Around the time of my high school graduation, my mom began asking me how I wanted to celebrate my escape from the pubic education system. After considering all of the cliché destinations like Paris or New York, I settled on a more practical and magical one. A light bulb with mouse ears appeared over my head and with all the enthusiasm of a 4-year-old, I ecstatically proclaimed "Let's go to Disney World!"
My relationship with this fantastical man-made landscape began when I was in middle school. My mom had been sent on a work conference to Orlando and, being the amazingly fun woman she is, decided to turn it into a family trip to Disney. I remember thinking I was far too old and mature to enjoy a theme park, and that it would be beneath me to ride cartoon themed roller-coasters or tea cups that only spin in a low-speed circular motion. I was extremely mistaken.
As an American who also happens to be a millennial, I appreciate authenticity and will reject any brands overly transparent attempt to manipulate me into buying or experiencing something. However, at Disney's park, I found myself a willing participant to the deception. The park is meticulously planned out so that guests can truly feel as if they have left their mundane realities and entered a magical landscape. I'd like to note that Walt Disney World is located in the interior of Florida so it goes without saying that this is no small feat.
Upon entering what could be considered Disney's flagship park, aptly named The Magic Kingdom, my family and I were greeted with a park opening ceremony in which some of Disney's most iconic characters ride into the park on a train and then perform a whimsical musical number to welcome the parks guests. You'd think this display of furry characters and mass transit would not hold much interest for anyone over the age of 6, and you'd be wrong, just like I was. I found myself enchanted by this over-the-top welcoming ritual and genuinely eager to enter the park. All of my "cool kid" reservations about attending a theme park had been swept away like the trademarked Disney characters now being transported away from the park entrance on the train they had entered on.
As I scanned my ticket and quickly shuffled into the congested mob of people entering the Magic Kingdom, all of my senses were assaulted by the heightened the reality which existed within the park and could have only been created by spending obscene amounts of money on the most minute of details. The air smelled of baked goods and coffee, every building looked as if had been freshly painted that morning, and the temperature seemed to have somehow dropped from the scorching Florida heat to a cool 70 degrees just as I entered the park. But I knew that none of this was real, and I didn’t care. Even at 18 years old, I have found myself enchanted by the sheer amount of effort that goes into making Disney feel like an actual place and not just another receptacle for cheap roller-coaster thrills and overpriced funnel cakes.
For those who aren't familiar with Disney's layout, the park is separated into six themed lands. The parks entrance lies in the first land and is called Main street, USA. Main Street's aesthetic was designed to replicate all the charm of 20th century small town America with none of the racial tension. The next land is Tomorrowland, which, as you probably guessed, is themed to look like how Walt Disney imagined the future would be (a lot of chrome). Then we have Fantasyland, which contains all the fairytale rides and characters that Disney is famous for. This land recently completed a renovation to make it an even more magical place for children to beg their parents to buy them overpriced souvenirs. Fantasyland then gives way to Liberty Square, a quaint colonial America style town square. Frontierland resides on the other side of Liberty Square and is themed to look like the lawless American frontier (minus the genocide). Rides like Splash mountain and the Country Bear Jamboree harken back to the passions and freedom of the wild west. And lastly, we have Adventureland, which is a conglomeration of foreign landscapes and cultures meant to convey a sense of travel.
But what all of these lands have in common is that they are all the product of a large-scale production being put on everyday by thousands of cast members. It is a feat of innovation that this park runs as smoothly and consistently as it does. I think it is now safe to ignore the proliferation of millennial think pieces which claim we are insatiable snake people feeding off of only the most authentic of experiences. Yes, authenticity is nice, but what we really want is quality.
Disney has also been able to maintain a sense of vague believability to even the most skeptical of park goers thanks in part to how dedicated its employees are and how truly imaginative the engineers have been. The more effort we recognize, the more valuable a thing becomes and in our fast world, where time constraints don’t allow much effort to be given, quality makes all the difference.
