disney: the good, the bad, and the just plain weird
Well, we’re back from the Magically Corporate Kingdom. There are endless sights to write about, but let’s just look at the things that stand out as being particularly cool, lame, or strange.
the good
Service. Disney is freakishly devoted to making sure you have a Super Duper Good Time. Having a sad customer on the premises is simply unacceptable for them. So whether you want to or not, you’re gonna have fun.
Accordingly, their “City Hall” (helpdesk, really) pulled strings and bent time and space to get us into a Princess Dinner with the little one. Yes, it was Disney’s clerical screwup that left us fearing a princess-free evening in the first place, but they fixed it with panache. So rock on, Eileen!
Another plus, strangely, is money. If you know what you’re doing, you can get out of there with some Washingtons still left in your wallet. Yes, theme parks can be expensive, but you can invest judiciously in your food and souvenirs. Shun the endless rows of pirate hats and plastic doodads to get a simple pair of Mickey ears—the custom embroidery is free. Bypass the ten-dollar souvenir cups and fill a plastic bottle with fountain water instead. Buy a ten-dollar picture of yourself screaming on a ride that you’re still going to look at when you’re too old to go on rides like that any more, instead of a fifty-dollar T-shirt you’re going to wear once.
Crowd control. These guys are masters at hiding the length of the line, keeping the scenery changing, and making sure you’re semi-comfortable during your wait. The experience is the exact opposite of the typical water park or Six Flags, where they cram you into a scorching concrete pen like cattle.
Disney also excels at customization. Zillions of people go through the park every day, but they find occasional ways to make you feel noticed as an individual customer.
When we were on the Monsters, Inc. ride (technically next door to Disneyland, but still part of the Empire). Roz, the world-weary alien-esque receptionist character, must’ve taken her cues from a hidden camera as she looked at me and Av and said, “Young man in the third row—that’s a cute little monster you’ve got there.”
In the “Turtle Talk” exhibit, Crush of “Finding Nemo” fame carried on a conversation with Av, thanks to some computer wizardry and Disney staffers with good improv skills. She’ll always remember being “that little human in the green shell.”
the bad
The park’s last altar to racism is still standing. In my previous post, I wrote about the mild, 1950s-era stereotypes of It’s a Small World—the best way to make peace with it is to roll your eyes and sort of acknowledge it as a product of a less enlightened time.
But Small World has nothing on the Tiki Room. Let’s start with the array of talking totem poles out front (totem poles?!? are we in the islands or the Pacific Northwest?) voiced by Phil Harris, who adopts a phony islander accent and says things like, “Me mighty Thunder God. Me bring rain. Me speak pidgin English.”
Once you’re inside, José The Offensive Latino Stereotype Parrot promises what a great “cho” it’s going to be. I’m not exaggerating—it really is that bad! Then he introduces a green parrot, whose name is Paddy O’Brien or something (I get it! he’s green, so he must be Irish!). The only way Paddy could have been a more noxious caricature would have been for him to get drunk and fall off his perch.
There’s also a French bird, who sounds like Maurice Chevalier taking French lessons. I’m pretty sure I heard him call one of the lady birds zizi, which is a mildly naughty word in French. As José’s accent starts to drift between Latin America and the Caribbean, jungle drums kick in, and the Tiki Gods begin chanting, “Ooga-booga, ooga-booga.” Holy crap! What’s next—blackface?!?
On another sour note, Disneyland has a huge corporate tie-in with Nestlé, who supply all of their coffee and cocoa. Does anyone find it a little ironic that the “happiest place on Earth” for kids would throw its lot in with a bunch of child-killers?
the just plain weird
In the outdoor mall adjacent to the park, they have this store called Build-a-Bear that’s just… where to begin? The idea is an adorable one: kids get to pick a teddy bear shell, fill it with stuffing, customize it, dress it, and print out an “adoption certificate.” Somehow, I expected it to be a little more quaint and a little less Crass Altar of the Dollar.
The place is big and loud, and they hit you with the upsell everywhere. They keep you waiting in the stuffing line forever, while your kids are eye-level with the more expensive gimmick bears. They imply that your bear will have no soul unless you pony up extra for a battery-operated voicebox that will no doubt wear out in a couple of months.
But what the proprietors are really going to hell for is selling little teddy-bear undies right next to the “changing table” where the kids put the costumes on them. Well, of course you have to buy the briefs now! Otherwise, the bear would be “nakey” under that Lakers outfit! It took willpower, but we got through the consume-consume-consume onslaught without needing to take out another mortgage.
In away, Build-a-Bear is a great double-edged sword of a metaphor for America. We love to customize (good! that’s the foundation of democracy!), and we love to buy buy buy as a substitute for actual experiences (maybe not so good).