Have you heard about Walt Disney World’s new no-children-allowed policy?
No, me, either. Even though I have been lobbying for it for years, now. I’m not sure where people ever got the idea that WDW is designed for people of all ages. An urban legend, probably.
I suppose my stance on this topic may offend my friends and relatives who, when they weren’t thinking clearly, decided to produce kids. And, to be fair, I’ll concede that most everybody I know has polite and well-behaved offspring. But the fact remains, children are undersized people who generally cannot be left to their own devices in large public places. Most of them don’t even start looking for jobs until they are six or seven. Until then, they can frequently be found cluttering up Disneyland and Walt Disney World.
Owing to their tiny little legs, kids dwell mostly in a subterranean world below my failing eye level. They get distracted by princesses and people wearing six-foot tall mouse costumes, making them safety hazards for people like myself, who are liable to trip over one and break a hip while I am running to get in line for Dumbo the Flying Elephant.
They can’t make up their minds which kind of ice cream or Mickey-shaped Rice Krispie Treat they want, forcing me to wait behind them much longer than I care to. You won’t see me holding up the proceedings that way. No, sir. I know what I want even before I get in line. And if I don’t, then I take the mature, adult approach. I get one of everything. It’s not rocket science, after all.
You see more crying children per square inch in Walt Disney World than anywhere else on the planet. The Happiest Place on Earth, they call it? What happened to truth in advertising, people?
I am most intrigued by the sobbing tykes I see being dragged around by parents who murmur vague threats along the line of, “We came here to have fun, and by golly, that’s what we’re going to do, so stop your bawling this instant!”
Now, maybe you’ve figured out that I’m not a parent myself, but I had some, and I remember when they used to try that trick on me when I was four or five, or nineteen. At best, it meets with limited success. The child may stop crying, but it doesn’t mean they’re going to be happy. Instead, they are merely quietly sad, and now also a little bit frustrated, because their avenue of genuine expression has been cut off. It makes me want to burst into tears, just thinking about it. This is America, after all, where we are guaranteed life, liberty, and the pursuit of whatever emotion we happen to be feeling. Look it up sometime. It’s in the Constitution. Or the Magna Carta. Or one of those documents our ancestors wrote out on a piece of parchment, or something.
Now, where was I?
Oh, yeah. Disney World and children. Just stay with me a moment longer, because I’ve come up with a plan that I think will make everybody happy. And not that fake happy, where you really want to be crying, except that your dad has told you he’s going to turn the car around and go home if you don’t stop your sniveling. No, this is the real-deal happy.
We all know that The Disney Corporation has more money than Scrooge McDuck and the members of The United Nations combined. So why not build another Disney World, right alongside the first one? One would be for kids, and one for adults. It would solve another problem, too… The lines and crowds would be cut, like, in half! You’re welcome, Disney.
And once both Disney Worlds are done, you can look for me over in the kids’ version.
You didn’t think I was going to hang with a bunch of stodgy old folks like you, did you?