A Disney Princess


I look around me and I see plastic & pristine emulations of artifacts from the American frontier. I’ve been standing in the center of a herd of overheated humans. Is this torture? An apocalypse?

Nope. It’s Splash Mountain; we’re “roughing it.” It’s here in this line at Disney World where I feel most human. As I move up the line and into the roller coaster seat, I’m not looking at the decorative lanterns anymore; I’m looking down at the puddle of water and patches of black mold on my seat. The last time I came here, I never noticed these details, only the magic. Poor service pisses me off, and why isn’t there more trees, more shade?

But, I admit, even with my newly attained adult perceptions, I still feel the stoke, see the sparkle and admire the impressive landscape.

Do I feel like a princess though? No. Not here, not at Magic Kingdom where they won’t let me even cross the moat to see Belle’s Castle, unless I have a reservation at the restaurant inside the thing. They never tell you that you can’t come near it when they advertise.

Gaston, however, was a hit. I enjoyed watching him explain to little girls that Belle is not really in love with the beast, that she is suffering from Stockholm syndrome! He may be on to something there.

I feel the most like a Princess here, not in the Kingdom but in the hotel suite.
What I admire now is not the untouchable castles, it’s the luxurious whirlpool bathtub, the Key West look-alike decor, the in-suite washer and dryer, how comfortable the bed is.


Much more magical than the Magic Kingdom is the garden of wildlife that visits the landscape behind our porch. A red cardinal, a great blue heron, a hummingbird and a rabbit have all stopped by. The rabbit eats the robust Disney grass like a champ. He knows where the grass is greener.


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