I am a ravenous,
homeless, naked visitor of Disney and
I have experienced magic.
Will you please take my photo with Mickey?
I went to Disneyland for the first time. I wrote that poem in the lead up to the visit, just thinking about the crazy amount of money that it’s possible to spend for that experience. Now, post-trip, I’m finding that poem to be a pretty accurate account of the experience. There is truly no limit to the amount of money one can spend at Disney. Disney goes above and beyond above and beyond to make it so that there is no limit.
That said, I’m glad I experienced it. Even if I am poorer for it. And possibly sicker. (I’m definitely sick, but hard to say if Disney and its 348,288,228 strollers per capita are to blame.) (Okay, they’re probably to blame.)
I never imagined visiting Disneyland or Disney World in my lifetime. It’s never been a priority to me. But I guess I can appreciate it being a priority for other people. It’s fascinating how Disney isn’t just a culturally important thing–it’s a culture unto itself. I never felt drawn into that culture for whatever reason. But it’s definitely a thing. It’s like those people who go to Jimmy Buffet concerts and yell, “Salt! Salt! Salt!” Or serious Star Wars fans. Wait…that’s part of Disney now, too.
I don’t know what speaks to me in that way. Speaks to me strongly enough to make huge financial sacrifices for. And maybe that’s just as sad as being a ravenous, homeless, naked visitor of Disney. Because at least that person cares about something. Deeply. Consumingly.
Yeah. That’s the key word, huh? Consuming.
Do you think I’ll get in trouble for that drawing? I won’t apologize. That is exactly how I looked and felt! Mickey, too. It’s uncanny.