Modes

I spent last weekend being driven about in various forms of transportation: rockets, boats, taxis, jeeps, and still more boats. I did this all under the auspices and watchful eye of the Disney Corporation. As ghouls jumped up from behind gravestones and hippos threatened to overturn our Jungle Cruising vessel, I found myself amused, not terrified. This may have had something to do with the fact that I was in an "amusement park," but even more it was because I was in a "theme park." This meant that when I was sitting in a skiff with cannons going off all around and being threatened by one-eyed scalawags with cutlasses, I assumed it had everything to do with the sign under which I had walked just minutes before that read, "Pirates of the Caribbean." What was I expecting, Stormtroopers and Darth Vader? That would put me across the park in Tomorrowland, right? Or is that Fantasyland?
The bottom line is this: You go to Disneyland to be moderately thrilled. You want to be terrified only up to a certain point. Mostly, you wander from line to line, looking for moments of what feels ever-so-briefly like real tension. It's not like those parking lot carnivals that I remember: the ones that used to set up in front of Woolco for the weekend, just ahead of the state inspectors. Getting on any one of those rides was a thrill, even if they didn't necessarily leave the ground. Things in the Land of Disney are quite the opposite. If someone experiences any sort of discomfort or the motion caused the Mickey Mouse Ice Cream pop to make a hasty exit, things will shut down abruptly until the mess or the malfunction has been cleared. Back in the Woolco parking lot, they're tossing some sawdust down on top of whatever that used to be and hoping that you don't notice the missing safety bar that seems to be on all the other cars. If you hoped to sue the roving band of carnies who fled before you returned from the emergency room, good luck. Disneyland has been there since 1955. It's not going anywhere soon. That's why they want to keep their guests satisfied. And in their seat whenever possible.
It was this thought, and a number of of connected ones, that filled my mind as we loaded up the car and headed out on the Interstate to return home. With my teenage son behind the wheel.