Why You Should Visit Disney World

I went to Disney World when I was in 3^rd grade. All I can remember from the voyage is that I enjoyed every second of it. I rode the rides, I ate exotic food at Epcot, I met several cartoon characters, I convinced my parents to buy me pointless merchandise…I did everything a kid could do at Disney World. Ever since I hit the ripe old age of 20, I’ve wanted to go back. I wanted to find my youth again. My teenage years weren’t very forgiving, and I wasn’t looking forward to the next decade of my life. I’ll spare you the details, but I’ve been struggling with depression for years. I was genuinely happy as a child, but I’ve never been able to recapture that elusive contentment. Last year, I had the opportunity to visit Disney World in

Orlando, Florida. I knew that such a trip wouldn’t solve any of my problems, but I needed to find a clarion streak of innocence to recharge my batteries.

I talked about this in another article of mine, but if you haven’t read all of my work (how dare you!), I’ll mention it again. I’m severely physically handicapped. I was born with arthrogryposis, a non-progressive form of muscular dystrophy. What that means is that I’m confined to a wheelchair. I can’t do anything for myself, unless you count breathing. Trips are difficult for me. We have to take a portable lift and plenty of painkillers with us. My joints get stiff very easily, and going from my wheelchair to a handicap inaccessible hotel bed is usually a rigorous process. So that’s a con right there. It has despoiled every trip I’ve ever been on, and even if I have some semblance of fun, I end up wishing that we had never left the house to start with.

In addition to my biological impediments, I have domestic issues to deal with. My parents argue constantly. They’ve been on the verge of splitting up ever since they started dating 23 years ago. I had a hunch that they would bicker ad infinitum at Disney World, and sure enough, they did. My father is one of those condescending (insert expletive of choice) who know everything about everything. I can say that because he’ll more than likely never read this. In any event, his contentious patronage put a damper on the proceedings. It’s hard to take in your surroundings when you can’t share your enthusiasm with someone you would consider to be a friend. I spent the majority of our stay being stoic, as it’s challenging to show emotion in front of Dad.

Obviously, there are squillions of rides and attractions at Disney. When I was little, I could partake in just about all of them. At the onset of adolescence, I had two major surgeries that would later make it impossible for me to get out of my wheelchair and into a rollercoaster seat or the seat of any theme park ride, for that matter. At age 21, my participation at Disney was considerably limited. I could look at things and imagine what certain rides must be like. Bummer. Thank God for Epcot and Sea World. At Epcot, I loved traveling from one “country” to the next and eating a grand meal in “.” At Sea World (yes, I know that it’s not part of Disney, but they go hand-in-hand, don’t they?), I loved dining underwater and spending quality time with various maritime creatures.

Most of the fast-paced action rides were out of the question. This left us standing in the boiling heat more than we wanted to. The humidity was so bad, that the moisture in the air actually caused my wheelchair to malfunction on more than occasion. Speaking of mishaps, I injured my left leg while hanging from our portable lift at the hotel. A week later, an x-ray informed us that I had a hairline fracture. I couldn’t move my maimed appendage one centimeter in the wrong direction without squawking a series of somewhat blasphemous words. Luckily, it didn’t hurt if I was sitting still, so I wasn’t distracted by the pain while flirting with Minnie Mouse and watching a 3D Terminator spectacle.

It sounds like a miserable vacation, huh? Why would I recommend hopping down to Disney World after the disheartening experience that I had? For starters, I reached my goal. Despite all of the nonsense I had to put up with, I was able to rediscover my youth. This sentence might make you roll your eyes, but there really is magic in the air at Disney World. Something about the artless, fairy tale-like atmosphere and the droves of giggling youngsters warmed the creaky cockles of my heart. I look back on the excursion from a nostalgic point of view. I’m already itching to make another trek. When we can afford it (in 75 years), I’ll be petitioning to take another jaunt to

Orlando
in the hopes of lifting my spirits, if only for a fleeting weekend.