I wrote this last year for a class with Sarah White. It was something I wrote that I actually kind of liked and that other people liked too, so I figured I’d cheat the system, revise it a bit, and hand it in to another class this semester. Frankly, writing about things that happened last summer would have turned into a hot mess or a personal my boyfriend-is-awesome-fest (which has a tendency to annoy other students), so I went with this. It needs more revisions, but what doesn't? While I write more to clear my head, I’ll let you read the revised version of this.
Note: the best notes I got back on the copies I handed out were, “I love your lists!” (I got several of those) and “What this really needs is SEX!!!”
After working in Disney World for four years, the magic starts to run thin. When you’re going to Disney with your parents who are going through a divorce after years of my mother putting up with my father’s abuses, the magic is pretty much nonexistent. At any rate, I was less than enthusiastic about the whole vacation at my workplace thing. I knew it was going to be hard to muster excitement about much of anything this trip.
It was going to be even worse since it takes something major to make me excited about Disney World like guests do. Disney World guests get excited for seemingly no reason at times. Most recently, my mom started praising Disney World Imagineers for making the sand cold when it touched her foot. That’s the kind of magic that just makes me smile and nod. In spite of, or maybe because of, all of the Disney magic, it was hard for me not to get skeptical. When you’re a cast member, you quickly learn a few things:
1. Guests turn their brains off when they go to Disney World.
Example: I am a Jungle Cruise Skipper. That means my job in Disney World, in layman’s terms, is to drive around in a boat and tell bad jokes to people (spieling). One time, while I was spieling in a rain storm, I was running out of jokes for filler material. I asked, “Are there any questions?” A woman raised her hand and asked—in all seriousness, mind you, “Why is it raining?” I was a little confused, so I asked if she could expand on that. She rolled her eyes at me. “You know, the rain? Here on the Jungle Cruise? Why is it raining?” I blinked and answered, “Well, ma’am, I think the clouds got a little too heavy for the water that they were carrying.”
“Well,” she said, “it’s your fault.”
2. The “three o’clock parade” is a ridiculously difficult concept to grasp.
Example: The day parade starts at 3:00 pm on Main Street, USA, in the Magic Kingdom. People will walk up to cast members and ask, “What time is the three o’clock parade?” (Please see point number one.)
Our answer, of course, is, “Where do you plan on watching the parade?” That way, we stay magical while giving the guests information about when the parade will pass where they will be sitting. It’s a nice touch, but we loathe that question.
3. Cast members are expected, by guests, to know everything about Florida.
Example: Our nametags include our hometown or our college. Most of these nametags do not say anything that ends in FL. All the same, my first week on the job, I was asked for directions to the nearest Target. I found out later that it was about ten minutes away from the Magic Kingdom, but I had no idea at the time. Again, not knowing that I was ten minutes away from Target when my only voyage off property was on a bus with a very specific route was my fault.
4. Guest quickly becomes an insult.
Example: Do I really need an example? See 1-3. If you are still confused as to why guest would be an insult, then sadly, the insult probably applies to you. At best, you are on vacation in Disney and have temporarily lost your mind. That’s the only hope I have for you.
5. Disney ducks are a lot smarter than guests.
Example: This is probably my favorite of the rules since it’s actually something positive. Because guests are stupid, they think that “those poor ducks” don’t have a place to live. Or better yet, “these poor ducks” don’t get enough food. Those poor ducks get food from one out of every four guests. That is only including the guests who feed the ducks in spite of the ample signage that reminds guests not to feed the ducks.
Now, think of all of the kids who drop their popcorn. If the custodial cast members don’t get to it fast enough (which, considering all of the puking—I’m sorry, protein spilling, kids all over the parks, could happen), the ducks are more than happy to help clean up the popcorn.
In addition to this, ducks don’t talk back, they’re easy going, they have full reign of the parks, and they stop traffic. Because of this, cast members like ducks. We have several families of Jungle ducks, and any who come near the break tent are more than welcome. I am so fond of the Jungle ducks that every duck I have owned has been named after something Jungle Cruise related simply to keep my connection to those clever ducks. It also doesn’t hurt that my ducks, knowing where their names came from, will try to live up to my expectations. Even outside of Disney, ducks don’t disappoint.
As a seasoned skipper, and, therefore, an expert in snark, I took these truths to heart, and nothing was going to change my mind. Granted, guests see Disney as a magical place, but for cast members, you are the other side of the magic. You get your Disney jollies from watching the guests and from being with other cast members who get the fact that without you, there is no magic. So, dammit, be magical. It’s a lot of pressure—especially when you’re stuck catering to people who can’t get the idea of a three o’clock parade taking place, promptly and efficiently, at three o’clock pm.
The magical family journey of magical awkwardness and magically uncomfortable situations began at 4:30 am central time—again, magical. I was a little less than pleased when I heard that one of my sister Elaine’s punky high school friends would be going on our already hectic and awkward family vacation to Disney World. Little did I know that this girl, Caite, would remind me how magical my place of employment really is.
Her enthusiasm was obvious. This girl who had only known my family for a few hours started singing “Party in the USA” and dancing as soon as she opened her eyes. This set the tone for the entire trip. I stood stunned at her excitement. A sixteen year old girl was singing and dancing to a Miley Cyrus in my living room at that ungodly hour. My sister Elaine did not share Caite’s jour de vivre that early in the morning, let alone appreciate it, but even though Miley Cyrus can suck it, I decided to embarrass myself and sing along.
By the time we got to our hotel, Caite was still singing Miley Cyrus. By this point, I was already in a Disney state of mind. Everyone has a different idea of when they are “in Disney World.” When I was younger, it was simple, clear cut. Disney World begins when you walk through the Castle. I’m 21 now and a no-nonsense cast member, so the confines of Disney World are still simple and clear cut, but once you are on Disney property, you are in Disney World. No magical incantations once you see a pretty castle. You are as much in Disney World at a food place called Earl of Sandwich as you are standing inside that castle. But of course, first night in Disney, we went past the Magic Kingdom. My family and Caite got on a bus headed for the park, and got to a part of the road where you can see parts of the park nearby. I looked at the hotel on my right—Bay Lake Tower, the resort that they started working on when I first started working in Disney. It looks clean with straight lines. Strictly business. It’s been a part of Disney as long as I have, so it’s a landmark I bother to look at.
I heard a sudden gasp across the bus. Sure enough, it was Caite, and she had just seen the Castle for the first time. The gasp quickly turned into mini sobs, and she ran to my side of the moving bus. I felt her arms around my neck and her tears on my cheek.
“It’s so beautiful,” she said. I looked at the Castle, lit up in its Christmas glory, and, for the first time in a long time, it actually looked like something worthwhile.
“It sure is,” I said.
For Caite, the magic was in the moment. The magic was in the fact that she had a beautiful opportunity to see a place that so many people love and dream of. The magic was in the experience. For me, the magic was is Caite’s infectious excitement because of something that had long since become meaningless, something that had become a bad cliché. I guess sometimes seeing someone geeking out over magic can cancel out the guest-li-ness. The magic was in her gratitude for everything Disney that had just landed in her lap. I felt my eyes well up, and I repeated, “It sure is.”
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