Recently, out of the blue, our Little Guy asked me, “Can we
go to Disney World?”
I know that most parents get just as excited as their kiddos
do when they hear mention of the Magic Kingdom.
Me? Not so much.
Why, you ask? Why
does the ‘greatest place on Earth’ seem anything BUT great to me? It’s simple really – it was after a day of
fun and Mickey Mouse that I experienced the single most traumatic event of my
life.
Indulge me, if you will, while I venture back to 1991. I was seventeen, enjoying some quality time
on a lovely family vacation with Mom, Dad, and my baby brother (he was 8 years
old at the time). We had driven the family mini-van from our
little town in the Midwest to Orlando.
On our way, we’d made stops at my grandma’s house in Kentucky and
Savannah Georgia for some sightseeing.
We were in high spirits when we reached Disney World, fully ready for a
day of fun. We rode rides, ate cotton
candy, watched a show, bought souvenirs and all the other stuff that visitors
do there…
Evening was approaching and rather suddenly things began to
change. My Mom has struggled with severe
allergies for years, and on this particular day she started to have a reaction
to one of the many tropical flowers that were planted everywhere. She was weak and Dad felt he needed to stay
with her. He thrust the keys my way,
reminded me how to get to the van and instructed me to get the van and come
right back. I jogged away in the
direction he had shown me and after several minutes I found the van.
Now, prior to this day I had only ever driven in our small
town of approximately 7,000. I’d never
driven on an interstate or dealt with heavy traffic at all. It seemed like it would be no big deal
though, after all my task was to drive from our lot to the spot near the
entrance where my family waited. “I can
handle this,” I thought to myself.
At first it was even fun.
I felt grown-up and felt sure that I’d been given more responsibility
than I’d ever known before. Also, I knew
that doing this chore was helping my family and that made me feel good. So there I was driving through our lot toward
the park – when I came upon my first obstacle.
The guys at the little booth that connected our lot to the next one would
not let me pass. I began to feel
nervous, but being an industrious gal – I figured there would have to be
another way around and so I went the other way.
Once in the next lot, I was again not allowed to go closer to the park –
only farther away.
Within minutes I found myself where no small town girl with
zero city driving experience should be – the crazy busy freeway in front of
Disney World.
To say I was scared would maybe be the biggest
understatement of all time. I was
petrified. This was before the days of
cell phones. I had no way to contact my
parents to let them know where I was. I
was bawling like a baby when I saw the next Disney World exit and took it. This time (after being told ‘no’ by yet
another parking lot attendant) I simply parked and started to run. I ran for what felt like forever, tears
streaming down my face.
I found my folks. Mom
was feeling worse - not better, and after hearing my story, Dad was angry to
say the least… not at me, but at the guys who wouldn’t let me through.
“They’ll let ME through,” he said with a determined
expression.
To this day I don’t know what he said to them, but they did
let him through. He helped Mom into the
car and then made sure my brother and I were also loaded and secured. The car was quiet for a while. We were all thinking about what had happened,
and thankfully what didn’t. From that
day on, my thoughts of Disney World have always been dark - except for when I
think of my Dad rescuing me.
I suppose the truth is that although that day was scary, it
was also a day filled with comfort and safety – the comfort and safety that
only a loving and protective father can give.
And I have to admit it was fun to meet Mickey Mouse and see the Country
Bears…..
So, maybe we will do Disney World someday. We’ll see.
I just know that if we do go, I’m not driving.
