The Scariest Place On Earth

This was written for an anthology of family stories being compiled by my mom. This entry focuses on family vacation memories.

We took my first trip to Disneyland, the so-called “happiest place on earth,” when I was 3. I can recall a few things about this trip, the first being that I found Pirates of the Caribbean to be truly terrifying. The exaggerated images of this hair-raising childhood death ride have been forever ingrained into my consciousness. I remember my apprehension as we slowly began floating into the unknown, then the sheer horror as our boat began plummeting into the misty depths. After the second such drop, we leveled off and emerged from the darkness only to be greeted by guns and canons blazing all around. My recollection of this harrowing experience ends there as I probably spent the rest of the ride crying and covering my eyes with my souvenir Donald Duck hat.

Later in the day, we took a break from all of this “fun” for an occurrence that probably only happened a handful of times in our impoverished childhood--our parents bought us overpriced amusement park treats. While everyone else got frozen chocolate-covered bananas, my discerning eye caught hold of the icy symmetry of a frozen orange juice bar. Before handing it off to me, Mom asked for a taste. Instead of the relatively harmless lick that I was expecting, she took a full bite, destroying the beautiful curves that I found so appealing. I screamed with disapproval as my treat was now unsuitable for consumption. In retrospect, I may have overreacted. But in my defense, it is possible this incident somehow triggered ’Nam-like flashbacks of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Our next family trip to the Magic Kingdom came when I was 9. While I may have been a little older, I was no less of a scaredy-cat. We went to see Captain Eo, but I couldn’t bring myself to keep my 3D glasses on. Who can blame me though for not wanting to see Michael Jackson in all his 3-dimensional glory?

By the afternoon, we reached Space Mountain. Not having much experience with rollercoasters, I was a little nervous. Rob didn’t help my apprehension by pointing to the ride descriptions and taunting, “Look Davy, high turbulence!” The line gradually progressed from outside to the inside. It was now much darker, and I could hear the screams of the riders echoing through the galaxy. I finally lost it and refused to go on the ride. Mom took me out and waited with me while everyone else went.

My siblings, surely weary of my ongoing cowardice, conspired to get me on Thunder Mountain Railroad. There were no mentions of turbulence this time. All queries about what manner of ride this was were met with only the vaguest responses. All I knew is that it somehow involved a train. I didn’t realize the ride was in fact a roller coaster until the lap bars came down and the recording instructed “hold on to your hats and glasses, ‘cause this here’s the wildest ride in the wilderness!” By then it was too late to escape.

I braced for the worst, but as we began to twist and turn, it struck me: Hey, this is actually fun! At the end of the ride, an adult passenger in front of me echoed my sentiments by enthusiastically cheering, “Give the ride a cigar!” Well, maybe not my exact sentiments. But at long last, Disneyland was fun, not scary.

Now that we are expecting, my thoughts can’t help but turn to the future, and to our children’s first trip to Disneyland. Hopefully it will be less traumatic for them than it will be for me. After all, the ridiculously expensive tickets, shoddy souvenirs, and overpriced food will be coming out of my pocket now. Talk about terrifying.