i think it's time to go home

After being regaled with the tale of my defense of the People Mover, my mother rolled her eyes and my father placed his hand upon my shoulder, leaned in and said "Son, you told us all many times that the People Mover was your favorite ride. And let me tell you, it was no fun to go on 30 times a day. We were patient." So, faced with the testimony of my closest family, I retract my claim that it was not my favorite. It was my favorite. I do have selective memory. And although I would like to reiterate my stance that I was just a kid and it was just an amusement park ride and therefore not the torture that my family makes it out to be, I cannot. You see, CLK also told a story the other day of a particular trip to Disneyland. It was after dark, getting a bit late, and it was my turn to pick a ride. You can guess which ride I picked. According to her version of the story, she along with my parents groaned at the prospect of riding the dreaded People Mover again, but reluctantly agreed after it was pointed out to them that it was my turn to pick a ride for better or worse. You can't say I had bad intentions, eager as I was to see the Storm Trooper and to race alongside my buddies from TRON. It just so happens that the rest of the ride wasn't altogether exciting. So it goes that after the initial excitement to go on the ride, we began to fade into a People Mover induced lethargy. My dad then, using our exhausted state as an excuse, suggested we go home. CLK turned her devilish eyes on me, uttered words not fit for a naval base and the Happiest Place on Earth was happy for me no more.

Now, I don't actually remember the event so this is just an interpretation of CLK's tale. It is a bit funny and I can definitely see how that night would have been very frustrating for somebody who didn't like the ride, no matter how patient they were. I'll go a step further and say that the story frustrates me, all these years later, to think of that overused sleepiness gambit to get us to go home. Now, before you defend my parents, I can imagine that it's hard to drag kids out of Disneyland and it just was the most opportune time for them to do it. But, it's damned frustrating to a kid and this certainly was not the only time they used this excuse; we were very upset when we discovered their tactics. You see, many a trip to Disneyland ended after a visit to the universally dreaded America Sings. It was nearly 20 minutes long and consisted of sitting in a theater watching animals sing. That's it folks. To a child, sitting still for 20 minutes after 10 o'clock is akin to Superman putting on underwear made of kryptonite. Even after we figured out our parent's ruse we couldn't help but fall asleep, as if the rotating theater were gently rocking us to sleep as the animatronic animals sang us patriotic lullabies. Today when I go on Splash Mountain, with its recycled animatronic robots from America Sings, I still get sleepy. It's Disney's example of Pavlovian conditioning. Somebody should write a study on this effect for a journal.



I think I'm going to have a seizure just looking at that eagle. At least on the People Mover, the wind in your face and the enjoyable modern music helped keep you awake. Ok, not really. I really have no excuse for the People Mover except that I liked it as a child. The same could not be said of America Sings. While both CLK and I would agree that nearly every ride at Disneyland offered some appeal to us, America Sings stood out as the lone attraction for which we harbored a deep resentment. To go on America Sings was to go to sleep. To go to sleep was to go home.

And so it happened that we began to revolt against the very idea of going on America Sings. If only we were organized. We could have locked arms around the statue of Walt in protest. We might have enlisted the help of others to stand with us against the parental atrocities being perpetrated upon us; the innocents in a modern crime of neglect and abuse. The local news would have been called. In our television debut, we would have been downright electric. Two sniffling kids without a souvenir to be found on their person, clutching the copper leg of the statue of a man who fought for the rights of all kids to be happy. Who could deny our plee? Hal Fishman, no doubt, would have portrayed us in a flattering light as would the other LA newsmongers. Our lives may have been forever changed! Instead of blogging today about the trivialities of our lives, we would be the faces of children's rights at Disney theme parks. Our blog would be devoted to the dividing issues that bifurcate families and pit the adults against their children while visiting the Happiest Place On Earth. Can't you see it? The issue is a cash cow mouse. And for my part I would focus on the singular issue that every child faces nearly every day at Disneyland. The right to choose ones own ride. Our rallying cry must be simple yet catchy. Something symbolic of our struggles and representative of the earthly choices that God has bestowed upon us. A grass-roots slogan that even the most cynical of observers can embrace. It's not too late for change to happen.

"Viva los Children! Remember the PeopleMover!"
Please sign the petition.