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I'm possibly the last guy you'd accuse of wearing rose-colored glasses at the
Disney parks. I often hear the reverse, in fact: too cranky, too picky, and too
jaded. I like to think I'm objective enough to recognize that every so often,
it's important to step back and take stock. Tunnel vision really can happen,
even when you're on the lookout to prevent it.
The Pirates League is new. $50 (or up to $150) for a Disney
makeover (versus a
mere $15 for the "Enjoy Your Face" external vendor who
operates out of Mickey's
Toontown Fair). I'd give a deeper review, but they
don't let you in the place without
paying, and some things are just too darn
expensive even for a Disney nut like me.
Normally I get jostled between optimism and pessimism just by nature of
visiting the parks. There are certainly downsides to the parks' current state:
stale rides, peeling paint, ever-higher prices, and often less-friendly
operational practices. But by no means do these negatives outweigh the
positives. I still go every week, and I still love the place. So I sway back and
forth between adulation and criticism.
That may not be obvious to you, the
reader, because I usually don't put too much of the over the top praise into the
articles. That's a personal bias of mine, because I think it can get boring to
read over and over again what a wonderful thing the parks are. I like going on
Space Mountain for the 87th time, or Spaceship Earth for the 224th
(for the record, no, I don't keep track of total rides… but those numbers are
probably realistic), but I don't think it would make for gripping reading. I
suppose I could point out the new stuff I see.
Premium fireworks viewing, for $17 (includes desserts)
Some of it is genuinely new (they no longer mention Lindsay Lohan when Herbie the Love Bug comes out on stage for Lights Motors Action), and some
is not all that new but I haven't seen it in a while so it's new to me (the
former Tomorrowland Indy Speedway is now just the Tomorrowland Speedway, and the
glossy maps on one queue wall have been re-done entirely with a new theme). There are even times I think something is new, only to head home and look and
photos from five years ago and realize I just never noticed it before.
This little well outside Germany is new, for use by Snow White
when taking photos.
But just because I don't include that kind of detail every week doesn't mean
I'm not noticing it. I do notice it. I re-discover the magic left behind by
Imagineers on an almost hourly basis when I'm in the parks. Nature lovers hike
out to a remote pine forest, revel in the solitude, and breathe deeply of the
environment. I do something similar in the theme parks. I stop, look
around--really look!--and let the moment overtake me.
This happened to me last week, for instance, when I found myself in the
waiting area (a tiny balcony) in front of Crystal Palace, a place I had never
before dined. There are literally only a handful of places I had never been, and
this was one of them. Going this time around was my test of
the new
online restaurant reservations system (click a park on the left side to see reservations options). In my
admittedly-small trial, the reservations system was flawless, convenient, and
way overdue. I'll be using that 100% of the time now.
But I was talking about the Crystal Palace. As we waited for our table, I
realized I had never stepped up to this little elevated waiting area before, and
it offered a rather nice view of the castle. So I stopped, and looked, and
appreciated. I was struck by the castle view a second time, when we finally
stepped out of the restaurant, gorged but happy, and I realized that the doors
opened up to an unobstructed view of the castle, so perfect as to make me wonder
if this had been planned.
Winnie the Pooh characters here are a pretty good fit. The
place is loud and echoing
--it reminded me of Disneyland's Plaza Inn, but
noisier--and the gentle nature of
the Pooh characters seemed just the right
match.
It's that kind of reverie and reflection which usually colors my reports and
hopefully provides a counterbalance to the criticism. But a story like this
month's tragedy on the monorail has a way of putting everything else into sharp
relief, and fast. It makes one realize that the chipped paint, the overcrowded
trashcans, and the overpriced trinkets really don't matter in the grand scheme
of things.
My report last week stuck to the facts, and I've been keeping the MiceChat thread updated as more news trickles out. But while the facts of the
story are important, I feel I also owe the deceased monorail pilot a moment of
silence. Details are still emerging, and likely will be for some time, but it
appears Austin Wuennenberg not only shoulders none of the blame, he appears to
have tried to prevent the accident. Here's to you, Austin.
When I next visited the Magic Kingdom, it was hard not to feel sad each time
a monorail came by. It was hard to see the seemingly-new scrapes on the
ferryboat-side of the EPCOT mainline, just thirty yards south of the TTC
platform, and not speculate that they were created during the accident.
The spur line to the left, the EPCOT mainline to the right. This photo is taken
just
north (after) the TTC, from the Magic Kingdom
Express mainline.
But the somber mood didn't last. Things in the park were as great as always,
and my mood lifted as the afternoon wore on. And then, a true moment of Disney
magic arrived. When you live here and visit literally every weekend, you don't
always find the same joy and exuberance that a once-a-year tourist feels, but we
got to experience that old giddiness again. What happened? We took my youngest
son for his first-ever haircut, and we did it in the Main Street barber shop.
It's a simple thing, really. At its heart, it's just a haircut ($17 for
adults, $14 for children), and nothing all that fancy (though I hear they will
colorize your hair on request, plus they have glitter and aren't scared to use
it!) And yet, it somehow manages to be a magical experience.
Maybe it's the
neatness of being *inside* a Disney park and performing a mundane activity such
as a haircut (the wheels of virtual reality and convincing simulation of a Main
Street turn on this very notion, in fact). Or maybe it's the congenial nature of
the hair cutter, something I've found I can't really take for granted at salons
and barber shops out in the real world.
When is a haircut more than just a haircut? When it's
"therapy"?
Or it could have been the fun way they
keep kids entertained. Our boy got a gigantic spool of Mickey stickers to keep
him occupied while the barber went to work. Amusingly, more such stickers were
used to "mop up" stray hairs on his shirt, and one was even used to seal up the
napkin containing the lock of baby hair!
Or maybe it's the extras they throw in for the first haircut. We got the lock
of baby hair without needing to ask for it, so one brownie point there. But when
Michal heard this was our boy's first haircut (he's almost three but was born
basically hairless, and grows hair extremely slowly), he sprung into action. The child got special mouse ears to keep, pre-embroidered with "First
Haircut" on them. And he got a certificate on thick paper, the
suitable for framing kind of thing.
It's just a little thing, but it makes all the difference.
We left more than satisfied. We left feeling somehow joyful, and we remarked
out loud that we don't often get to experience "Disney Magic" quite like that.
We see new stuff all the time, usually in the first weekend when it's open, and
the feeling isn't quite the same, so we knew it wasn't just "newness" that we
were reacting to. There was something to this.
I'm delighted that the barber shop is still there, taking customers until 5pm
daily. This is a management team here in Orlando that closed the Main Street
Cinema (there is admittedly still a kind of replacement elsewhere in Town
Square) to make room for a store, so it wouldn't be all that surprising if the
barber shop were to be replaced by a higher-volume, higher-profit kind of place
as well. But it hasn't been, and for that I'm grateful. I would have missed a
magical moment. And one I was quite willing to pay for!
Harmony Barber Shop. Before, it was just a name.
The barber shop was the perfect counterpart to the monorail tragedy.
Philosophers from Ancient Greece to India will point out the importance of
balance. I needed the barber shop.
I just didn't know how much I needed it until
after our visit.
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