Whenever I told people I was going to work at Disneyland, the reaction was always the same. "Oh my gosh, I am so jealous!" "I wish I had known about that twenty years ago!" "Are you going to be a princess?" "Do you get free tickets?" And every time, I promised people I would start a blog, and that way I could share with the greater tristate area all my misadventures.
Leave it to me to let the first week go by without a peep. In my defense, things have been nothing short of sheer chaos. The first two days were a flurry of signing endless paperwork, carrying 50 pound boxes upstairs to my beautiful new apartment, and trying to remember to eat. My mother left Thursday, and Friday morning, our traditions class began.
Traditions was basically an overview of the history of the Disney company, from Walt's adolescence to my arrival. We learned about Disney's 4 Keys, which are safety, courtesy, show and efficiency, in that order of importance. We were shown multiple video montages, both inspirational and informational, most of them including clips of Walt himself speaking that made me tear up something awful. We took a tour of the park, the first time I had been inside its gates in over a year and a half, and during which my cheeks started to hurt from smiling so much. The whirlwind of emotion carried into the last hour of our orientation, when the trainers congratulated us on our completion of the course and started another short video. After several minutes, Walt's kind face appeared on the screen, beseeching me, "I only hope that we don't lose sight of one thing - that it was all started by a mouse."
Then the stage door opened and Mickey walked onstage.
I could tell you that I didn't bawl my eyes out like a baby. I could tell you that I don't have tears leaking slowly from my eyes as I type this. But you deserve the truth.
After Mickey handed me my official Disneyland nametag and my eyes resembled that of a surly, rabid raccoon, I received my company ID and was then able to enter the park. I went with a group of people I hardly knew but who have since become close friends of mine, despite our differences. I hang out with a beautiful yet hoodrat white girl waitress from Philly who has smoked since the age of fourteen, a sarcastic grad school music student and stand-up comedian who our waitress affectionately calls "pompous a**", a quiet Puerto Rican girl with one blue eye and one green, an effeminate first-time Disney visitor who requires constant attention and Dole Whip so as to not get lost, and a San Francisco Academy of Art graphic design student whose UTI and arthritis has confined her to a wheelchair and gained us almost immediate access to any attraction. And then there's me, the Mormon musical theatre major who hasn't a clue what she's doing with her life. Honestly, we make a good group. The only thing setting us apart from all the teenage punks you see running around Disneyland with their friends is the constant smiles on our faces. We, out of thousands of smart and talented college applicants, have been selected to participate in this program. We are working at (and visiting, every day, for free!) the happiest place on earth.
After several days of parkhopping, corn dogs and blisters, we received our work schedules at yet another orientation. When I first arrived at check-in several days earlier, I had been told I would be working in Tomorrowland, but that was the extent of my knowledge. This was the moment of truth, the moment when I "accidentally" shot myself in the foot upon learning I would be walking that cursed treadmill all day at Buzz Lightyear Astro Blasters or memorizing the entire script of Captain EO in the back of a deserted theatre. But no. This really is the most magical place on earth, where when you wish upon a star, your dreams come true. I would be working on Star Tours: The Adventures Continue.
As the girl who never went to parties in high school but would consistently sit home on weekend nights and play Stars Wars Battlefront 2 with her tween brother for at least four consecutive hours, this was right up my alley. I own two Star Wars shirts and have seen every movie countless times. I idolize George Lucas (who is from my hometown, of course!) and his brilliant movies. After a full day of parade training (I am now officially qualified as a people shepherd for large foreign tour groups, in case this whole career doesn't work out for me), I started training at Star Tours today. The secrets I learned are manifold and astounding. The imagineers really are some clever, brilliant little guys. Unfortunately, we're running out of room; no one wants to read a 16 paragraph blog post. Maybe in the future I will disclose some Disney trivia. Please excuse the messiness; I will try to post more often and when I haven't just completed a 9 hour shift and am experiencing extreme delirium.
And I know you're all still wondering, so to answer your question:
NO. I cannot get you in for free. Sorry!
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