Yes, a trip to Disney World is expensive. If you go in June, like we just did, the heat can be oppressive and the crowds overwhelming.
It takes the talents of a logistics manager to navigate the complex system of varying park start times, parade times, fireworks times, show times, end times, restaurant reservations, modes of transportation and lightning lane windows.
But if our crew of tech-savvy late-sleepers, tech-challenged early-risers, finicky toddlers, finicky oldsters, sun-lovers, sun-haters and dietary-restricted vacationers can make it look like a walk in the park, anyone can.
Disney has a gift for making guests feel special, even as they’re melting during a 40-minute wait for a 3-minute ride.
The payoff comes when you see a small child’s head bob to the music on the “It’s a Small World” ride, or their hair fly on Goofy’s “Barnstormer” or the look of satisfaction on their face when the ride camera proves we all followed the 9-year-old’s directions to keep our “arms up” on “Slinky Dog.”
That’s when the hassles morph into delight. And that’s when you swear as you’re stuffing the refillable popcorn bucket into your carry-on that you’ll be back.
I first visited Walt Disney World as a kid in the ’70s. We had family in Florida and each summer my parents would pile all six kids into the powder-blue Grand Marquis for the long, insufferable drive south.
Even then, after hours of hoarding snacks, fending off sibling encroachments and ignoring threats of abandonment from the front seat, I thought the vacations were stellar — because they included a trip to the ocean and a visit to the Magic Kingdom.
After I married, my husband and I continued the Florida tradition of regularly visiting family and the parks, often upgrading the journey with flights and hotel stays.
We loved watching our kids have fun, and we loved watching them enjoy the parks with their Floridian cousins.
We crossed the Disney Rubicon in 2001 when we were randomly chosen to be grand marshals in the Magic Kingdom’s afternoon parade. We were simply walking down Main Street USA, tussling over whether to stop for breakfast or beat it to “Pirates of the Caribbean,” when a Disney rep asked the question that stole our daughters’ hearts.
Once you do the Cinderella wave to thousands, they own you.
But time passes and as our children became adults, my husband and I moved on to other travel destinations.
This past week was the first time we returned to Disney with both of our adult daughters and their families.
And let me tell you, people get older, family dynamics change, a world of infinite travel possibilities call, and yet watching children have the time of their lives remains one of the most magical experiences ever.
They say Disney is for kids but this time it was us oldsters who were the saddest to see the vacation end.
Times are tough in America these days. Life is uncertain and scary. We find ourselves angry, enraged even, over wars and lies and inflation quickly climbing the charts. Is there an American alive who is not worried about the future?
When you’ve reached a certain age, opportunities to have fun take on a “now or never” patina.
Our oldest daughter captained our Disney ship. She made all of the arrangements. It was a huge undertaking and we were grateful for the prep work.
We bunked with our youngest daughter, her husband and their two little ones in a two-bedroom villa at the Boardwalk Hotel.
My husband and I had our own bedroom and bathroom, as did our daughter’s family. We shared kitchen and laundry facilities. There was plenty of space for all six of us.
Our oldest daughter and her family of four were located down the hall.
The setup enabled my husband and I to help with our youngest grandkids and to enjoy the specialness of seeing their little faces peek into our room each morning to let us know it was time to “go to Disney World.”
On the last day of the trip, I offered to buy one souvenir for each of the four grandchildren.
The oldest chose a strawberry-scented Lotso bear, her younger brother picked a large Sorcerer Mickey. The toddler’s mother selected a Mickey jean jacket for him.
That left the unpredictable 4-year-old, who’d made giant leaps during the visit. He overcame a fear of elevators. He learned to sleep in a hotel room. He mostly sat nicely during long restaurant dinners. And the only time he truly lost control was on the dancefloor at the interactive Jessie’s Roundup.
I was so proud of him. Watching him experience so much joy made my heart swell.
I thought it might burst when he chose his souvenir.
“He loves it,” said my daughter, days after our return. “He carries it from room to room.”
In a sea of stuffed Goofys, talking Buzz Lightyears, quirky pens, adorable sunglasses and Lightning McQueen racecars, his chosen keepsake was more than memorabilia; it was useful.
A plastic popcorn bucket can carry a lot of things.
Donna Vickroy is an award-winning reporter, editor and columnist who worked for the Daily Southtown for 38 years. She can be reached at donnavickroy4@gmail.com.
