Pet Peeves

Disneyland Diamond Jubilee

It’s been 60 years since the big day.

My sister and I were excited to go to Disneyland. It was opening day and we stood in line holding hands to be sure we were not separated from each other. We were nearly swooped up before the day began. Another boy and girl were plucked from the line and taken to the front. Whispers circulated. Some said they were too fidgety and being bothersome. Others ventured that they were being ejected from the park because they weren’t happy enough. We didn’t know what to believe. But we didn’t take any chances. We were on a special mission. So, my sister and I stood real still and upped the wattage of our pasted on smiles.

Disneyland opened, July 18, 1955. The special boy and girl were getting their pictures taken. These pictures were snapped with a large mouse with four fingers. We held back at a comfortable distance. It wasn’t the right time to be noticed. Our long distance lens enabled us to record the mouse and jot down observations in our diaries.

We moved along to loudspeakers playing music. My sister and I didn’t have a lot of time and wanted to see all of it, so we hurried.

We made several observations that opening day and reconfirmed them over the years. People like to stand in lines. They draw comfort in knowing their place. The smallest among them weren’t as happy. We worried for them and hoped they wouldn’t be ejected for spoiling the happiest place on earth.

The lines always ended differently. One line ended with spinning teacups. The people whirled around and appeared happy with applied centrifugal force. When the teacups stopped disorientation appeared and the line dissolved. The happiness evaporated and people seemed discombobulated. They frantically looked for one another and reestablished contact and gathered belongings. When order was restored they grew happier and proceeded to locate another line to stand in.

A curious observation was the popularity of gigantic pieces of meat. We learned later that these gastronomical curiosities were called turkey drumsticks. We can only imagine the gigantic size of these birds from the part we were looking at. One drumstick could feed forty people at a time, but we never saw any sharing. It’s a biological marvel that one person could consume that much sustenance and not take a nap afterwards.

Space Mountain was our special place, our home away from home. Over 60 years now, my sister and I have tried to speak to your leader. He nods incessantly, but never says a word back. We’ve only learned his name. Mickey Mouse. We can’t hope ever to understand this place. So, we go in peace, earthlings. Don’t bother to get out of line to say goodbye. We know your place in it makes it the happiest place on earth.

Crantz goes to Disneyland often to try to find his car, a 1955 Chevy.