Oh, Mickey, What a Pity

I may have the only kids in America who don’t go gaga over Disney World.

After a recent five-night stay in the “happiest place on earth,” I realized that my children have much different happiness criteria than the Mickey Mouse-and-rollercoasters recipe that floated my boat three decades ago. Yes, they enjoyed Space Mountain, shooting targets with Buzz Lightyear and eating popcorn at 11 o’clock at night while watching fireworks. But for them, Disney World wasn’t the dreamy, end-all vacation it had been for me when my parents took me at age 10. Besides the fact that Disney is now competing with high-tech video games and lowered attention spans, why was the experience so different for my kids?

Full disclosure: When we visited Mickey’s hood last month the temperature in Orlando, Florida, was close to 100 degrees, with 90 percent humidity. It was peak tourist season, so of course the lines to all the rides were excruciatingly long and the restaurants overflowing, despite our savvy use of FastPass (a great new service for those who like planning ahead) and online dinner reservations. But those weren’t the deal breakers for my kids, ages 11 and 8. Sure, they bitched and moaned about the heat and the crowds. But the real complaints were about stuff I never anticipated.

“But, Mom—the landfills!” First, my environmentally correct daughter (who, not coincidentally, attends a progressive grammar school in San Francisco), couldn’t get over the fact that Disney doesn’t compost. Yes, there were recycling bins and garbage cans everywhere. But to her, having to throw paper plates and leftover Minnie Mouse pancakes in the garbage was the equivalent of drowning kittens. On the up side, the restaurants offered healthier dietary options than I had expected—everything from salmon salads to oatmeal—at least on the adult menus. It’s just too bad leftovers were relegated to the trash.

“Why do they think we eat only chicken fingers?” As I mentioned, my husband and I had some pretty good food at the theme parks, from fresh fish tacos in Epcot’s Mexico to a yummy salmon BLT at the Sci-Fi Dine-In Theater at Disney’s Hollywood Studios. Although the children’s menus were better than they were when I visited as a kid, most were dominated by the old standbys, including hamburgers, fried chicken, mac-and-cheese and, of course, fries. As to be expected, soda and other sugary drinks were everywhere. In the end, I succumbed to letting the kids order one too many root beers. But hey, we were on vacation. As for me, I consumed mostly healthy stuff, including a delicious “antioxidant” sangria at an African-themed eatery in the Animal Kingdom Resort. I was a happy camper that night.

“Why are the workers grumpier than, well, Grumpy?” Some of the Disney employees seemed not so happy. A few, like our tour guide on the Animal Kingdom safari ride, were charismatic and lively. But other staffers appeared to be drained of energy and enthusiasm. I’m sure the weather got to them too—after all, wearing a long-sleeved, polyester Indiana Jones costume in the sweltering heat has gotta be painful. But a few “cast members,” as Disney calls its employees, were downright grouchy or disconnected. Several distractedly barked orders (“I need to SEE you pull on your seat buckle, people!”) and overall, genuine smiles and eye contact were scarce. At Hollywood Studios, we spent 30 minutes in an outdoor amphitheater waiting for a stunt show to begin, while an employee with an irritating voice yelled at us, at least 20 times, to “please move ALL the way down to the end of your row!” We were so tightly packed there was nowhere to go, but she continued screaming while my son covered his ears. There was one character whose less-than-cordial attitude was tolerable: one of Cinderella’s stepsisters, who was walking by us with her “family” as I commented, “Oh, that’s Cinderella’s wicked stepmother.” The character turned to us and screeched, “My mother is NOT WICKED!” Good thing I didn’t call that one out as the “ugly stepsister.”

“Why are the mean to moms?” If you’ve been to Disney lately, you probably noticed there are more guests than ever before riding around in the park in rented electric scooters, otherwise known as an electric convenience vehicles. If you show up at a ride or at the shuttle bus in an EVC, you are permitted to head to the front of the queue and board the bus via a lowered ramp. Many of these guests have physical challenges, so it’s great that they are able to do this. However, you’d think Disney would extend that courtesy to moms with strollers. Late one night, as we waited for the shuttle to take us back to our hotel, we watched as a young mom with two sleeping infants in a double stroller asked the bus driver if she could use the ramp after the EVCs had boarded, so as not to wake her babies. No, he said, the ramps were for EVCs only, not strollers, and he sent her back to the end of the line. We watched, horrified, as this woman unbuckled her babies, who immediately woke up and began crying, and handed them over to complete strangers so that she could wrestle with this huge stroller, fold it up and carry it up the steps. Meanwhile, one of the people in the electric chairs who had already boarded was now “moving freely about the cabin,” roaming around the bus and looking out the window to see what was going on. Hmmm.

“Why does that lady have a mullet?” During a visit to one of Epcot’s older attractions, even my kids noticed some things were a little dated. Ellen’s Energy Adventure still features a 1996 short film starring a young Ellen DeGeneres and Bill Nye the Science Guy—remember his wacky experiments? Ellen’s sporting a mullet, a haircut that was out of fashion even back in 1996, and co-stars Jamie Lee Curtis and Jeopardy host Alex Trebek have not a single gray hair on their heads. Which left us wondering, how up-to-date are all the facts these people just rattled off about energy and the earth’s natural resources? Later, I was excited to take the children into the Wheel of Progress, a trip back in time that explores how technology’s changed through the decades. This attraction fascinated me when I was a kid: “They really had ice boxes at the turn of the century?!” “Seriously, there were no TVs when your grandma was born, Mom?!” But in the last scene, the “modern” female robot is wearing leg warmers and a Flash Dance-style sweatshirt, and the computer that’s touted as the latest in technology resembled an Apple 2C. We know the 1980s are back in style, but this is a little sloppy, Mickey.

“Why does every souvenir have to have mouse ears?” As to be expected, Disney merchandise is sold in every nook and cranny throughout the theme parks, with the ubiquitous mouse ears (or one of the many popular Disney characters) emblazoned on everything from salt-and-pepper shakers to pajamas. A few stores were peddling some non-licensed clothing items and home goods, but that stuff was few and far between. I searched at least 20 shops for a logo- and character-free tote bag, to no avail. And my daughter really wanted to buy a piece of costume jewelry that didn’t have a mouse or princess theme, but we couldn’t find that either at the Magic Kingdom. I guess you can’t blame the company for its aggressive marketing. But that’s why Epcot is my favorite part of Disney World: One store there offers a beautifully edited selection of Japanese-made products, while a shop in “Morocco” sells pretty authentic jewelry and clothes.

“Why won’t anyone resuscitate Mickey?” A creepy incident occurred the day we visited Animal Kingdom. On one of the paved walkways, we noticed a crowd gathered around a rather large field mouse that had been badly injured (probably by one of those electric chairs). My kids, along with some other children, were on the verge of tears. I ran to the nearest ride and told an employee about the mouse. A minute later she was on the phone reporting to “headquarters” that they needed to take care of a dead rodent. “No,” my husband told her, “it’s definitely still breathing.” She said not a word. Then I noticed—irony of all ironies—that we were standing just a few meters away from the Disney animal rescue center! We ran over, and saw there was real medical equipment on hand, as well as a real-life veterinarian who was giving a talk to guests about how Disney nurses injured wild animals back to health! Encouraged by this serendipitous chain of events, my kids mentioned the dying mouse to a couple more employees, who assured us that “someone will take care of it” but did not move an inch from where they were standing. The children were depressed the rest of the afternoon and asked us at least a dozen times what we thought happened to the rodent. “Don’t worry, sweeties,” I lied. “I’m sure the rescue people are giving him mouth-to-mouth as we speak.” In my opinion, mice at Disney World should be treated with the same respect bestowed upon cows in India. Shame on you, Disney, for not at least making an effort, for the kids’ sake.

So maybe my children (and come to think of it, my husband and I) are just not Disney people. And I’m certainly not telling anyone to skip what other Americans consider a bucket-list experience. My advice would be to go when the summer crowds have dissipated. When the employees don’t mind wearing long pants. When they’ve invested in some compost bins. And when they’ve trained their employees in mouse CPR.