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Day Two: Magic Kingdom

I spent the entire day with my parents in the Magic Kingdom, which I don't think I've done in at least 15 years. It was pretty nice, except for the part where my Dad got really weak and dizzy and we had to go get him a wheelchair and wheel him to the First Aid, where a no-nonsense nurse (who I could tell was from New York before I read her nametag) called some EMT's to take my dad's bloodsugar and do an EKG on him. As soon as they told him his sugar was normal, he started to feel better.

I was pissed as hell, though, because we stopped at the Main Street ice cream parlor on the way back from the wheelchair rental and questioned them, and discovered that they had served my dad a scoop of sugared ice cream, after he explicitly told them (several times, I'm sure) that he was a diabetic and asked for their sugar-free selection. I know they're just tired kids making minimum wage in the College Program, but you can't serve a diabetic sugared ice cream after he tells you he needs sugar-free. I meant to raise a stink about that, but with all of the excitement of paradmedics and my dad running his mouth off, I forgot. I also noticed that when they called the EMTs, several other people quietly lined the walls of the First Aid station-- several security guards, and some "plainclothes", supervisor-y sorts with walkie-talkies. Disney is verrrry careful when there's a potential health disaster.

Luckily, it all turned out to be naught but a touch of dehydration and overexertion. I called Dad "Gimpy" for the rest of the day and pushed him around in the wheelchair. My mom told him that I was paying him back for those years he pushed me and Kirsten around the Magic Kingdom in our rental strollers.

I think one of the things that attracts me to this place is that I feel a lot younger here. It's not just that Magic of Disney crap, either-- I'm here with my parents, and I have a round face and long, unstyled hair, so everyone treats me like I'm a kid. And I love it. I bought a double espresso and the old guy behind the counter clucked that he should ask for a note for my mother; the woman who led me into Cinderella's Castle for dinner called me "little princess"; the man who handed me the turkey leg, who was no older than 35, smiled sweetly and said, "There ya go, dear", as if I were 12 years old. And little kids keep talking to me spontaneously, telling me their life stories if I stand next to them for more than a minute. It's very cute.

Not that I wouldn't rather be here as an adult and feel confident enough to, say, flirt with the cute, nerdy guy that was skippering the boat from the hotel to the park this morning... but I'll take the good times where I can get them.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:51 PM | shower me with attention