Dry Dock

 I could tell you that I spend nights worrying about climate change and food shortages and vaccination rates. Because that's kind of true. 

But I also worry about the Jungle Cruise. If you are unfamiliar, this attraction is one of the last remaining original rides in Disneyland. It has endured when the People Mover and other visions of the future have been replaced or removed. Those moments of pleasure taken on the river with my family and friends have consistently been some of my happiest in what is already the happiest place on earth. And I am terrified that it will all change.

Please understand that I completely understand and encourage the revamping of what were a series of egregious depictions of indigenous people and their cultures. Disney/Marvel/ESPN/ABC/George Lucas has assured us that Jungle Cruise Redux will "reflect and value the diversity of the world around us." And that sounds great. In theory. How it all plays out in practice will be a slightly different matter. 

My trips to Disneyland are what some people refer to as "a guilty pleasure," but since I tend to eschew guilt I tend to revel in the pleasure. Not that I don't take time to ponder the time and place in which I find myself as I pour my money into the coffers of the mother corporation. For so very long, Disney was the whitest place on earth. Depictions of other races and colors were primarily there for cheap laughs. Like so much of the culture that exploded out of the Baby Boom, there wasn't a lot of concern paid for everyone else. This was the dominant paradigm, and princesses were white and so were the princes, and the heroes were Kurt Russell and the bad guys were Cesar Romero. 

Excuse me. I seem to have strayed a bit from the point: I have reveled in the kitsch that is Disney for my entire life. I understood when it became necessary to have the wenches chasing the buccaneers through Pirates of the Caribbean. I also understood why animatronic Johnny Depps were inserted along the track. Politically correct and financially aware. Which may explain why there was never a move to put Eddie Murphy in the Haunted Mansion. Not because he is black, but rather because his movie didn't make any money. Dwayne Johnson and Emily Blunt are a blockbuster summer away from having their robot likenesses installed along the course of the Jungle Cruise. 

Which will be fine. As long as that wink to the crowd onboard remains. Those elephants aren't real. That tiger has been waiting to pounce for more than half a century. At the turn of this century, the river guides were told not to shoot their pistols at the animals. Only into the air to scare them. A wave of relief swept over the robotic hippo community. When piranhas were installed in 2005, their pinwheeling frothing about were every bit as tacky as the wobbly cobras. My favorite way to experience the ride is to go later in the evening. When it gets dark the skippers control what you see via spot lights at the front of the boat. Only the moments that have a painfully amusing comedy bit associated with them are featured. The best skippers weave their new bits into the tapestry of sarcasm that has been created since 1955. 

I know that I could fret about the environments of real animals along the waterways of Africa and Asia. That would make me more of a citizen of the world. But for the hours that I meander the happiest place on earth, I prefer not to fret. There will be time for fretting once we get back to shore.