When You Wish Upon A Star...

Exactly one month ago, my father and I were out in California, visiting my brother. The three of us were together on the West Coast in honor of a very momentous and extraordinary birthday for my Dad. Yup. The big 4-0 (wink) for Good Old Dad was celebrated with much merriment out on the Left Coast. Oh we had a good time the three of us. We toured some old ships in San Diego's harbor, we wandered around Old Town. We spent an afternoon in race cars, we roamed through Santa Monica. And one morning we ventured North on the 5, headed to a certain spot...a magical place where your wildest dreams can come true.

We went to Disneyland.

In 2008, when I went out to California the first time to visit Stephen over Thanksgiving, he and I talked about a day trip to Disneyland. He and I had been to Disney World as kids, but never Disneyland. We ran out of time on that trip...and the next trip...and the next...

Last year, when he was deployed in Afghanistan, with only about a month left until he returned to the States, he sent me an email. This is the paragraph he closed his letter with:

In other news,
Have you decided when you are coming to Cali? The reason I am asking is because I so, so desperately want to go to Disneyland. Like right now. Disneyland. Tea cups. Space Mountain. Pirates of the Caribbean. Jungle Cruise. Haunted Mansion. Tomorrowland. Frontierland. Adventureland. "The Happiest Place on Earth." Now.
Fantasyland, Kel. Fantasyland.

When I wrote back I promised a visit to Disneyland. If I remember correctly, I believe I even threw in a "hells-yeah!" for good measure. I figured if my little brother, smack in the middle of a war zone, is taking a moment to write his sister about an intense desire to get to Disneyland? You can be damn sure we're getting on some spinning tea cups when he gets home.

It's been a long time in the making, but in October we finally pulled it together and got ourselves in those nauseating charming ol' teacups.

Our day in the park was absolutely as much fun as I had anticipated it would be, complete with moments of reminiscing about Disney trips we took as kids, and dragging our Dad along on every ride - including that certain infamous boat ride that gets a certain notorious song stuck in your head for the rest of the day.

My favorite quote from my Dad as we were on the "It's a Small World" ride: "Do you kids remember it being this long when you were little?"



All the old favorites were enjoyed, including the classic - and probably highly offensive in some PC way I haven't quite put my finger on yet - Mister Toad's Wild Ride. (Toad ends up in HELL at the end? Due to his reckless driving? Do you guys remember this? I certainly did not.)


Stephen and I were disappointed to find The Pirates of Caribbean ride closed; though we decided to channel our energy on the positive and absolutely fantastic new Indiana Jones ride rather than dwell too much on that Disneyland glitch. All three of us we severely upset by the changes made to the if-it-isn't-broke-why-fix-it Haunted Mansion as well as the "rewrite" of The Swiss Family Robinson Tree house. The Tree house is no more, my friends. Instead, you visit Tarzan's home. This would not have annoyed my brother and I quite as much as it did if a) this change wasn't a sad reminder that kids don't know the Swiss Family Robinson story anymore and b) Disney had actually put any kind of thought into changing the ride for Tarzan. Their "change" was the cheapest band-aid slapped on an attraction that my father, brother, and I had ever seen. You left the steering wheel in the tree house, Disney! And all you added was a baby Tarzan in a crib and a portrait of Jane and Tarzan as grown-ups! You can do better, Disney. We were not fooled.

Those minor criticisms aside, I have to give our day in Disneyland a very enthusiastic, Mickey-sized thumbs up. I laughed harder that day than I had in ages and enjoyed every second of that afternoon spent with my brother and father. 'Twas one for the record books, it was.


In fact, I even made it back to my old friend, Space Mountain. You see, I'd been on Space Mountain once before, as a ten year old. My father and I had followed a guide book Mom had that told us how to beat the line at the then relatively new Space Mountain ride. I clearly remember getting up early with Dad all the way back in 1990 and racing through the park together to make it onto that ride sans long line. I also very clearly remember sitting behind Dad in our roller coaster car and after the first dip into darkness shutting my eyes for the duration. I can picture my little ten year old self clear as a bell, brown hair braided down my back, wearing a neon tank top and fanny-pack, and telling myself: 'don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. It has to be over soon.'

A prouder girl might tell you she wasn't nervous approaching this ride as a 32 year old woman. I am not that girl. And while I kept my eyes open for the entire ride this time and I certainly didn't cry, I did absolutely scream my head off. You guys, that ride is s-c-a-r-y. Even my Marine brother agreed. So there.

It was also awesome. If the line to get on hadn't been so darn long I would have absolutely gone on it again just for kicks.

But we had another ride to get to, one last one before the park closed for the evening - The Tower of Terror. For those of you unfamiliar, The Tower of Terror is one of the newer rides - though I'm probably dating myself saying that as I actually think it has been around since 1997 or so. Stephen and I had both been on the one in Florida before, but we wanted to visit the California version. Plus we wanted Dad to experience the 13 floor elevator drop. Well, how about we just let this photo speak for itself about the experience that Stephen, Dad, and I had, eh? We're in the lower right corner.

A blood curdling scream from moi, a fist pump from the Marine (of course) and just a happy little grin from Dad. Just as we're about to drop 13 floors.

Too classic.

When the park finally shut its' doors and it was time to head back to San Diego, the three of us sat in the car quiet, tired, and...hungry. It was in this moment that my darling brother seized upon one of the best ideas he has ever had. As we made our way South on the interstate he exited at the town he called home before San Diego. There happens to be an amazing burrito shack called Pete's Tacos just off the highway, a spot Stephen and I both adore. And after a day spent with Mickey & Co? Well nothing hit the spot better than those burritos we inhaled under the awning of that shack.


When I was looking at the park map earlier that day, I saw a quote from Walt Disney himself, one about envisioning a park where families could go, laugh, have a good time, and enjoy one another's company. I don't think Stephen and I consciously planned that our day at Disney would do that but in the end, that's exactly what happened. Our Disneyland adventure was my favorite day of our entire trip and a memory made with my brother and father that I'll get to keep forever. I suppose, in the end, Walt knew what he was doing after all.