There is one experience I have had in life that I will forever cherish.
I saw Wally Boag perform at the Golden Horseshoe before he retired.
My family and I sat in the front row of tables and Wally came on stage as Pecos Bill.
He squirted us with his squirt gun and I will never forget how it seemed like he would spit out teeth FOREVER!
Wally was a part of the true Disneyland magic, and performed continuously in what remains one of the longest running live performance shows of all time!
He was a master of pantomime, sight gags AND fast talking one liners, all wrapped up into one person.
You can see glimpses of Wally on Youtube, so this is one memory of mine that we can all experience together! Of course, seeing him perform live was a treat that simply cannot translate through video, but you sure get the picture.
Wally, thanks for the laughs!
---Mike
Friday, August 20, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Disneyland - Old Co-Workers
Let us take a look at some pictures from old co-workers past.First off: Sam.
What a loafer.
Never saw him on the dock or on a boat, but he was always hanging out around Jungle.
Ran a head shop in south Orange County for a while.
Kept to himself, mostly.
He described himself as a "people person" nonetheless.
Also fancied himself a "thigh man," whatever that means.
Never wore a name tag (bad show).
Never said a word.
Still, he'd go out on a limb for you (sometimes, twice a week).
Kinda creepy to hang out with during lunch.
Next, are three from my sweeper days.
Piper was a dutiful sweeper and always had a smile. Unlike Sam, she was a people person who liked people for people's sake. 
Don, on the other hand, was a fabulous "over the line" softball player. He had a great eye and could place the ball exactly where it needed to go during OTL tournaments. A master of Main Street restrooms, he once threatened to make a sweater from certain hair he swept up from the floor. Gack.
Finally, Curt. A true artist and comic rolled up into one. He had a Fantasyland shift in the summer of 1985. Raybans, perfect form with the pan and broom, and a winning sense of humor.Went on to have his own TV show.
I'll keep the rest of pictures in the trunk for now, but I'm not afraid to use them if I have to!
Thank goodness for Disney Polaroid pictures!
I'll bet none will surface of a certain sweeper named Mike (circa 1984-85)!
---Adieu, for now!
---Mike
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Disneyland - Jungle Break Area Blues
One thing has remained the same between my Jungle days of old and my most recent stint on the attraction last year: the break area.
It is at the end of a little corridor behind the old stage of the Tahitian Terrace and the Aladdin show. It consists of a few discarded chairs, a trash can or two, a computer terminal (for accessing the Cast Deployment System - "CDS"), and a walkway next to a railing next to the Jungle boat storage area. You can see the storage area to your right as you round the final bend of the river just past Trader Sam. Two large doors swing open to allow access to the back area. When they open, if you look hard enough and believe strongly enough, several skippers at various stages of ennui will appear, lounging for their break on old chairs or leaning on the railing.
Hey. It was our break area.
Not perfect, but a small oasis in the Jungle.
You bumped there from your rotation. Perhaps you literally ran from there to the Inn Between and back in order to get a quick drink or snack. Perhaps you hit the vending machines located near the "dancing natives" in the access alley behind Main Street.
You would share a quick hello with fellow skippers.
"Any good boats today?"
"Nah. Pretty dead."
"Is that because of your sorry spiel?"
"Shut up. Your last boatload looked like the cast of a George Romero flick."
"Really? The last laugh I heard from one of your boats was YOU laughing at your own jokes."
"Yeah, thanks. Last night I had a great group. They loved me!"
"It's nice when relatives come to the Park, ain't it?"
"Jerk."
"Novice."
"Weasel."
"Rookie."
"Rookie? I've been on this attraction for six months straight! I hear natives chanting in my head at night!"
"Six months? Rookie."
"How long have you been on the Jungle?"
"Well...I started in 1987..."
Shocked silence.
Of course, there are a couple of old skippers who have truly been on the Jungle since the 1980s. If you should see Randy or an old foreman named Gerry on the dock, dust them off because they have literally been working the attraction for more than a quarter century.
Talk about old jokes!
Anyway...
The break area is not glamorous, but it suits its purpose.
There you find a few quiet moments during your shift.
You actually get off your feet for a while (heck, between skippering the boat and working the dock, you are on foot for 6-7 hours per shift! No wonder I lost all that weight when I returned. I might have to publish a book: "The Jungle Cruise Diet."---I'll let you know).
Most breaks consisted of a diet Coke and bad vending machine fare.
With the advent of cell phones, most skippers sat and texted or played games. Back in the '80s, we would while away the time by teasing each other or playing practical jokes. Most such hijinks are strictly verboten in today's Disneyland.
Ah, workers' compensation and the Labor Code, such grand enhancements to the modern workplace.
No more cups of water poured down the back.
No more cigarette loads (tiny sticks of white gunpowder strategically inserted into fellow cast member's smokes when they weren't looking).
No lying in wait as a group for the next guy coming off on break (man, we scared the hell out of so many skippers!).
Not so much psychological warfare between skippers (good natured, but devastating nonetheless).
Nope.
That is not to say the banter died completely.
We still would try to joke around a bit.
But in today's workplace---shackled by political correctness, "hostile work environment" claims, the dangers of a joke being misunderstood or taken wrongly, etc., some of the fun simply had to go to the wayside.
The real fun typically started off site, after one's shift, at "Charley Brown's" or "Acapulco" or the pub or wherever.
This is a family blog, so we will leave the off-site shenanigans for another venue, perhaps.
To the poor old Jungle break area and the skippers sitting there right this moment: Cheers!!
For those of you who did not enjoy your trip with me today, the address and telephone number of our complaint department is right over there on the wall to our right as we approach the dock. Feel free to comment there as often as you wish. (You Jungle Cruise lovers know exactly what I'm talking about---if not, take a look at the writing on the wall over there the next time you come to the end of a cruise through the Jungle).
Now it's time to say goodbye to all our company.
Bye.
---Mike
It is at the end of a little corridor behind the old stage of the Tahitian Terrace and the Aladdin show. It consists of a few discarded chairs, a trash can or two, a computer terminal (for accessing the Cast Deployment System - "CDS"), and a walkway next to a railing next to the Jungle boat storage area. You can see the storage area to your right as you round the final bend of the river just past Trader Sam. Two large doors swing open to allow access to the back area. When they open, if you look hard enough and believe strongly enough, several skippers at various stages of ennui will appear, lounging for their break on old chairs or leaning on the railing.
Hey. It was our break area.
Not perfect, but a small oasis in the Jungle.
You bumped there from your rotation. Perhaps you literally ran from there to the Inn Between and back in order to get a quick drink or snack. Perhaps you hit the vending machines located near the "dancing natives" in the access alley behind Main Street.
You would share a quick hello with fellow skippers.
"Any good boats today?"
"Nah. Pretty dead."
"Is that because of your sorry spiel?"
"Shut up. Your last boatload looked like the cast of a George Romero flick."
"Really? The last laugh I heard from one of your boats was YOU laughing at your own jokes."
"Yeah, thanks. Last night I had a great group. They loved me!"
"It's nice when relatives come to the Park, ain't it?"
"Jerk."
"Novice."
"Weasel."
"Rookie."
"Rookie? I've been on this attraction for six months straight! I hear natives chanting in my head at night!"
"Six months? Rookie."
"How long have you been on the Jungle?"
"Well...I started in 1987..."
Shocked silence.
Of course, there are a couple of old skippers who have truly been on the Jungle since the 1980s. If you should see Randy or an old foreman named Gerry on the dock, dust them off because they have literally been working the attraction for more than a quarter century.
Talk about old jokes!
Anyway...
The break area is not glamorous, but it suits its purpose.
There you find a few quiet moments during your shift.
You actually get off your feet for a while (heck, between skippering the boat and working the dock, you are on foot for 6-7 hours per shift! No wonder I lost all that weight when I returned. I might have to publish a book: "The Jungle Cruise Diet."---I'll let you know).
Most breaks consisted of a diet Coke and bad vending machine fare.
With the advent of cell phones, most skippers sat and texted or played games. Back in the '80s, we would while away the time by teasing each other or playing practical jokes. Most such hijinks are strictly verboten in today's Disneyland.
Ah, workers' compensation and the Labor Code, such grand enhancements to the modern workplace.
No more cups of water poured down the back.
No more cigarette loads (tiny sticks of white gunpowder strategically inserted into fellow cast member's smokes when they weren't looking).
No lying in wait as a group for the next guy coming off on break (man, we scared the hell out of so many skippers!).
Not so much psychological warfare between skippers (good natured, but devastating nonetheless).
Nope.
That is not to say the banter died completely.
We still would try to joke around a bit.
But in today's workplace---shackled by political correctness, "hostile work environment" claims, the dangers of a joke being misunderstood or taken wrongly, etc., some of the fun simply had to go to the wayside.
The real fun typically started off site, after one's shift, at "Charley Brown's" or "Acapulco" or the pub or wherever.
This is a family blog, so we will leave the off-site shenanigans for another venue, perhaps.
To the poor old Jungle break area and the skippers sitting there right this moment: Cheers!!
For those of you who did not enjoy your trip with me today, the address and telephone number of our complaint department is right over there on the wall to our right as we approach the dock. Feel free to comment there as often as you wish. (You Jungle Cruise lovers know exactly what I'm talking about---if not, take a look at the writing on the wall over there the next time you come to the end of a cruise through the Jungle).
Now it's time to say goodbye to all our company.
Bye.
---Mike
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Disneyland - Martinis over New Orleans Square
If you do not know about Club 33, you are reading the wrong blog.
If you've never been there, my sincere regrets, but allow me to share a few choice moments from one of my visits.
I made it to the Club as a guest when a court reporting firm my law firm used told us that they had a membership and could get us in whenever we wanted because we were good customers.
I took them up on it as often as I could.
On at least one such occasion, we were seated at a table by the window that overlooked the Cafe Orleans, Haunted Mansion and the Frontierland train station.
I ordered a Ketel One martini (up and dirty, thank you, with three olives) and perused the menu. The food I ordered is not important.
The drink.
The drink came to me on a platter.
A bright young gentleman in a Club 33 waiter's costume gently lifted it from platter to a cocktail napkin on the table to my right.
The classically-shaped glass glistened with condensation.
It had been chilled perfectly.
The contents of the glass sparkled like Monterey Bay.
The olives sat almost frozen in the translucent, syrupy vodka.
They were skewered with a clear, plastic "toothpick" that looked as though it had come straight out of Superman's Fortress of Solitude.
As the waiter left, I was alone with my thoughts for a moment.
Here I was, a guest in Club 33.
The decor was perfect---think Haunted Mansion for the living.
The tablecloth was white (of course).
All my other Disneyland experiences flashed before me: the sun, the colors, the Mickey Mouse balloons, the smell of Pirates of the Caribbean, the exhaust of Jungle boats, the whirl of teacups, the scrape of pan and broom after a cigarette butt, you get the picture.
None came near the bliss of lifting that frosty glass and raising a toast to Walt.
The salty sip of olive juice and the cool bite of vodka mingled in my brain with the view from the window.
I looked down on this area of New Orleans Square that I had so often seen from below.
Yet I still felt a part of it.
I still felt the "Disneyland-ishness" of it all.
All those times in crowded lines, amid screaming children, or dumping trash (or scooping elephant poop), or waving a flashlight at a throng, they all crystallized like the flakes of ice in my Martini.
Here was a moment at Disneyland I never thought I'd see: a cool drink in an elegant venue right in the middle of the Park!
Let me tell you, Jungleteers, THAT was worth the price of admission.
Here's to Club 33!
More importantly, here's to Disneyland!
Many happy returns!
---Mike
If you've never been there, my sincere regrets, but allow me to share a few choice moments from one of my visits.
I made it to the Club as a guest when a court reporting firm my law firm used told us that they had a membership and could get us in whenever we wanted because we were good customers.
I took them up on it as often as I could.
On at least one such occasion, we were seated at a table by the window that overlooked the Cafe Orleans, Haunted Mansion and the Frontierland train station.
I ordered a Ketel One martini (up and dirty, thank you, with three olives) and perused the menu. The food I ordered is not important.
The drink.
The drink came to me on a platter.
A bright young gentleman in a Club 33 waiter's costume gently lifted it from platter to a cocktail napkin on the table to my right.
The classically-shaped glass glistened with condensation.
It had been chilled perfectly.
The contents of the glass sparkled like Monterey Bay.
The olives sat almost frozen in the translucent, syrupy vodka.
They were skewered with a clear, plastic "toothpick" that looked as though it had come straight out of Superman's Fortress of Solitude.
As the waiter left, I was alone with my thoughts for a moment.
Here I was, a guest in Club 33.
The decor was perfect---think Haunted Mansion for the living.
The tablecloth was white (of course).
All my other Disneyland experiences flashed before me: the sun, the colors, the Mickey Mouse balloons, the smell of Pirates of the Caribbean, the exhaust of Jungle boats, the whirl of teacups, the scrape of pan and broom after a cigarette butt, you get the picture.
None came near the bliss of lifting that frosty glass and raising a toast to Walt.
The salty sip of olive juice and the cool bite of vodka mingled in my brain with the view from the window.
I looked down on this area of New Orleans Square that I had so often seen from below.
Yet I still felt a part of it.
I still felt the "Disneyland-ishness" of it all.
All those times in crowded lines, amid screaming children, or dumping trash (or scooping elephant poop), or waving a flashlight at a throng, they all crystallized like the flakes of ice in my Martini.
Here was a moment at Disneyland I never thought I'd see: a cool drink in an elegant venue right in the middle of the Park!
Let me tell you, Jungleteers, THAT was worth the price of admission.
Here's to Club 33!
More importantly, here's to Disneyland!
Many happy returns!
---Mike
Friday, July 23, 2010
Disneyland - In the crowd
You've been in a crowd before.
Ever tried to control one?
With a pink plastic-coned flashlight?
And a Mickey Mouse nametag?
It is an experience feared by many and savored by a few.
Today's post is a brief reflection on guest control duty---and times spent as a guest, too.
Fireworks.
Parades.
Fantasmic.
World of Color (okay, it's at DCA, but it helps paint the picture).
As a guest, you surely have found yourself in the middle of a mass of people, each staking out their square foot of space in the hope of getting a VIP view of Tinkerbell or of Mickey fighting off Maleficent.
You have been gently coaxed and herded into specially roped off seating areas and firmly guided out of walkways in the middle of which you have vainly tried to plant yourself.
You have seen the scurrying cast members strategically stationed about you, smiling and waving their plastic batons or coned flashlights: "Right this way, folks! Please keep to your right, this is a walkway only!"
You sense at some point that the chaos about you has an odd rhythm or flow, almost a structure.
Your eyebrow raises and you think (in your best Haunted Mansion Paul Frees "Ghost Host" voice inside your head), "I am surrounded by 20,000 people, in the middle of Main Street, with no windows and no doors."
Talk about a "chilling challenge."
You are in a Disney flash mob.
This is almost anarchy.
Worse yet, as the parade/fireworks/show time nears, the crowd gets agitated and restless all around you.
People who have sat for two hours to get a good spot become like raving chihuahuas protecting the laps of their masters from anyone who approaches---you know the type.
The folks who wander up at 9:23 p.m. and wonder why there aren't any places left for them and their six children to see the fireworks.
The persons who feign ignorance of all language and Western customs and boldly step under the rope to stand directly in front of you.
The people with sharp and rude elbows who worm in on your patch of personal space, blissfully ignorant of your slowly boiling irritation.
Those with tall hats, or simply tall in stature, who appear at the last moment and slip in front of you to take in the fireworks---which now appear to you like sparklers erupting from someone's head.
The dads in front of you who suddenly shoulder their twelve-year-olds "so they can see the fireworks"---"There, honey, can you see now?"
The people who step on your fingers while you sit on the curb or ground.
"Oh, sorry. Didn't see you there."
Really?
What, does Disneyland make me invisible?
Sure, it's the Magic Kingdom, but...
...I'M RIGHT FRICKIN' IN FRONT OF YOU!!
Oh.
No.
That cold sticky dampness can only mean someone has spilled their Coke on you.
Honestly?
You know, they have LIDS for those things!
"Sorry."
Sometimes you feel like Steve "Neil Page" Martin stuck in that hotel room with John "Del O. Griffith" Candy in "Planes, Trains & Automobiles."
The underwear in the sink.
The six pack that exploded on the bed.
The Cracker Jacks in the sheets.
The slow boil.
Then there's the kids.
Charming, polite, quiet and innocent.
Yeah...those ones are sitting on the OTHER side of the street.
You seem to always be stuck with Damien, Omen II, and his little sister Gehenna (and their parents).
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! NOOOOOOOO!!! I want POPCORN."
"Mommy can't get you popcorn, sweetie, there's too many people and we'll lose our spot."
"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! BWAAAAAAAAAAAAA! IWANTPOPCORN! IWANTPOPCORN!"
"Damien, Mommy has some Goldfish. Do you want some Goldfish?"
"HIAYAHAYAHHHHHH, NOOOOOOOOOO, GAAAAAAAAAAA-------I WANT POPCORN!!"
"Here, have some Go-Gurt from this morning."
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. WAAAAHAAAAWAAA!! POPCORN! POPCORN! POPCORN!"
"Damien get off the ground, you're kicking the nice man. Mommy will give you some of her Coke."
"PPPPPPPPPPPPPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPCORRRNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!"
(The Father) "You want Daddy to hold you?"
"NNNOOOOOOOOO!!! POPPPPPCOOOORRRRRNNNNN!!!! BWAAAAHHHH!!!"
(The Mother) "Damien, let Daddy hold you."
"WWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!@#$!!!"
"Here, Mommy has gum, do you want gum?"
"NNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!! WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!"
(Gehenna) "Damien got snot on me from crying!!!! WAAHHHHAHHAHHAH!!!!"
"Oh, Damien, now you've upset Gehenna!! Do you want Daddy to go get you both popcorn?"
You know how it generally plays out from here. (Is there ANYONE left on earth who can say no to a child? I mean, besides me).
I digress.
Where was I?
Oh, the crowd.
Guest Control (which is but a single consonant sound away from "Pest Control") involved tactfully and tactically inserting oneself into the foregoing situation, with the hope, goal and intent of getting people who are at the end of their collective theme park ropes to actually listen to you and move, sit or stand where you need them to move, sit or stand---while keeping them happy, or at least keeping them from killing each other.
Try it sometime.
Then, try doing it with courtesy.
Disney Cast Members are a special breed.
Indeed, the Flashlight is mightier than the sword, especially when wielded at the Hub by a seasoned veteran of Guest Control.
It all comes down to:
Please keep this area clear. This is a walkway. If you want to watch the fireworks, you will need to move under the rope.
The fireworks start at 9:25 p.m., but get here EARLY.
No, you cannot have my nametag.
Sure, I'll take your picture.
If you have a clear view of the Castle, you should see everything just fine.
Sorry, we can't have you sit there, this is an emergency walkway that we must keep clear. There is excellent viewing in the street.
What's that, sir? The popcorn cart?
It's at the southern end of the Hub there and you'd better hurry!
Sounds like Damien over there sure wants some...
---Mike
Ever tried to control one?
With a pink plastic-coned flashlight?
And a Mickey Mouse nametag?
It is an experience feared by many and savored by a few.
Today's post is a brief reflection on guest control duty---and times spent as a guest, too.
Fireworks.
Parades.
Fantasmic.
World of Color (okay, it's at DCA, but it helps paint the picture).
As a guest, you surely have found yourself in the middle of a mass of people, each staking out their square foot of space in the hope of getting a VIP view of Tinkerbell or of Mickey fighting off Maleficent.
You have been gently coaxed and herded into specially roped off seating areas and firmly guided out of walkways in the middle of which you have vainly tried to plant yourself.
You have seen the scurrying cast members strategically stationed about you, smiling and waving their plastic batons or coned flashlights: "Right this way, folks! Please keep to your right, this is a walkway only!"
You sense at some point that the chaos about you has an odd rhythm or flow, almost a structure.
Your eyebrow raises and you think (in your best Haunted Mansion Paul Frees "Ghost Host" voice inside your head), "I am surrounded by 20,000 people, in the middle of Main Street, with no windows and no doors."
Talk about a "chilling challenge."
You are in a Disney flash mob.
This is almost anarchy.
Worse yet, as the parade/fireworks/show time nears, the crowd gets agitated and restless all around you.
People who have sat for two hours to get a good spot become like raving chihuahuas protecting the laps of their masters from anyone who approaches---you know the type.
The folks who wander up at 9:23 p.m. and wonder why there aren't any places left for them and their six children to see the fireworks.
The persons who feign ignorance of all language and Western customs and boldly step under the rope to stand directly in front of you.
The people with sharp and rude elbows who worm in on your patch of personal space, blissfully ignorant of your slowly boiling irritation.
Those with tall hats, or simply tall in stature, who appear at the last moment and slip in front of you to take in the fireworks---which now appear to you like sparklers erupting from someone's head.
The dads in front of you who suddenly shoulder their twelve-year-olds "so they can see the fireworks"---"There, honey, can you see now?"
The people who step on your fingers while you sit on the curb or ground.
"Oh, sorry. Didn't see you there."
Really?
What, does Disneyland make me invisible?
Sure, it's the Magic Kingdom, but...
...I'M RIGHT FRICKIN' IN FRONT OF YOU!!
Oh.
No.
That cold sticky dampness can only mean someone has spilled their Coke on you.
Honestly?
You know, they have LIDS for those things!
"Sorry."
Sometimes you feel like Steve "Neil Page" Martin stuck in that hotel room with John "Del O. Griffith" Candy in "Planes, Trains & Automobiles."
The underwear in the sink.
The six pack that exploded on the bed.
The Cracker Jacks in the sheets.
The slow boil.
Then there's the kids.
Charming, polite, quiet and innocent.
Yeah...those ones are sitting on the OTHER side of the street.
You seem to always be stuck with Damien, Omen II, and his little sister Gehenna (and their parents).
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! NOOOOOOOO!!! I want POPCORN."
"Mommy can't get you popcorn, sweetie, there's too many people and we'll lose our spot."
"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! BWAAAAAAAAAAAAA! IWANTPOPCORN! IWANTPOPCORN!"
"Damien, Mommy has some Goldfish. Do you want some Goldfish?"
"HIAYAHAYAHHHHHH, NOOOOOOOOOO, GAAAAAAAAAAA-------I WANT POPCORN!!"
"Here, have some Go-Gurt from this morning."
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. WAAAAHAAAAWAAA!! POPCORN! POPCORN! POPCORN!"
"Damien get off the ground, you're kicking the nice man. Mommy will give you some of her Coke."
"PPPPPPPPPPPPPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPCORRRNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!"
(The Father) "You want Daddy to hold you?"
"NNNOOOOOOOOO!!! POPPPPPCOOOORRRRRNNNNN!!!! BWAAAAHHHH!!!"
(The Mother) "Damien, let Daddy hold you."
"WWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!@#$!!!"
"Here, Mommy has gum, do you want gum?"
"NNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!! WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!"
(Gehenna) "Damien got snot on me from crying!!!! WAAHHHHAHHAHHAH!!!!"
"Oh, Damien, now you've upset Gehenna!! Do you want Daddy to go get you both popcorn?"
You know how it generally plays out from here. (Is there ANYONE left on earth who can say no to a child? I mean, besides me).
I digress.
Where was I?
Oh, the crowd.
Guest Control (which is but a single consonant sound away from "Pest Control") involved tactfully and tactically inserting oneself into the foregoing situation, with the hope, goal and intent of getting people who are at the end of their collective theme park ropes to actually listen to you and move, sit or stand where you need them to move, sit or stand---while keeping them happy, or at least keeping them from killing each other.
Try it sometime.
Then, try doing it with courtesy.
Disney Cast Members are a special breed.
Indeed, the Flashlight is mightier than the sword, especially when wielded at the Hub by a seasoned veteran of Guest Control.
It all comes down to:
- Tone of voice.
- Authority.
- Clear body language.
- Stance.
- Smile.
- Firm footing.
- Iron will.
- Grit.
- Determination.
- Impeccable timing.
- Delicate statesmanship.
- A keen eye.
- The ability to anticipate a situation.
- A sense of humor.
- A visible costume that helps distinguish you from the crowd.
- A voice that carries without being entirely irritating.
- Eye contact.
- Warmth---FIRM warmth, but warmth nonetheless.
- Coned flashlight.
Please keep this area clear. This is a walkway. If you want to watch the fireworks, you will need to move under the rope.
The fireworks start at 9:25 p.m., but get here EARLY.
No, you cannot have my nametag.
Sure, I'll take your picture.
If you have a clear view of the Castle, you should see everything just fine.
Sorry, we can't have you sit there, this is an emergency walkway that we must keep clear. There is excellent viewing in the street.
What's that, sir? The popcorn cart?
It's at the southern end of the Hub there and you'd better hurry!
Sounds like Damien over there sure wants some...
---Mike
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Disney World---Polynesian Pool Pining...
Today's post is dedicated to pining for our times at Disney's "other" theme park in Florida, and, more specifically, the Polynesian Resort.
Even more specifically, I pine for the Volcano Pool and its white sand beach overlooking the Seven Seas Lagoon and the majestic Cinderella's Castle.
These photographs from our last trip (alas two long years ago) pre-date the global economic collapse. The five of us were able to fly east. We checked into the Polynesian in mid-June 2008. A dig through the Jungle is 101 archives will turn up a report from our trip back then. Happily, we received an unexpected upgrade to a Concierge level room as part of the Year of A Million Dreams promotion or something like that.
This meant wine, cheese and beer in the evening and free cereal and coffee in the mornings. It meant a lagoon view room in the Hawaii longhouse. It meant a short walk to the Volcano Pool.For an Adventureland and Tiki fan like me, the Polynesian and its grounds are a true paradise.
Hawaii is nice, but last I checked it has no FastPasses and is utterly devoid of any semblance of a Disney theme park. There is no Monorail on any of Hawaii's islands that can whisk you to EPCOT or the Magic Kingdom. Such a luxury can only be found at the Polynesian, nestled as it is near the Transportation and Ticket Center ("TTC") and also along the Magic Kingdom Monorail track.
But the Volcano pool is its own mini destination. It shimmers with crystal blue waters along its own white sand beach. It has a water slide that goes through a volcano. It is a dream for swimmers young and old alike---but especially five and ten year old daughters and a 13-ish son. When the Florida heat and humidity took it out of you by mid-day, the Volcano pool was a Monorail ride away, where you could splash, hot and tired, into a cool, tropical dream come true.
Oh. And it has the Barefoot Bar.
A Mai Tai with a float of 151, please. Keep the change.
Dear Volcano Pool:
I miss you.
Wish I were there.
With an umbrella firmly planted in the pineapple wedge at the edge of my drink.
Write if you get a chance.
Better yet, just wave.
Fondly,
Mike
And to close out today's post, here is a shot of a humidified former skipper, lost in a far off corner of an Animal Kingdom in 2008.
A flash of photographic proof that you can take the skipper out of the jungle, but you'll never get the jungle out of the skipper.
Nice outfit.
Heck, all it needs is a name tag and a boat.
Stay fabulous, readers (or at least stay awake),
---Mike
Even more specifically, I pine for the Volcano Pool and its white sand beach overlooking the Seven Seas Lagoon and the majestic Cinderella's Castle.
These photographs from our last trip (alas two long years ago) pre-date the global economic collapse. The five of us were able to fly east. We checked into the Polynesian in mid-June 2008. A dig through the Jungle is 101 archives will turn up a report from our trip back then. Happily, we received an unexpected upgrade to a Concierge level room as part of the Year of A Million Dreams promotion or something like that.This meant wine, cheese and beer in the evening and free cereal and coffee in the mornings. It meant a lagoon view room in the Hawaii longhouse. It meant a short walk to the Volcano Pool.For an Adventureland and Tiki fan like me, the Polynesian and its grounds are a true paradise.
Hawaii is nice, but last I checked it has no FastPasses and is utterly devoid of any semblance of a Disney theme park. There is no Monorail on any of Hawaii's islands that can whisk you to EPCOT or the Magic Kingdom. Such a luxury can only be found at the Polynesian, nestled as it is near the Transportation and Ticket Center ("TTC") and also along the Magic Kingdom Monorail track.
But the Volcano pool is its own mini destination. It shimmers with crystal blue waters along its own white sand beach. It has a water slide that goes through a volcano. It is a dream for swimmers young and old alike---but especially five and ten year old daughters and a 13-ish son. When the Florida heat and humidity took it out of you by mid-day, the Volcano pool was a Monorail ride away, where you could splash, hot and tired, into a cool, tropical dream come true.Oh. And it has the Barefoot Bar.
A Mai Tai with a float of 151, please. Keep the change.
Dear Volcano Pool:
I miss you.
Wish I were there.
With an umbrella firmly planted in the pineapple wedge at the edge of my drink.
Write if you get a chance.
Better yet, just wave.
Fondly,
Mike
And to close out today's post, here is a shot of a humidified former skipper, lost in a far off corner of an Animal Kingdom in 2008.
A flash of photographic proof that you can take the skipper out of the jungle, but you'll never get the jungle out of the skipper.Nice outfit.
Heck, all it needs is a name tag and a boat.
Stay fabulous, readers (or at least stay awake),
---Mike
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Disneyland - Jungle Cruise - A telegram from Mike
Jungle is 101 fans!
Stop.
This is Mike.
Stop.
Happy to report, still alive.
Stop.
Presently held in small hut.
Stop.
Natives outside dance continuously in a circle.
Stop.
Have to go to the bathroom. (Not me, the natives.)
Stop.
Promise to post something substantive soon.
Stop.
Must get past Schweitzer Falls and the piranha first.
Stop.
Oh. Trader Sam says hi.
Stop.
Stopped by his village cafe for lunch. Prices have gone way up.
Stop.
He wanted to charge me an arm and a leg.
Stop.
Please, somebody make me stop.
Love you all.
Miss you.
Wish you were here. This hut's lonely and those natives' incessant war chant is starting to drive me a bit wacky---er, um, wackier.
---Mike
Stop.
This is Mike.
Stop.
Happy to report, still alive.
Stop.
Presently held in small hut.
Stop.
Natives outside dance continuously in a circle.
Stop.
Have to go to the bathroom. (Not me, the natives.)
Stop.
Promise to post something substantive soon.
Stop.
Must get past Schweitzer Falls and the piranha first.
Stop.
Oh. Trader Sam says hi.
Stop.
Stopped by his village cafe for lunch. Prices have gone way up.
Stop.
He wanted to charge me an arm and a leg.
Stop.
Please, somebody make me stop.
Love you all.
Miss you.
Wish you were here. This hut's lonely and those natives' incessant war chant is starting to drive me a bit wacky---er, um, wackier.
---Mike
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Disneyland - Memorial Day Weekend 2010
We went to the Park this past Monday, May 31, 2010.
Of my many times there as a guest, I must say this trip ranks among the very best.
It was a perfect California day, with a brilliant blue sky, warm temperature and breezes that kept things just right. The attendance was just about perfect, too. You could see the ground. There were no unduly long lines.
And the Park.
The Park sparkled in a way that I thought I'd never see again. The paint on the buildings on Main Street was shiny. The newly refurbished Rivers of America flowed gracefully again past a dazzling New Orleans Square on this sunny day. Every figure in the Small World danced and sang in neatly pressed clothes without a hiccup or hitch. We were able to find Nemo in a Submarine Lagoon that glittered like a backyard pool in the Holmby Hills. Space Mountain gave us an early morning energy boost. Indiana Jones did the same---with every ride element working flawlessly. We had stage-side seating for Billy Hill and the Hillbillies at the Golden Horseshoe. My daughter Caitlin even got a picture with Billy before the show. Our youngest daughter got Billy's attention during the show---she is still missing her two front teeth and he offered her his special set of Hillbilly teeth to the delight of the audience.
We took the Davey Crockett Explorer Canoes for a race around the Island (probably the first time I've done that since my last Cast Member Canoe Race back in 1987!). My wife and I followed our daughters for a spin around the Autopia track and enjoyed its shady twists and turns. We steamed through the Grand Canyon and Primeval World. We cooled ourselves from the afternoon heat with Dole Whips at the Tiki Room lanai, followed by an air-conditioned performance by our good friend Fritz and the boys. I don't know if you realize this, but the Bird of Paradise is an elegant bird. It likes to be seen, but it loves to be heard. That's the word on street---or at least in the Room.
We raced down the icy slopes of the majestic Matterhorn. We asked for (and were cheerfully directed to) the last two rows of the train on Big Thunder (best seats in the house). Seven-year-old Madison breathlessly and toothlessly reminded me to "stare at the goat all the way around the turn at the bottom of the big hill---it makes it better!"
It really does.
I screamed loudly round the final turn---to bemused guests meandering along Thunder Trail---and into Dinosaur Gap. Just for the heck of it.
We boarded the proud Mark Twain and glided past new scenes (and some refurbished ones) along the river. Gone were the rotting mine train and keel boat. Now the Gullywhumper sits, restored and proud, at the old settler's cabin---which has been newly inhabited by a certain Mr. Fink. Deer, streams, jumping fish, a proud Indian Chief, skunks, beavers, even a live horse, could be seen at the river's edge. But wait, what's that? Do my eyes deceive me? Is that Fort Wilderness slowly rising anew on the Island?? Well, I'll be.
Even the Mark Twain had shiny paint on every railing, polished decks and a spanking new paddle wheel at her stern. We ran from one side of her to the other as we enjoyed the sights on each side of the river during our trip. Her whistle and bells as we approached the dock were loud, clear and filled with pride and energy.
We had plenty of time to head over to California Adventure during our day. Madison and I walked right on to Tower of Terror and laughed during every stomach lifting dropped. We rode Screamin' twice in a row! She even kept her eyes open on the loop on her second trip! We all floated and sailed on the Silly Symphony swings, taking in the fine, unobstructed view. We clacked along Mulholland Madness and then headed back to the Park.
As our day drew to a close, we opted for one more attraction.
You'll never guess which one.
Thank you Disneyland---and the team at Disney---for a great day!
As you exit the boat, please don't miss out on our Character Parade this evening. That's when all us cast members line up on Main Street after fireworks and watch you characters head to the parking lot. Goodbye now!
---Mike
Of my many times there as a guest, I must say this trip ranks among the very best.
It was a perfect California day, with a brilliant blue sky, warm temperature and breezes that kept things just right. The attendance was just about perfect, too. You could see the ground. There were no unduly long lines.
And the Park.
The Park sparkled in a way that I thought I'd never see again. The paint on the buildings on Main Street was shiny. The newly refurbished Rivers of America flowed gracefully again past a dazzling New Orleans Square on this sunny day. Every figure in the Small World danced and sang in neatly pressed clothes without a hiccup or hitch. We were able to find Nemo in a Submarine Lagoon that glittered like a backyard pool in the Holmby Hills. Space Mountain gave us an early morning energy boost. Indiana Jones did the same---with every ride element working flawlessly. We had stage-side seating for Billy Hill and the Hillbillies at the Golden Horseshoe. My daughter Caitlin even got a picture with Billy before the show. Our youngest daughter got Billy's attention during the show---she is still missing her two front teeth and he offered her his special set of Hillbilly teeth to the delight of the audience.
We took the Davey Crockett Explorer Canoes for a race around the Island (probably the first time I've done that since my last Cast Member Canoe Race back in 1987!). My wife and I followed our daughters for a spin around the Autopia track and enjoyed its shady twists and turns. We steamed through the Grand Canyon and Primeval World. We cooled ourselves from the afternoon heat with Dole Whips at the Tiki Room lanai, followed by an air-conditioned performance by our good friend Fritz and the boys. I don't know if you realize this, but the Bird of Paradise is an elegant bird. It likes to be seen, but it loves to be heard. That's the word on street---or at least in the Room.
We raced down the icy slopes of the majestic Matterhorn. We asked for (and were cheerfully directed to) the last two rows of the train on Big Thunder (best seats in the house). Seven-year-old Madison breathlessly and toothlessly reminded me to "stare at the goat all the way around the turn at the bottom of the big hill---it makes it better!"
It really does.
I screamed loudly round the final turn---to bemused guests meandering along Thunder Trail---and into Dinosaur Gap. Just for the heck of it.
We boarded the proud Mark Twain and glided past new scenes (and some refurbished ones) along the river. Gone were the rotting mine train and keel boat. Now the Gullywhumper sits, restored and proud, at the old settler's cabin---which has been newly inhabited by a certain Mr. Fink. Deer, streams, jumping fish, a proud Indian Chief, skunks, beavers, even a live horse, could be seen at the river's edge. But wait, what's that? Do my eyes deceive me? Is that Fort Wilderness slowly rising anew on the Island?? Well, I'll be.
Even the Mark Twain had shiny paint on every railing, polished decks and a spanking new paddle wheel at her stern. We ran from one side of her to the other as we enjoyed the sights on each side of the river during our trip. Her whistle and bells as we approached the dock were loud, clear and filled with pride and energy.
We had plenty of time to head over to California Adventure during our day. Madison and I walked right on to Tower of Terror and laughed during every stomach lifting dropped. We rode Screamin' twice in a row! She even kept her eyes open on the loop on her second trip! We all floated and sailed on the Silly Symphony swings, taking in the fine, unobstructed view. We clacked along Mulholland Madness and then headed back to the Park.
As our day drew to a close, we opted for one more attraction.
You'll never guess which one.
Thank you Disneyland---and the team at Disney---for a great day!
As you exit the boat, please don't miss out on our Character Parade this evening. That's when all us cast members line up on Main Street after fireworks and watch you characters head to the parking lot. Goodbye now!
---Mike
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Disneyland - Scant Observations From Main Street
Due to a shortage of time, today's post is presented, ala James Joyce, via stream-of-consciousness observations based upon my 1983 Disneyland wall map, among other things, and more trips to the Park than I can ever fully hope to remember...
Ahem...
"Your attention, please! The Disneyland Limited now arriving..."
Speckled leaves.
Ghouls beckon from the wall poster in the tunnel.
I hear a squeaky stroller wheel. The warm sun makes the green benches smoothly shiny.
Feathered hooves coconut clop and the white pole is so high amidst the bright flower faces at its feet.
To all who come.
Welcome.
The blue sky domes highly and the shops bustle with a by-gone sensibility.
Hello, Mr. Dinglinger?
--Yep
Miss Flump? Auralee Flump? Will you please get offa this line? Now, I know you're there 'cause I can hear your clock tickin', and it sounds like it's slow, too.
The smell of the roasted beans mixes with wrapped sucker sticks and taffy.
King me!
A bell "ding dings" outside the doorway.
Across the small street, candy canopy umbrella tables grandly dance o'er the huddled patrons in their midst. Toasted smells waft down the small alleyway.
The old gray mare she ain't what she used to be swirls in the background of one's hearing from the keys of an unseen piano.
Trolley tracks under foot, mind your ankles!
Glass and crystal sparkle castle-ly shapes and spidery lines.
Green satin bloused Esmeralda floats her hand over the deck and whispers of future things unseen.
Green metal posts twist like candy canes to gas lit bowls draped with triangle banners and fringed with balls of flowers.
A trolley bell rings "pardon me, coming through" while the lights chase each other around Coke Corner.
Crunch and toffee, caramel and fudge, waft unseen to one's nostrils.
Yellow and white.
Pink and blue.
Red, white and blue.
Skinny trees along walkways spatter shade and leaf.
The Hub spreads its arms like a splayed octopus at the foot of the Castle.
Pink and blue again.
Red and white.
Carnation flowers and ice cream.
Water flows 'neath wooden planks.
Swans drift.
I'm wishing.
I'm wishing.
For the one I love.
To find me.
To find me.
Today.
Today.
Logs stand tall and pointed and rustic.
The long steam whistle haunts the distance with its mournful happy call.
The white peak erupts a roar.
Screams and laughter flash by.
Funny plastic boxes on wheels glide over the entrance.
Glistening points shoot skyward at either side.
Will I go on shrinking...forever?
Yellow and purple and green flowers almost blind the eye in their brilliance.
A green, tall bus full of faces chugs by.
Rainbow balloons cling together in an inverted pyramid clutched by a yellow and red clad girl with black hair and blue eyes.
Green iron railings hug beds of flowers and shrubs.
"Let's go this way!"
"Wait for me!"
The smell of coffee and pretzels and popcorn and old green water and duck and swan mix with pineapple and waffle cones and diesel and heaven knows.
People and laughter and children and crying and strollers and hats, funny shaped hats, all moving and walking and spreading over the scene like wayward sheep or dandelion stems on the breeze.
Wonder and peace and joy and sweat and aching feet with tearful tired children scooped into parents' arms and onto shoulders and into stroller seats.
The night darkens and the trees develop tiny sparkles of light.
The street is aglow with yellow lights.
Flashing.
Steady.
Outlining the buildings on either side.
The crowd grows and fills. Anticipation pants and breathes and looks skyward.
Bursts of color splash the night sky and spread into a hundred arms of flickering, shimmering flecks of light.
Drifting and smoking and falling.
Music is everywhere.
The children ooh and ahh with their parents.
The crowd wells up as the sparkling little spirit glides o'er castletop.
Look!
Look!
There she goes!
More bursts of color and booms that resound in your chest and make the little ones clap hands to their ears.
Then silence and wafting smoke.
Yawns and sleepy small faces.
Cries and more yawns.
"It's been a big day."
"You're tired."
"Let's say good-bye for now."
A horde ambles on heavy feet toward the tunnels, filling the street and the curbs and marching, exhausted, onward---toward home.
One more line.
A child dazed and drooling dangles over a shoulder, eyes rolling under heavy lids---trying not to let go of the day and the sights and the excitement.
Just a minute more.
Sleep.
The roar of a big diesel rends the night and yellow and blue seats beckon the weary.
Please keep your balloons in your lap so the driver can see.
We hope you had a wonderful and memorable time in this happy place.
"Were we in "Pinocchio" or "Goofy"?
"I see it! There's the car!"
Key in ignition.
Lights on.
The engine hums and the car heads homeward, as though it knows the way.
Children slumber in seats.
The road smoothly bumps and sighs beneath.
Aching calves and backs of knees remind parents of their advancing mortality.
Father turns to mother, and knowing, tired smiles are exchanged.
This was a happy day.
(With deep apologies to Mr. Joyce and all who love literature).
---Mike.
Ahem...
"Your attention, please! The Disneyland Limited now arriving..."
Speckled leaves.
Ghouls beckon from the wall poster in the tunnel.
I hear a squeaky stroller wheel. The warm sun makes the green benches smoothly shiny.
Feathered hooves coconut clop and the white pole is so high amidst the bright flower faces at its feet.
To all who come.
Welcome.
The blue sky domes highly and the shops bustle with a by-gone sensibility.
Hello, Mr. Dinglinger?
--Yep
Miss Flump? Auralee Flump? Will you please get offa this line? Now, I know you're there 'cause I can hear your clock tickin', and it sounds like it's slow, too.
The smell of the roasted beans mixes with wrapped sucker sticks and taffy.
King me!
A bell "ding dings" outside the doorway.
Across the small street, candy canopy umbrella tables grandly dance o'er the huddled patrons in their midst. Toasted smells waft down the small alleyway.
The old gray mare she ain't what she used to be swirls in the background of one's hearing from the keys of an unseen piano.
Trolley tracks under foot, mind your ankles!
Glass and crystal sparkle castle-ly shapes and spidery lines.
Green satin bloused Esmeralda floats her hand over the deck and whispers of future things unseen.
Green metal posts twist like candy canes to gas lit bowls draped with triangle banners and fringed with balls of flowers.
A trolley bell rings "pardon me, coming through" while the lights chase each other around Coke Corner.
Crunch and toffee, caramel and fudge, waft unseen to one's nostrils.
Yellow and white.
Pink and blue.
Red, white and blue.
Skinny trees along walkways spatter shade and leaf.
The Hub spreads its arms like a splayed octopus at the foot of the Castle.
Pink and blue again.
Red and white.
Carnation flowers and ice cream.
Water flows 'neath wooden planks.
Swans drift.
I'm wishing.
I'm wishing.
For the one I love.
To find me.
To find me.
Today.
Today.
Logs stand tall and pointed and rustic.
The long steam whistle haunts the distance with its mournful happy call.
The white peak erupts a roar.
Screams and laughter flash by.
Funny plastic boxes on wheels glide over the entrance.
Glistening points shoot skyward at either side.
Will I go on shrinking...forever?
Yellow and purple and green flowers almost blind the eye in their brilliance.
A green, tall bus full of faces chugs by.
Rainbow balloons cling together in an inverted pyramid clutched by a yellow and red clad girl with black hair and blue eyes.
Green iron railings hug beds of flowers and shrubs.
"Let's go this way!"
"Wait for me!"
The smell of coffee and pretzels and popcorn and old green water and duck and swan mix with pineapple and waffle cones and diesel and heaven knows.
People and laughter and children and crying and strollers and hats, funny shaped hats, all moving and walking and spreading over the scene like wayward sheep or dandelion stems on the breeze.
Wonder and peace and joy and sweat and aching feet with tearful tired children scooped into parents' arms and onto shoulders and into stroller seats.
The night darkens and the trees develop tiny sparkles of light.
The street is aglow with yellow lights.
Flashing.
Steady.
Outlining the buildings on either side.
The crowd grows and fills. Anticipation pants and breathes and looks skyward.
Bursts of color splash the night sky and spread into a hundred arms of flickering, shimmering flecks of light.
Drifting and smoking and falling.
Music is everywhere.
The children ooh and ahh with their parents.
The crowd wells up as the sparkling little spirit glides o'er castletop.
Look!
Look!
There she goes!
More bursts of color and booms that resound in your chest and make the little ones clap hands to their ears.
Then silence and wafting smoke.
Yawns and sleepy small faces.
Cries and more yawns.
"It's been a big day."
"You're tired."
"Let's say good-bye for now."
A horde ambles on heavy feet toward the tunnels, filling the street and the curbs and marching, exhausted, onward---toward home.
One more line.
A child dazed and drooling dangles over a shoulder, eyes rolling under heavy lids---trying not to let go of the day and the sights and the excitement.
Just a minute more.
Sleep.
The roar of a big diesel rends the night and yellow and blue seats beckon the weary.
Please keep your balloons in your lap so the driver can see.
We hope you had a wonderful and memorable time in this happy place.
"Were we in "Pinocchio" or "Goofy"?
"I see it! There's the car!"
Key in ignition.
Lights on.
The engine hums and the car heads homeward, as though it knows the way.
Children slumber in seats.
The road smoothly bumps and sighs beneath.
Aching calves and backs of knees remind parents of their advancing mortality.
Father turns to mother, and knowing, tired smiles are exchanged.
This was a happy day.
(With deep apologies to Mr. Joyce and all who love literature).
---Mike.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Disneyland - Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls...
The words "electro-synthe-magnetic musical sounds" once gave me goosebumps nightly on Main Street U.S.A.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, Disneyland proudly presents our spectacular festival pageant of nighttime magic and imagination...in thousands of sparkling lights...
and electro-synthe-magnetic musical sounds.
...The
...Main Street
...Electrical
...Parade!"
It was with great sadness that I saw the parade end its run at Disneyland.
Now, alas, it has even left California Adventure, ending its run there this past April.
If you wish to see it, you can still catch it though.
In Florida.
It is at the Magic Kingdom for an extended stay. Thankfully, it has returned to Main Street, where it belongs! It is too bad Disneylanders now have to book a flight to Orlando in order to catch it.
That said, the Electrical Parade beats the complete tar out of "Spectro Magic," a parade that I could never stomach. Ack. It was like watching an inept cover band try to sound like the "real thing" at a Holiday Inn Hospitality Lounge somewhere in the mid-west. Perhaps worse.
Again, I digress.
I have long missed the warm summer nights as the crowd built along the Hub and down Main Street. Cast Members would banter and chat with guests as they jostled for positions along the curb. The throng would fill the sidewalks several people deep.
There was a festival spirit in the air. Kids sat wide-eyed with anticipation---even the 40+ year-old ones. A long day at the Park was about to close out in spectacular fashion---a brilliant light parade with bouncy, joyous music and beloved characters followed by the "Fantasy In The Sky" fireworks extravaganza. The crowd knew it and sensed it.
It almost hummed with anticipation.
People would finally sit for a while after running around the Park all day.
Some would sit for two hours or more to get the best seats!
Working guest control along the parade route in 1987, still ranks as one of my favorite Park experiences as a Cast Member. We would walk up and down and make sure that ropes were up, people were seated in the right places ("Uh, sir, I'm going to need you to step out of the planter, the viewing area is inside the ropes. Thank you!), strollers were collapsed (so there was more room and everyone could see), and guests were having a good time.
Often I worked Parade shifts in my Jungle costume, so guests would instantly start joking with me.
"Are you lost, skipper? Adventureland is over there!"
"Hey, where's your boat?"
"Where's your gun?"
"You aren't from around here, are you?"
Etc.
Believe me, I gave it right back to them, spieling and playing and goofing around---all the while getting paid for it (I could never get over that part!).
The anticipation grew steadily.
Teaser announcements would help build the drama, letting everyone know the Parade would soon be coming.
When the night settled in and the street lights went down, section by section, along the parade route, the robotic, techno-sounding musical intro announcement would surround the waiting horde:
"Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls..."
The crowd literally would go wild.
Kids cheering!
Adults cheering!
Everyone clapping in rhythmic unison.
In those moments, Disneyland along the Parade route truly was the Happiest Place on Earth.
Then the Blue Fairy would come into view and the Parade was on!
If you never saw the Electrical Parade on Main Street in Disneyland, I am sorry.
If you get a chance, book a flight to Orlando and catch it at the Magic Kingdom.
Perhaps, of course, it may someday return to its rightful spot in Disneyland.
For now, this is Mike, wishing you all a fabulous rest of your day or evening, wherever you may be!
---Mike
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, Disneyland proudly presents our spectacular festival pageant of nighttime magic and imagination...in thousands of sparkling lights...
and electro-synthe-magnetic musical sounds.
...The
...Main Street
...Electrical
...Parade!"
It was with great sadness that I saw the parade end its run at Disneyland.
Now, alas, it has even left California Adventure, ending its run there this past April.
If you wish to see it, you can still catch it though.
In Florida.
It is at the Magic Kingdom for an extended stay. Thankfully, it has returned to Main Street, where it belongs! It is too bad Disneylanders now have to book a flight to Orlando in order to catch it.
That said, the Electrical Parade beats the complete tar out of "Spectro Magic," a parade that I could never stomach. Ack. It was like watching an inept cover band try to sound like the "real thing" at a Holiday Inn Hospitality Lounge somewhere in the mid-west. Perhaps worse.
Again, I digress.
I have long missed the warm summer nights as the crowd built along the Hub and down Main Street. Cast Members would banter and chat with guests as they jostled for positions along the curb. The throng would fill the sidewalks several people deep.
There was a festival spirit in the air. Kids sat wide-eyed with anticipation---even the 40+ year-old ones. A long day at the Park was about to close out in spectacular fashion---a brilliant light parade with bouncy, joyous music and beloved characters followed by the "Fantasy In The Sky" fireworks extravaganza. The crowd knew it and sensed it.
It almost hummed with anticipation.
People would finally sit for a while after running around the Park all day.
Some would sit for two hours or more to get the best seats!
Working guest control along the parade route in 1987, still ranks as one of my favorite Park experiences as a Cast Member. We would walk up and down and make sure that ropes were up, people were seated in the right places ("Uh, sir, I'm going to need you to step out of the planter, the viewing area is inside the ropes. Thank you!), strollers were collapsed (so there was more room and everyone could see), and guests were having a good time.
Often I worked Parade shifts in my Jungle costume, so guests would instantly start joking with me.
"Are you lost, skipper? Adventureland is over there!"
"Hey, where's your boat?"
"Where's your gun?"
"You aren't from around here, are you?"
Etc.
Believe me, I gave it right back to them, spieling and playing and goofing around---all the while getting paid for it (I could never get over that part!).
The anticipation grew steadily.
Teaser announcements would help build the drama, letting everyone know the Parade would soon be coming.
When the night settled in and the street lights went down, section by section, along the parade route, the robotic, techno-sounding musical intro announcement would surround the waiting horde:
"Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls..."
The crowd literally would go wild.
Kids cheering!
Adults cheering!
Everyone clapping in rhythmic unison.
In those moments, Disneyland along the Parade route truly was the Happiest Place on Earth.
Then the Blue Fairy would come into view and the Parade was on!
If you never saw the Electrical Parade on Main Street in Disneyland, I am sorry.
If you get a chance, book a flight to Orlando and catch it at the Magic Kingdom.
Perhaps, of course, it may someday return to its rightful spot in Disneyland.
For now, this is Mike, wishing you all a fabulous rest of your day or evening, wherever you may be!
---Mike
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