Disneyland, or, Something Positive

The first time I went to Disneyland, I was ten months old. I don’t remember much. The second time was 1988, and we blew through for the day as part of a larger family vacation. The third time was in 2001, with my new girlfriend. And the fourth was the beginning of the current streak, which hit its fourth instance since October 2009 this past month. It also marked my first stay at a Disney resort in years – and that’s a tale in itself.

See, we went to Walt Disney World in 1983, the whole family plus my recently-widowed grandfather, and stayed in the Contemporary Resort Hotel, that icon of 60s futurism with the monorail running down the middle. I ended up there in 1989 as well, on that infamous Scholar’s Bowl trip, and again in 1995 on another family vacation with both my girlfriend and my brother’s fiancee in tow (neither of whom panned out for various reasons). There was also a stay I really don’t like to think about a couple of years later, and another at one of the Epcot hotels in 2003 – but the Grand Californian marked my first Disneyland stay and my first resort outing in seven years.

See, staying on the property with an annual pass means all kinds of things. Discounts in the park, early admission, in our case a private entrance straight into California Adventure – in short, you enter Disney-reality instead of your own. No alarms but what you set yourself. No work to go to. Nothing but Star Tours and California Screamin’ and the Temple of the Forbidden Eye and Pirates of the Carribean and World of Color and fireworks and monorails. And dusk along Main Street USA with “Put On Your Sunday Clothes” quietly piped from the speakers to reinforce the Victorian atmosphere while deftly referencing WALL-E into the bargain.

Leaving is always rough. The real world doesn’t have much to recommend it under the circumstances. And the truly sad thing is that this was the first time in years and years that I found myself at a Disney resort without dragging any extra hangers-on, family or otherwise.

One thing I can tell you for sure, though: as much fun as it is to be in Disney-reality with the girl of your dreams, it’s ten thousand times better leaving with her at your side and going home together.