If it is any consolation about Wishes to Tinkershell, belatedly, here's our saga:
We are here at WDW, staying at the Vistana, for 2 weeks. It is very hot, and the family is wimping out early. The two 13 year old females appear to be happier stalking males slightly shorter than themselves at the resort pools at night, as opposed to staying in the parks until the last dog is ceremoniously hung with a Big Bang at closing. I mean, really, you get them in the park at 9 am, and by noon they are whining that they are hot and tired and do we have to "do" anymore. Hello??? People, we're on vacation here. I PAID for these tickets.
Magic, people, where is the magic?? I cannot be genetically related to them. I suggested they put on tie-dye and they all stared at me. At then the 13 year old DD asked if she could get a henna tattoo on her nether region. I said only if it was shaped like a hidden Mickey.
In planning this trip, it was mostly good planning, except for the part where our second week was during free dining, which we aren't doing. Suddenly the parks have filled with hordes of people, who don't have nearly as much right to be there as we do. And have dining reservations, which we don't. Except of lot of them don't either, as evidenced by the yelling red-faced mothers, and sobbing princesses outside the castle.
But, I was determined that MY family would see Spectromagic and Wishes, by God, and that they would ENJOY it, in particular since the 13 year old friend prop that the DD brought along has never been to Disney.
So over we went one evening, getting there around 7:30. I knew that it was a MK EMH night, but I didn't tell them that. The park was teaming with extras brought in to create obstacles for us. They still had the parking guys out, who were parking people in the tail end of Goofy, even though there were tons of spaces up in Minnie.
We elbowed our way onto the monorail, past bag check, into the park, and on to the train. The plan was to see how long the line was for BTMRR. ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, she laughed bitterly. The second equally acceptable plan was to ride POTC or Haunted Mansion. We clawed our way to Liberty Square. The sign said 20 minutes. The queue was around beneath and over the hearse. At this point, I told the girls that we could either grab a place for Spectromagic and they could go find short boys to stalk, or we could go see Hall of Presidents again. Strangely, they opted to chill for the start of Spectromagic.
Spectromagic went by. And I felt the same way I always do. Wanting to love it, but realizing my heart's fidelity is for the Main Street Electrical Parade, which I grew up with at
Disneyland. Spectromagic is big and showy, but it isn't my childhood. Plus Bald Mountain just stayed shut as a mountain, and those awesp,e wings are my consolation for things that change. The cool thing about the Electrical Light Parade is that it has the world's most annoying song, but if you watch it long enough, you start to love it. And you can weave any other song into it without disrupting the beat. Well, maybe the second most annoying song, with a nod to IASW.
After Spectromagic was over, we looked around at the thousands in Liberty Square, and thought that maybe fighting our way over to Main Street in front of the castle my be a wise idea so we could make our egress in the same calendar year. We sincerely hoped that all of these new best friends were going to be staying for EMH, and we would take a solitary shuffle of shame as non-WDW resort guests out to our car. The town I live in now has 6000 people, except for the day when Punxsutawney Phil makes his prognostication, when we have 35,000, but only for 4 hours.
So there we were in front of the magical castle. Some tall Germans, to whom deodorant is an affectation of wimps, were surrounding us with smellovision. The invisible narrator announced the beginning of Wishes. And, for Tinkershell's sake, I tried to love it, I really did. It has the same plot structure as every other Disney production. It starts out all sweetness and light and white poofy sparkling things. Then it gets slightly more of a pulse, and then the villian threatens red exploding things, then Mickey saves the day. None of this was actually clear. Graham, our DS and an English Major so he knows these things, said "It's kind of hard to do a narrative arc with fireworks."
Then it was over. The kingdom was saved. The castle was pink and blue and the fireworks were white sparkles again.
It turned out that all the thousands of people at the front of the park wanted to go further up and further in, and those behind us wanted to go out and it was total body gridlock. As we tried to inch our way forward, Graham said, "Please don't take this wrong, Mom. But I like fireworks where they just shoot a bunch of stuff in the sky and blow it up. And I like color, not white sparkly stuff. In fact, the only part I really like is the finale. Wishes doesn't actually have a finale. It has a fake happy ever after. Except now I'm trying to get out of the park, and I'm not happy. No offense, Mom."
So there you have it. Compared to blowing a bunch of stuff up, Wishes is rather tiny, even up close.
We took the magic shortcut down the middle of the stores on the right hand of main street, which only a thousand other people knew about, as opposed to the 100,000 battling their way down the center of Main Street. I announced in my most terrible Ursula Voice to the girls: "If you stop for even one second to look at things they're selling, I will LEAVE you here. I mean it."
Wishes made me rather tiny too.