. He was already 12 when we went and had visited Disney when he was 4. Already, he had learned all the secrets and just wanted to go on all the thrilling rides.


The Great Walt Disney World is not dying. It just is not the same to go when you are 12 versus ages 4 through 8. Mom and Dad told me they went to Disney
before they got married. I don’t know how they enjoyed themselves at that age. Here I was pushing 15, and it is just not what I remember looking forward to so much a few years back.



Still, I try to care more about the happy memories. My dad would tell almost every ride attendant that it was my birthday, just so that we could ride front row. I truly never noticed how dirty it was. White paper mache was entangled with the wind, red paper Coca-Cola cups were spinning all over the park, and no matter how many times maintence came by with those brooms and scoop bins, paper mache would entangle again with the wind, red cola cups would spin throughout the park all over again.


We haven’t returned in years. I don’t really think about it or care as much as people would think. I really don’t. The once wonderful Walt Disney World just isn’t the same to me anymore. The humid air I once breathed in was no longer pleasant, just a pain. I pray those titanium white blotches will float over the sun and the parents would get a grip on their whiny children. Most of all, I wish that the way-too-happy-for-a-90-degree-day music blaring from Cinderella’s castle would accidently get muted all day. I’ve moved on to bigger and better things.





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