Down with the Browns in Old Disney Town

Over the Thanksgiving break we decided to take the kids to Disneyland. None of my kids had ever been, and I myself had not been since I was 18 years old, over twelve years. The trip was Kate’s mother’s (Pat’s) idea. She and her husband Drew invited us, Drew’s sister Nancy, Drew’s son and family, and Kate’s brothers Mac and Jim and their families. The day we were to leave, we received a call from Nancy, asking what size T-shirts we all wore. Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t have a problem with everyone wearing the same T-shirts. Each year on the 4th of July we all wear our Old Navy T-shirts for a picture, and I’m okay with that. Shirts that are bought at a store and not customized are fine. Custom T-shirts are not. Mac put it best when he said “I refuse to wear a T-shirt that says ‘Down with the Browns in old Disney Town’.” Their last name is Brown. I agree. I saw people in the park with red shirts and white lettering that said “I’m with Bob”. Then one time I saw a man with a matching shirt that said “I’m Bob”. I also saw a family with matching shirts that said “2006: The year of John”. One young man (presumably John) had a shirt that said “2006: The year of me”. Fortunately for us nothing ever came of the matching T-shirt idea.
This isn’t to say that we didn’t all look like dorks in matching apparel in the park. On the first day in the park (Thanksgiving) Pat had the idea that we would all get a pair of mouse ears to wear in the park. I agreed to this because mouse ears are acceptable, if not mandatory. The majority of the ears the adults picked had flashing lights in the ears. These lights came in handy at night when we wanted to find each other.
There is one downside to the mouse ears. The merchants refuse to embroider a nickname on a hat. I can understand the policy, but my kids don’t know who Lauren is. To them she’s Bean. On the other hand, I can see why Bean is not an acceptable thing to embroider on the ears. We found out that ‘Bean’ is a derogatory term used for Mexican migrant workers, and in Southern California there are many. But the policy of nick names is not consistent. My brother-in-law’s wife Carolina goes by Pilu. The merchant agreed to embroider Pilu on the hat, no questions asked. But hey, what are you going to do?

Lost in California


I experienced one of the worst feelings I’d ever known while in the California Adventure part of the park. I took Whitney and Patrick on the Ferris wheel while Kate attended to the younger children. After we exited the ride, I followed Whitney toward the Maliboomer. We were in a thick crowd of people, and I was holding P’s hand, when suddenly I lost grip. I had brushed past a guy, and Patrick pulled out of my palm. I turned to find P only to discover that I couldn’t see him. I walked in the direction where I thought he’d been, but as the crowd thinned, I knew he was gone. Whit and I searched around the immediate area for about five minutes until I conceded that we needed help. I approached a ride operator and explained what had happened. He called three more park employees over to fan out and expand the search.
The feeling of knowing that your four year old son is lost seven hundred miles from home is hard to describe. It starts with a ten pound weight that drops to the bottom of your stomach, followed by a wave of nausea. My heart was racing and my hands were shaking. I could barely dial Kate’s cell phone number to tell her what had happened. And trust me that is a hard call to make. Kate was on the other side of the park and sent Mac to come help with the search.
Security showed up and asked what he looks like. I showed them a picture from my cell phone, and described his clothes. I was told to stay put, so that I could be found by security. That was when I felt the most helpless. The security guard soon returned to inform me that he had been found by a Good Samaritan who had taken him to a security desk. The whole ordeal lasted about 20 minutes that felt like an eternity.
While waiting for him to be found, I kept thinking about how quickly he had disappeared, and wondered if someone hadn’t picked him up and hauled him off. This was foolish of course. Anyone who kidnapped P would be begging me to take him back in five minutes…
We lost Patrick again later that night. We had gone into a store to find some souvenirs when he disappeared. Again it was just as quick. The second time my first move was to place Drew at the door to make sure he didn’t get outside. P was quickly found, and I then took a ball point pen and wrote Kate’s cell phone number up his arm with the instruction to show it to a Disney worker if he should get lost. But of course he didn’t stray at all after that.
Patrick wasn’t the only child to get lost. Whit became separated from Kate in Toon Town, but only momentarily. Whitney is old enough to know that if she gets lost the best thing to do is stop moving. The first time we lost P he just kept walking. Samantha tried to wander away once, but we were able to spot her before she got too far. Pat also lost Mac’s oldest son Logan, but only for a few minutes. But don’t lecture me about placing a leash on my kids. I’ll never do that.

A Real Show-Stopper

Among the rides that Patrick really disliked was Space Mountain. I was disappointed to hear of his displeasure after riding, because it is by far my favorite. Whitney, on the other hand really liked it. So on our last night in the Park, she and I rode together. We were able to get seats on the front of the car. After settling into the seats, we placed our loose items in the little bag at the front of the car. As Whit was folding her glasses, the car jerked forward, and she dropped her specs out of the car and under the track. Since we were already loaded we rode the ride, and then told the ride operator of what had happened. The girl didn’t want to do too much about it until I explained that the glasses were prescription and Whit can’t see without them.
The girl had a gripper on the end of a stick that she used to try and fish out the glasses between passenger loading. There was an hour wait for the ride, and they didn’t want to stop the ride. She couldn’t reach, so finally another employee with longer arms too a stab at it. He finally got the glasses, but as he lifted them out to hand them to the girl he dropped them further into the track. At this point, there was no way around it: They had to shut down the ride. Eventually the glasses were retrieved undamaged.
Whitney was a little embarrassed about the episode on Space Mountain, and I can understand. While the ride employees were gracious about the inconvenience, Whit could tell that she had caused a problem, even though I kept telling her it was just an accident. Later we attended Phantasmic. We got there pretty close to show time, so we didn’t have a great spot. I could see because of my longshanks, but no one else could. Whitney soon lost interest because she couldn’t see, so she sat down and entertained herself. A crowd control usher noticed her and invited her to a better seat. Nancy went with her so she wouldn’t be alone, and the usher took them right up front. I pulled the usher aside and thanked her, explaining what had happened earlier at Space Mountain. I could tell that the good seats for the show really made Whitney’s day.
Whitney is a good kid. She is well intentioned and a sweetheart. But she is the most unlucky child I’ve ever known. In addition to the Space Mountain incident, she also got the belt loop of her Levis caught on a part of a fence outside the Haunted Mansion. It took a little bit of doing to get her free, and I contemplated cutting her loose. But seriously, who else do you know who has had that happen?

Wonder woman

My wife Kate wears me out. At times I can only stand back in wonder and amusement as I watch her go. My intentions for Disneyland were somewhat selfish. I didn’t want to be relegated solely to kiddie rides. I wanted to ride some fun rides too. Kate’s whole focus for the Disney trip was to make sure that the kids did everything that they wanted. As a result she spent a good deal of time standing in lines for the kids’ rides, and making sure Whitney met all of the Disney princesses.
Kate bought Whitney an autograph book on the first day, and from there Whit became obsessed with getting as many autographs as possible. Kate hiked her butt all over the park chasing down John Hancocks. The one autograph that was missing that Whit really wanted was Minnie Mouse. Kate figured out when and where she would be, and got there on our last day in the park. When the bell rang Goofy came out, and Kate nearly burst into tears. Fortunately Minnie was close by, and Whitney completed her book. Had we not been able to track Minnie down, I was ready to steal the book and forge the signature. She would have never known the difference. But thanks to Kate’s determination I didn’t have to resort to any trickery.
Each night when the little kids would get tired Kate would take them back to the hotel and bed them down, allowing me to stay in the park with the older kids and keep riding rides. That was a lot of work for her and I appreciate it dearly. Friday night she even endured watching a Jazz/Lakers game just so that she could tell me what happened. The Jazz won, for which I am grateful. I detest Kobe Bryant. On the last day of the park Kate got the kids ready by herself and got them to the park because I went with Mac, since we had early admission tickets. She said it was no big deal, since she gets them ready every day while I am at work, but it is a big deal, because we were on vacation. She insists that she doesn’t mind.
Kate said that she wanted to take care of the little kids because she gets motion sick on the rides. While there is some truth to that, I know better. She is completely selfless. Speaking of motion sickness, Kate did break down and ride the tea cups because the kids insisted. Now, I love the tea cups. I took Patrick and Samantha twice, and both times knocked them both over because I got the cup spinning so fast. Kate went first thing in the day and got really sick. But she made the sacrifice for the kids.
Like I said, Kate is Wonder woman. We left early Sunday morning to drive home. Pat said we would get moving about 5AM, which translated to 9AM by Pat Brown time, but Kate insisted that we’d be gone by 7AM come hell or high water. At 6:55AM we rolled out of the parking lot, because Kate got our lazy arses out of bed and moving.

A Big Splash

Kate came up with the idea of getting pictures of all the girls in one picture from the final drop of Splash Mountain, and one of the boys (I prefer ‘men’). The ladies went first, and we got a great picture. When it was the gents’ turn to go, Mac and I, discussing how wet we got when we rode before the park opened, decided that Patrick needed to get really wet. I don’t know what Mac weighs, but he is easily the heaviest of all of us. So we placed Patrick on the front of the log ride with Mac in the second seat and me third. We knew that we were in for a big splash when the log initially failed to hook onto the ramp leading to the last big drop off. There was a grinding noise for a few seconds before we began to ascend. After dropping off the peak, we smiled for the camera, and then Mac and I leaned forward. When the log splashed down the nose dropped under, and a tidal wave roared above us. Our mission was accomplished: P was soaked. Mac and I were also drenched. The best part of it was that P never even knew that we were purposely trying to soak him.
Thursday night I attempted to take Whit, P and Samanth on Splash Mountain. I say ‘attempted’ because even though I knew Samantha was too short to ride it slipped my mind. We had fast passes, so we walked right in, only to be stopped in the loading area by the ride operator. He made Samantha stand under the measuring stick and summarily dismissed us from the line unapologetically. She was two inches short. Because I wasn’t able to take Samantha, P and Whitney couldn’t go alone, since they both weren’t over 9 years old. What bothers me isn’t that we weren’t able to ride. Rules are rules, and I should have paid attention. What makes me mad is how much of a jerk the guy was about it. He could have been nice to my kids, who started to cry after being rejected. I guess he just forgot that he was working in the happiest place on earth. But what really made me mad was after I took Samanth back to Kate and returned with Whit and P I saw not once, but twice where the same guy allowed children who weren’t tall enough ride. Why was I singled out? If you’re going to enforce a rule, enforce the rule. Don’t be inconsistent.
My fondest memory of Splash Mountain came from a previous trip. When I was 18 I went to Disneyland with my friend Rob and his family. Rob, his brother and I decided that it would be funny to get a picture of all three of us giving the ‘finger’ to the camera. We were young and full of beans and all thought we were oh-so original. We followed through, only to find out that not only will they not display the picture, not only will they not sell you the picture, but they will gently invite you to leave the park if you try it again. We still thought it was funny…

Bugged

The California Adventure Park has a Bug’s Life show that is 3D and interactive. I really liked the film and wanted to check it out. We all went. But before we went we should have remembered that Samantha is deathly afraid of all shapes and sizes. She survived the show, but didn’t appreciate it. I still thought it was a cool show and highly recommend it.
Speaking of rides that the kids didn’t like, Patrick and Whitney detested the Hollywood Tower Hotel. I am a big fan of the original Rod Serling Twilight Zone TV shows, and thought the ride was well done. Once was enough for my kids.

Main Street Mayhem

You can’t go to Disneyland without experiencing the Main Street Parade. Our first day there was Thanksgiving, and starting on that day the parade was a Christmas theme, as was most of the park. I saw the parade twice while there, and some of our party saw it three times. The time I missed it was when Whit and I were losing glassed on Space Mountain. But during that parade Cinderella’s evil step-sisters singled Patrick out and fought over him, each claiming that he was her Prince. What can I say? He’s a little ladies’ man.
The second time we saw the parade ended on a down note. It was Saturday afternoon, and the Utes of Utah were playing a football game against their arch rivals, Brigham Young. It is the game of the year. During the day we were getting text messages from Mike in Salt Lake, and we heard that the Utes were up by 4 with 1:26 left in the game. Utah was a major underdog in this game, so we were stoked that we might win. But no, BYU pulled out a last play win to take the wind out of our sails. But that’s okay. We have to let BYU beat us every now and again, just to keep the rivalry fun.

Baby Bean

I was worried about how Lauren would handle the trip. She was too little to ride many of the rides and spent a lot of time in the stroller, as she can’t walk yet. But she didn’t seem to mind. There were plenty of new and exciting things for her to watch, and she thought that cotton candy was manna from heaven…

The BRT

In Barry Sonnenfeld’s 2006 film ‘RV’, Robin Williams’ children name their motor home “The Big Rolling Turd”. After watching that film (in Pat’s motor home) we have likewise named her RV the Big Rolling Turd, or BRT for short. Nevertheless, we rode from Salt Lake to L.A. in the BRT, all 12 of us. We didn’t leave until 11PM on Tuesday night because someone (me) had a night class, and that was the earliest we could get gone. The intention was that we would drive all night, and everyone would sleep except for the driver and a co-pilot to keep the driver alert. It was a nice plan, but it didn’t work. All of the older kids slept the night, but the babies and the adults were up the whole time. I couldn’t sleep because I was paranoid that Pat (who drove from Salt Lake to Vegas) would fall asleep.
We stopped in Vegas to have breakfast with Jordan and Nikki, Drew’s son and daughter-in-law who were to join us in L.A. later that night. In Vegas I was moved to the driver’s seat. I haven’t driven anything that big in many years, and certainly I hadn’t driven anything that big through the streets of L.A. In Salt Lake people give a wide berth to a vehicle that unwieldy. In Southern California it is a different story. By the time I got us there I offered a prayer of gratitude that I hadn’t injured anyone. We had a tow car, which prevented us from going any faster than 65 MPH. It made for a long drive, but probably a safer one.
The trip home was a bit more white-knuckle. We were all so tired by the time we left, that everyone fell right asleep except for Drew, who was driving, and me, his co-pilot. I could tell that Drew was getting drowsy as we approached Las Vegas. His driving was getting sloppy, and he nearly hit several orange barrels and jersey barricades in the construction zone. He didn’t fight when I offered to take the wheel.
After leaving Vegas everyone fell asleep again, including Drew, who was supposed to be my co-pilot. I started mainlining the caffeine and praying that I wouldn’t doze off.
After 13 hours in the BRT, we finally made it home. The Big Rolling Turd did its job.

Thanksgiving

We had Thanksgiving dinner in the park at a pizza joint. It was the most unusual Thanksgiving dinner I’d ever had. No turkey, no sweet spuds. Pepperoni and sausage. I did take a moment to give thanks for everything that I have, and not just because I was on vacation. I am married to an amazing woman who has given me four wonderful children. I have a good job with great prospects. I have a home. I am on the verge of graduating from college. I have a lot of things that I too often take for granted.
I wasn’t excited about this trip at all. When I first heard about it I was upset because I knew there was no way to get out of it. Not that I don’t like Disneyland, and certainly not because I didn’t want to spend some time with my family. Thanksgiving has always been a Shirley holiday to me. This holiday is the one time of the year that all of my extended family gets together and sees each other. I didn’t want to miss that, and I still feel that that I missed the annual Christmas tree hunt in Island Park Idaho. But I am thankful that I was able to go on this trip. Between work and school I have precious little time to spend with my wife and kids, and more often than not I am not there to see them to bed at night. I needed some uninterrupted time together with them. I also needed a time to be away from school and work and to let my hair down (metaphorically of course, as I have none). It was a good trip. A good time was had by all.