I have lived in Miami pretty much my entire life and thus I have also lived just three and a half hours away from the happiest place on earth. Yet prior to last weekend I’d only been once as a child. For Floridians this is confusing and people are often shocked by my lackluster attitude toward Disney World in general. Even more so when I explain that I haven’t actually been to Disney World as much as to just one corner of the world, Magic Kingdom, and that it was the absolute worse time of my life.
I must have been 8 or 9 when my father loaded twelve of us (my mother and two of my siblings along with assorted cousins and aunts) into a rented van at some eerily early moment of the morning. I know that at most the trip must have lasted four hours, but the drive seemed eternal. On the turnpike the darkness and the wilderness surrounding seemed never ending. Suddenly there were no more man-made structures besides the road we were on. Had it not been for the service stations every hour or so I was sure we were leaving civilization. When hunger set in my father, who for all intents and purposes is the cheapest man on earth, refused to buy anything. He had made my aunt pack sandwiches. Sweet ham sandwiches. Anyone who knows me knows my adversity toward sweet meats. I am not a fan of foods that are sweet that should be savory. Worse than that, though, the sandwiches had gone bad. The lunchmeat was covered in a slimy film and emanated a rancid smell. Still my father refused to buy anything. We did not eat that day, my siblings and I.
My memories of the actual park are vague, overall, but I do recall my jealously as I watched my cousin eat ice cream she’d been bought because she was too much of a wuss to ride Space Mountain. More jealousy came when witnessing more of my cousins ask for autographs in their official Disney autograph books, another thing my dad refused to buy. My sister, taking pity on me, searched a gift shop and bought me one too, but by the time it was in my hands, we didn’t run into another Disney character. Not until it was time to go at least. After two hours my father decided we’d had enough fun and began to herd us all toward the exit. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Pluto and my sister yelled, “Go Sarah Go!!” I ran to him, skipping in front of a long line of girls who yelled and complained as Pluto signed his name and gave me a hug. I still have that autograph book and Pluto remains close to my heart, but understandably Disney World not so much.
I returned just last weekend and I’ll be truthful, it was not bad. It did occur to me however that maybe it’s because the Magic Kingdom did not capture my heart as a child that there is always something missing, that essential piece of the Disney experience that makes it like magic on earth.
