By Sue Murphy
Disney World is said to be the happiest place on earth, and that may be true, but I am here to testify that getting there may not be all that happy. I’d go so far as to say that the experience can be enough to make even Mickey go a little goofy.
Let’s take the typical Disney-bound family. We have Mom, Dad and their 2.5 children under the age of 8. They’ve been looking forward to this trip for months, perhaps years. The minute they booked the trip, the countdown began. Only five months until we go to Disney World. Only five weeks until we go. … Only five days. … It feels like it’s been Christmas Eve forever.
Dad locked in their pool-view hotel room last August. He signed up for the deluxe dining plan that includes a character breakfast with Donald Duck and one glorious night at the Hoop-De-Doo Revue. When the trip got closer, Mom scored Fast Passes for Dumbo and the must-do “Frozen” ride. The family even decided to splurge on a special fireworks dessert party extravaganza. It will be magical.
They are all very, very excited. They are also heavily invested. They plunked down a hefty hotel deposit. Their airline tickets are non-refundable. Their credit cards are straining under the weight of their new tennis shoes and bathing suits and a week’s worth of matching T-shirts.
Oh yes, they’ve been planning and saving and packing and hoping for months and months and months, but a lot can happen in those months. Perhaps – surprise! – there is a new baby in the family. (Make that 3.5 children.) They can still go to Disney World. A ride-on stroller and an added backpack of diapers? No problem. One month out, brother breaks his leg. That’s OK; they can still go to Disney World. One person pushes the stroller, the other the wheelchair. It’ll work. One week out, little sister comes home from preschool with pink eye, but they can still go to Disney World. They’ll just make sure she doesn’t share a pillow with anyone, or touch any of the handrails or … no, really, it will be OK. The night before they are to leave, somebody throws up, but, hey, they still can go to Disney World. They were probably just overly excited, right?
So here we are at the gate. The now-larger, hobbling, infectious family is cued to board along with five other families in their own matching T-shirts. They are, every one of them, so excited they are ready to burst.
Not so excited are the non-Disney fliers, the businessmen and women who are headed to Miami via Orlando for a biotech convention. These hardy souls take their aisle seats stoically, preparing to be whacked in the head by every passing backpack. And there are a lot of them. Did I forget to mention the 20 12-year-olds winging their way to Orlando for a cheerleading competition? Handstands and hair bows and headsets, oh my! So do not judge when these non-Disney fliers whip out their credit cards for a vodka tonic at nine in the morning.
The flight attendants have no such solace. They stand by with their bags of pretzels because they know someone will have a peanut allergy. There will be spills. There will be wailing, and when the plane finally lands, the lavatory trash can will be overflowing with Pampers. Welcome to Orlando.
From Birmingham, the flight only lasts an hour and a half, thank goodness. Seven days later, these passengers will return spent, in more ways than one, but it will be worth it. I mean, it’s Disney.
