| |
this just in
by Debra Kamin
the happiest place on earth
It happens every year. The heat sets in. The air seems to hold, thick
and sticky, above our heads. Sounds are amplified, colors blurr, and thirst
is unquenchable.
You can blast the AC as much as you want, but it won’t matter. When
the air doesn’t move, neither can you. You get bored. You get grumpy.
It’s the Ides of August, and there’s only one thing to do.
Walt Disney must have had San Diego summers in mind when he plopped his
technicolor paradise down on the map. A mere jaunt north up I-5 takes
you to the only place on earth where mouse ears count as couture and cotton
candy is a perfectly acceptable lunch substitute.
If you are a day-tripper looking to beat the heat, I whole-heartedly recommend
a visit to the happiest place on earth: Disneyland.
I don’t need to laud Disney. Any good Southern California resident
knows that a day in Fantasyland means a sweet photo op in front of Cinderella’s
castle, a nauseating spin in a gargantuan teacup, and a few dips and turns
inside of a large plastic elephant named Dumbo. It’s fun and games
and a fistful of cash. For those of you with little ones, a day at Disney
is probably easy to justify; what a riot is it to watch your child chat
with the lady with the white umbrella and know that she actually believes
she’s talking to Mary Poppins! For the rest of us though, too old
to ignore the make-up but too young to have babies of our own, is there
any reason to keep coming back?
I say, absolutely.
I say, wholeheartedly yes.
During a recent day at Disneyland, I rode in the front car of the Thunder
Mountain Railroad, twice. I scored the highest among my group of friends
on Buzz Lightyear’s AstroBlasters, and I sweated in a fat furry
hug from my absolute favorite Disney [ne Pixar] character, Sulley.
I felt myself catch my breath on California Adventure’s incredible
feat, “Soaring Over California.” My screams blended with giggles
as my bobsled tumbled down the sides of the Matterhorn mountain. I taunted
the ghosts in the Haunted Mansion, and I sat beside the Mark Twain riverboat
and watched the 50th anniversary fireworks in my boyfriend’s arms.
This was more than a good day. This was a vacation from the world.
At Disneyland, there are no newspapers. There are no internet cafes in
which one can log on to check email. I’m sure there’s a cell
phone tower providing service somewhere, but with the “It’s
a Small World” jingle stuck in my head all day, who could hear a
ring?
Now, I am a news junkie. I turn on CNN as I’m making breakfast in
the morning and switch to MSNBC as I sit down to eat it. I skim the New
York Times while in line at Starbucks, and I’ll read The Los Angeles
Times and The Washington Post on one web browser while simultaneously
checking my email on another. I am unable to keep myself from clicking,
skimming, and flipping through headlines all day long, so it never fails
that I am up to date with the various Waterloos that our world keeps managing
to keep itself into.
On the day I was at the park, two car bombs exploded at a Shi’ite
mosque in Baghdad and killed over 40 people (Guardian). Four U.S. soldiers
were charged with the rape and murder of an Iraqi teenager and killing
her family (Reuters), and Israel’s offensive in the Gaza strip,
in search of captured soldier Gilad Shalit, continued (Haaretz).
A Russian airbus 310 skid on a wet runway, overshot its landing strip,
and crashed, killing 122 passengers (New York Times). And the story dominating
the headlines, Star Jones’ Reynolds’ vacant seat on ABC’s
“The View” will, it was announced, be filled temporarily with
only a bevy of guest stars (UPI).
The only explosions I saw were the brilliant 50th anniversary fireworks;
the only death when Mickey slayed the “Fantasmic” dragon.
It was more than enough for me. I arrived home, thirsty and sunburned
and ready for bed.
In the morning, as I poured myself cereal, I turned on CNN to see what
I had missed. And then, just to be sure, I switched to MSNBC.
For feedback, contact editor@sdjewishjournal.com.
|