There was a time in my life, where I was a little anxious about the news.
I think it comes from watching too much of, well, the news. And perhaps all those scary movies when I was younger. And maybe if I’m honest, the Walking Dead. I can’t handle it anymore. I’m way too old.
Because it’s not the run of the mill, regular old fears that I find disturbing… but the totally irrational ones that play to my germaphobe overprotective helicopter mom tendencies. Like, bird flu. And mad cow disease. And that article I read in Parents Mag about the teenager who found a bat in his room, only to be bitten and not realize it = rabies.
I read something last week about a brain eating bacteria. They probably contracted it from eating cilantro and Blue Bell Ice cream. The fear is real. Last fall, when the media was in full blown over-coverage mode, I may or may not have been a step away from this:
Because while I’m the dork who carries hand sanitizer everywhere {along with oxygen masks, machetes, and MRE’s} it’s not really about getting sick. What concerns me, is the breakdown of society in all those stupid movies where people go bat crap cray and it’s a big free for all.
People are all, Snakes on a Plane meets vampire flesh eating redneck zombies, y’all. That’s when random, nondescript townspeople you’ve never seen before start freaking out and drive their car into a lamp pole. The lamp pole falls on the building catching it on fire with some gratuitous explosion a-la Michael Bay, and the building just so happens to be a mad scientist’s lab for cockroaches carrying the disease that can’t die, so they all escape into my house. Suddenly everyone is running around like World War Z and we’re allgonnadie.
No, this isn’t a plot for the latest Spiderman franchise starring Nicholas Cage. It’s the potential reality, and a quick assessment of the general lack of intelligence in society, that concerns me.
Oh wait. That panicking person would probably be me.
And then I realized I can totally chill, because I’ve received some serious training for it. More than once. I’m basically a Zombie killing ninja.
Total first world probs, but there’s something about traveling to The Happiest Place on Earth that makes most of the adults present lose their sense of dignity and self preservation. I don’t know if it’s the thousands of dollars, the heat, or all the sugar in the food that turns everyone into incoherent psychopaths. There’s like 95% of the park population that decides to completely lose it, while the other 5% just feels like they’re trying to survive. A shameless mix of wild stampedes and total lack of self composure. And I can’t decide if this is a vacay thing, or if people are always like this. In their daily lives.
Never fear. If you’ve been to Disney, you’ve been highly trained in the fine art of survival. And bonus points, if you’ve done it with a stroller, because that’s an even higher art form of functioning in wild crowds that are one step away from biting your face off and having a go at your brains. My one claim to fame is that I worked there in my college days and witnessed it first hand. Then I was able to return as a level 1 expert when I navigated it with our entire family.
Take heart, my garbage bag wearing, oxygen mask friends. Here’s how Disney preps us for the zombie apocalypse:
You can survive the stampedes.
Sure, full grown fifty-something year old woman who just couldn’t wait two seconds for us to put up our stroller so you hurdled it to get past us. Don’t mind us. Never mind that there wasn’t even a line. You go, with your fanny pack wearing self. Our bad, it really was our fault for merely existing in your determined line of vision and ultimate destination. We know you have important things to do, so go right ahead and jump on that carousel. We would really hate it if you missed out on your horsey ride. This is including your complete oblivion that you just knocked over my crying, toddler son. Or that you breathed down our necks for probably thirty seconds and body checked my husband who was pushing said stroller, until you decided to totally lose it and leap over our heads. Only you momentarily forgot that you’re not a professional pole vaulter, and you pretty much knocked us all to the side. No biggie. We would really hate it if you missed your favorite songs while you ride in a circle with sparkle lights.
Wheee!
There could be a serial killer on the lose, or Elsa has made an appearance in the park. Maybe Elsa is a serial killer. Maybe they’re just handing out 3D glasses for the next show. The reaction of the crowds is all the same. You better get out the way, because rules, common courtesy and cautiousness have officially flown the coop.
That group of full grown older adults with the childlike excitement and ensuing oblivion in their eyes compounded with that turkey leg and mickey pop they just digested is out of control. Their massive gang of full grown children, is about to knock you down and beat you to a bloody pulp if you sit too close to their twelve foot spot marked off for the fireworks and Electrical Parade. It’s totally their territory with one single man and a plethora of overpriced park rain panchoes marking their spot… never mind that fireworks are, oh, in the sky and that you can see them from well, everywhere. This is prime castle real estate and they will cut you.
Hope you brought everyone’s bicycle helmets. You’re gonna need ’em.
You can fight mind control. Kind of.
You know what it’s like to have someone try and control you. So that means you can fight the new regime after the fall of America, when people are trading their farm animals for basic human rights, and you have nothing because you were a suburbanite. Only it’s not the head honcho with weird post-apocalyptic horns in his ears and a purple mohawk who goes by the name of Jared.
Because the mind controllers this time, are your kids.
Step into the store, and try to resist all of the {piped in} smells, bright beautiful colors, and serendipitous music. Your child, your heart, who you love with all your being, wants an autograph book for their predetermined souvie. And if you buy Joni an autograph book, that means you also need to get Mikey and Julie their own autograph books. Nevermind that they’re oh, about twenty bucks a pop, and that 20 x 3 is 60. At least, last time you checked.
Or that now that you’ve agreed to purchase them, you look down and they’re asking you for a matching pen. You didn’t bring pens, and these are multicolored, 10 dollar pens. Times 3 = 30 more. For the moment you’re caught up in sheer nostalgia and the blatant fact that you always wanted one of those mickey mouse pens that your neighbor had. But your {rational} parents always said no, so now you’re doing the classic overcompensation thing.
It’s cool, kids. We can’t afford gas home, let alone your college educations. But let’s lose our ever-loving minds and last shred of dignity, to spend 90 bucks on character filled pens and paper. Never mind that you didn’t read that post via that pinterest thing your friend was telling you about for DIY books because really, they’re kinda lame and you like spending 90 bucks on absolutely nothing.
Cue the rationalizing.
And the best part? You get to stand in line some more, to have said books signed by some obscure worker in a sweaty costume after waiting for thirty minutes, each time. While you could be riding Tower of Terror you’re staring at the back of Mary Poppins’ head, instead. You came for memories, and you’re gonna make them, dangit. We won’t even tell you how long we waited for Elsa. It’s shameful.
You tried. And YOLO. And STOPJUDGINGME.
These are treasured memories stuffed in a drawer when you get home. Oh, parenthood.
You can fight absolute exhaustion.
If you’re on the run in a blood-stained camper for weeks on end, hiding out in obscure quarries listening to radio signals while you take turns with a bunch of randos on zombie watch, you can make it. You’ve been trained to combat the absolute boundaries of exhaustion which include mindless shuffling from one end of the park, to another, on limited sleep with endless loops of Splash Mountain because that’s Joni’s favorite ride.
Said exhaustion {from sheer joy, mind you} only compounds itself as each day passes. So by the time you return home, you basically need a vacay from that vacay.
For our first trip, we had littles in strollers and that was adorable because we could go back to the room and nap. All was right in the world, and though there were still meltdowns, we took that as our cue to hop on the monorail and go back to our overpriced room we were able to score on discount.
::pats self on head::
For the second trip, we were in that delicate age of naps don’t exist, compounded with those magical hours for on-property guests, except we skipped the monorail resort on ill advised choices, and we basically stayed in a glorified trailer. This included a forty five minute trip one way. That’s assuming we didn’t get lost in the dark with poorly marked trails on our overpriced but oh so essential rental golf cart in the freezing February rain. Winning!
So our kids were old enough but not quite. They walked around with dull, orb-like glassy stares which we complemented with our constant stumbles of spent exhaustion. But we were determined. We spent money on this. We will enjoy it. Mount the battle horses, because we’re going for the full monte. For Narrrniaaaaaa!
Zombie-watch all nighters? Piece of cake.
Eat All the things!
You can survive the food.
Pig snouts and pickled eggs you salvage at the local grocery after the latest store raid, are no biggie in the post apocalyptical zombie era. You were trained on Turkey legs at the Disney parks, and let’s just say the grease conditioned your system. Even when you couldn’t quite find a bathroom.
Take it from us, it doesn’t matter what you eat or that you’ll need a total detox after this, because you paid for that freaking meal plan, and you will eat all the things.
It doesn’t matter that people warned you not to do this. If you’re going to do Disney, you’re going to do it right, and that includes adding 2k onto your final price, just so you can eat mystery meals filled with screaming children and exhausted parents.
They didn’t have the freebie plan when you went because you were trying to avoid international holidays where the crowds allow for one arm’s width of walking space and in your mind, it was a trade off. So you don’t give a flying rip that someone smarter than you brought their kale chips in baggies to hand out on park breaks, and then shared it on Facebook. Reminding yourself that it would have been miserable to stare at people with their amazing ice cream concoctions while you crunch on the equivalent of dried fish farts, this is totally worth it.
You are at Disney, and you will celebrate.
Even if it pushes your body to the brink of diabetes and scary high blood sugar levels compounded with stress, while you sweat Dole Whips for the rest of the park experience. At least you got your money’s worth. And by money’s worth, we mean you also traded in two of those meals just so you could eat in Cinderella’s castle while people walk around and interrupt your semi-satisfactory steak and mushroom ravioli experience that costs about 300 bucks in real life, just so you can take photos and wait patiently while said autograph books are signed.
Three. Times. Each.
90 dollars… and so much more… well spent.
I do what I want, haters gonna hate, clogged arteries FTW.
____________
Take heart, Disney gluttony survivors. You’ve been conditioned for this. Your money, total exhaustion and lack of self control all went to a good cause. Beyond the memories to bring you solace when you’re huddled in a dark corner that smells like rat pee while the military nukes the city of Atlanta. When the dust settles and the new world order is established where people start keeping heads in fish tanks, you can take those psychopaths. Especially the purple mohawk Jareds of the world. He’s basically your new minion.
BEST.POST.EVER.
So many hilarious truths in one place. Thank you.
So much truth about one of my favorite places on earth!!! We love the chaos so much that we’re DVC members. Bwahahaha!
Of course that means that we take it ridiculously easy because we know we’ll be back soon. BTW Haunted Mansion is great to nap on. LOL
Amazing!!! It is a great training ground. Just getting on and off the monorail can be life or death. Love this post.
The autograph books! The bane of my existence! I almost lost coffee out of my nose!
For more training on survival you can go to Knotts Berry farm at Halloween!! All sorts of creatures roam the streets and teach you to NOT panic when in the presence of the unexpected.
And did you know that there are Zombie camps for kids now?! They teach survival skills and half of the kids get to be zombies and the other half the survivors! They are very popular!
This is hilarious!!! Thank you thank you thank you for letting me know I’m not alone!