lborne
It all started with a rabbit
- Joined
- Sep 6, 2006
- Messages
- 1,387
I thought it would be fun to share my memory of my first visit to the world which I think, caused me to be such a Disney nut. And, to read what everyone else remembers from their first trip. Maybe this should go in the trip report forum.....
My first trip was in 1978. At that time, I did not watch Mickey Mouse cartoons. Not because I did not like them, but because Disney cartoons were not shown on any of the 5 stations our antenna was capable of capturing. Bugs Bunny and Scooby Do reigned the air waves then. I assume you who grew up in the 60s through 80s remember those glorious Saturday mornings which ushered in the beginning of the school free weekend. Sadly, those mornings were devoid of Mickey and friends. But, there was something better. And it could be found on television every Sunday evening. Those melancholy Sunday evenings that otherwise would be deeply depressing due to looming back-to-school Monday, were a time for anticipation and joy. Yes, you know exactly what I am talking about – The Wonderful World of Disney. That eclectic series of films, cartoons, nature shows and more that always kept me entertained and one of the main reasons I read the TV guide each week. And of course, being the marketing empire they are, Disney ran advertisements for their theme park in Florida. Living in the southeast, the ads were always about the Florida park and not California – due to the short flights to Orlando – which Delta and National Airlines reminded me about in each Sunday paper.
So, as children are so inclined to do, my sister and I begged, pleaded and whined to our parents during every commercial break to please please please take us to that mecca of kid’s fantasies in the Florida swamp. But even at age 7, I knew this was a long shot and I had no illusion that we’d ever be able to convince my parents. My tight-wad father’s idea of a typical vacation was camping in a tent, and for a truly luxurious vacation, taking the RV. My mother, being a school teacher, persuaded my father TWICE to take us to Williamsburg where we could be entertained by watching people in hilarious period costumes split wood for minimum wage. The only saving grace of those trips was Busch Gardens, which my father loved because young blonde German women served him beer and bratwurst while my mother took us on the rides.
Then, one hot July day in 1978 fate intervened and answered our prayers. A past business partner of my father’s, trying to get him to work at his firm located in Longwood, Florida, offered (ala Brady Bunch Hawaii Bound) to fly our family to Orlando, put us up in a nice hotel near Disney, and give us use of a company car. (As an aside, the firm was a distributer of items like those “As Seen on TV” products that you can now find broken at thrift stores nationwide. Also, when you consider the builder of the hotel in Hawaii was able to fly the entire Brady clan, including Alice, to Hawaii, it’s no wonder room prices are so high there).
Anyway, this was an offer my father could not refuse, even if he had no intention of joining the firm. So, in the great tradition of dad’s of his generation, he agreed without consulting my mother. In fact, he only told her (and us) about the trip on Thursday, despite the fact that we were flying out the next day. I’m sure he waited because he wanted to surprise us, and not because he did not want to see us jumping up and down for weeks on end.
To say I was excited was the understatement of the century – like saying World War II was a minor skirmish. I thought we would have all day Saturday and Sunday to spend at the Magic Kingdom since we were flying back on Monday. However, only one day would be spent at the park – Saturday. Sunday was reserved for church (WHAT?? The Magic Kingdom did not qualify as a church?) and a tour of the firm’s warehouse – (surprisingly, not very magical). It was a minor disappointment, but hey, at least we were not going back to Williamsburg.
I don’t even remember Friday excepting the flight over, but now it was Saturday morning. We departed the hotel late – around 10:30 am if I remember correctly, because frankly, no one, including myself, had a clue as to when the park opened. My parents, thinking of Sears on a Sunday, envisioned it would open about 10 or 11, so we surely did not want to be there early. After parking the car, it was just about time for another minor disappointment – this one a bit more foreshadowing of things to come. After we purchased our ticket booklets (I don’t have to explain that to you like I do the outsiders), it was time to head to the other side of the Seven Seas Lagoon. Of course, only the monorail was the proper form of transportation. Who wants to ride a ferry boat? Not me – especially seeing as how we rode them across the Mississippi river from time to time back home. But the line for the monorail was long, and the ferry line was short. We took the ferry.
After trudging off the ferry with everyone else, the magical train station came into view and the entrance beaconed us. I may not have known the opening time of the park, but I definitely knew which ride to go on first. Yep – Space Mountain. Nothing like being hurled through space to help your stomach loosen its grip on breakfast. Even my father agreed that this should be our first ride, although as he saw everyone else heading that way, I think he was having second thoughts. He definitely had second thoughts when he saw the line. But, he had been warned by his business partner that a Saturday during the summer would mean long lines at Disney, and to just grin and bear it. After Space Mountain, we then rode 20,000 leagues and IASW before having lunch – but for the life of me I can’t remember where, and neither do my parents. This will trouble me for the rest of my life. It was nearing the hottest part of the day, so next we went on Haunted Mansion, Country Bear Jamboree, Pirates and Jungle Cruise. By this time, it was probably 3pm because my father was starting to get cranky. Not for lack of beer, but for the oppressive heat, humidity and sea of humanity everywhere. Next we rode the paddle wheel steam boat instead of BTMRR because it was not as crowded (sound familiar?) Then, it happened – The Meltdown. No, not my little sister – my father. We were waiting in line in the hot sun for either Peter Pan or Mr. Toad’s wild ride or Sleeping Beauty (One of the dark rides – I don’t remember which one) and he lost his cool. Actually, he had lost it a few hours before. He just up and decided it was time to go – that it was too ^$%#& hot and too &*#(% crowded. I vaguely remember being dragged down main street kicking and screaming. And that was the end of my Disney park experience. I have my good memories and 4 (yes, a total of 4) old faded photos they took of nothing particularly interesting. While I was pretty disappointed at the time as you can imagine, it all worked out in the end. One summer in 1991 I worked at Disney in Main Street Ops and I always came to work early or on my days off so that I could spend free time in the parks (by then they had EPCOT and Disney MGM too). I now go as often as I can since I live just about 1.5 hrs away.
My first trip was in 1978. At that time, I did not watch Mickey Mouse cartoons. Not because I did not like them, but because Disney cartoons were not shown on any of the 5 stations our antenna was capable of capturing. Bugs Bunny and Scooby Do reigned the air waves then. I assume you who grew up in the 60s through 80s remember those glorious Saturday mornings which ushered in the beginning of the school free weekend. Sadly, those mornings were devoid of Mickey and friends. But, there was something better. And it could be found on television every Sunday evening. Those melancholy Sunday evenings that otherwise would be deeply depressing due to looming back-to-school Monday, were a time for anticipation and joy. Yes, you know exactly what I am talking about – The Wonderful World of Disney. That eclectic series of films, cartoons, nature shows and more that always kept me entertained and one of the main reasons I read the TV guide each week. And of course, being the marketing empire they are, Disney ran advertisements for their theme park in Florida. Living in the southeast, the ads were always about the Florida park and not California – due to the short flights to Orlando – which Delta and National Airlines reminded me about in each Sunday paper.
So, as children are so inclined to do, my sister and I begged, pleaded and whined to our parents during every commercial break to please please please take us to that mecca of kid’s fantasies in the Florida swamp. But even at age 7, I knew this was a long shot and I had no illusion that we’d ever be able to convince my parents. My tight-wad father’s idea of a typical vacation was camping in a tent, and for a truly luxurious vacation, taking the RV. My mother, being a school teacher, persuaded my father TWICE to take us to Williamsburg where we could be entertained by watching people in hilarious period costumes split wood for minimum wage. The only saving grace of those trips was Busch Gardens, which my father loved because young blonde German women served him beer and bratwurst while my mother took us on the rides.
Then, one hot July day in 1978 fate intervened and answered our prayers. A past business partner of my father’s, trying to get him to work at his firm located in Longwood, Florida, offered (ala Brady Bunch Hawaii Bound) to fly our family to Orlando, put us up in a nice hotel near Disney, and give us use of a company car. (As an aside, the firm was a distributer of items like those “As Seen on TV” products that you can now find broken at thrift stores nationwide. Also, when you consider the builder of the hotel in Hawaii was able to fly the entire Brady clan, including Alice, to Hawaii, it’s no wonder room prices are so high there).
Anyway, this was an offer my father could not refuse, even if he had no intention of joining the firm. So, in the great tradition of dad’s of his generation, he agreed without consulting my mother. In fact, he only told her (and us) about the trip on Thursday, despite the fact that we were flying out the next day. I’m sure he waited because he wanted to surprise us, and not because he did not want to see us jumping up and down for weeks on end.
To say I was excited was the understatement of the century – like saying World War II was a minor skirmish. I thought we would have all day Saturday and Sunday to spend at the Magic Kingdom since we were flying back on Monday. However, only one day would be spent at the park – Saturday. Sunday was reserved for church (WHAT?? The Magic Kingdom did not qualify as a church?) and a tour of the firm’s warehouse – (surprisingly, not very magical). It was a minor disappointment, but hey, at least we were not going back to Williamsburg.
I don’t even remember Friday excepting the flight over, but now it was Saturday morning. We departed the hotel late – around 10:30 am if I remember correctly, because frankly, no one, including myself, had a clue as to when the park opened. My parents, thinking of Sears on a Sunday, envisioned it would open about 10 or 11, so we surely did not want to be there early. After parking the car, it was just about time for another minor disappointment – this one a bit more foreshadowing of things to come. After we purchased our ticket booklets (I don’t have to explain that to you like I do the outsiders), it was time to head to the other side of the Seven Seas Lagoon. Of course, only the monorail was the proper form of transportation. Who wants to ride a ferry boat? Not me – especially seeing as how we rode them across the Mississippi river from time to time back home. But the line for the monorail was long, and the ferry line was short. We took the ferry.
After trudging off the ferry with everyone else, the magical train station came into view and the entrance beaconed us. I may not have known the opening time of the park, but I definitely knew which ride to go on first. Yep – Space Mountain. Nothing like being hurled through space to help your stomach loosen its grip on breakfast. Even my father agreed that this should be our first ride, although as he saw everyone else heading that way, I think he was having second thoughts. He definitely had second thoughts when he saw the line. But, he had been warned by his business partner that a Saturday during the summer would mean long lines at Disney, and to just grin and bear it. After Space Mountain, we then rode 20,000 leagues and IASW before having lunch – but for the life of me I can’t remember where, and neither do my parents. This will trouble me for the rest of my life. It was nearing the hottest part of the day, so next we went on Haunted Mansion, Country Bear Jamboree, Pirates and Jungle Cruise. By this time, it was probably 3pm because my father was starting to get cranky. Not for lack of beer, but for the oppressive heat, humidity and sea of humanity everywhere. Next we rode the paddle wheel steam boat instead of BTMRR because it was not as crowded (sound familiar?) Then, it happened – The Meltdown. No, not my little sister – my father. We were waiting in line in the hot sun for either Peter Pan or Mr. Toad’s wild ride or Sleeping Beauty (One of the dark rides – I don’t remember which one) and he lost his cool. Actually, he had lost it a few hours before. He just up and decided it was time to go – that it was too ^$%#& hot and too &*#(% crowded. I vaguely remember being dragged down main street kicking and screaming. And that was the end of my Disney park experience. I have my good memories and 4 (yes, a total of 4) old faded photos they took of nothing particularly interesting. While I was pretty disappointed at the time as you can imagine, it all worked out in the end. One summer in 1991 I worked at Disney in Main Street Ops and I always came to work early or on my days off so that I could spend free time in the parks (by then they had EPCOT and Disney MGM too). I now go as often as I can since I live just about 1.5 hrs away.