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My Visit To Disney World
People who know me have heard this
story. I get to save some time writing it because I also used this
story as part of a "Traumatic Experiences From My
Childhood" speech for school.
When I was about four or five I
went with my family to Disney World in Orlando, Florida. I was a
huge Mickey Mouse fan, and all I really wanted to do was see
Mickey, or as I referred to him, "Mee Mow". He was
pretty hard to find.
The first Disney character that we
saw was the Big Bad Wolf - and I started screaming and crying in
terror, "Don't let him get me! NOOOOOO!"
THE BIG BAD
Today, the part of the Big Bad Wolf will
played by this guy - let's just call him Bill.
Of course, my father started
singing, "Who's afraid of the Big Bad Wolf", you know,
to freak me out. Everybody got a good laugh at that. Haha.
I think the next character we met was one of those incredibly evil
witches from Sleeping Beauty or Snow White - so I screamed some
more. I was afraid of quite a few things then - The Big Bad Wolf,
evil Disney Witches, heights, the garbage truck, the Boogy Man,
Jimmy Carter, Darth Vader.
Sure, there were a few harmless
characters wandering around. My parents were saying, "Look,
Mike! There's Pluto!", or "There's Chip, or is it
Dale?", or, "There's that... cow! From that... one
cartoon!" I didn't give a rat's ass. I was there to see the
Big Shots. Finally, my parents spotted a character who might fit
the bill - Mickey Mouse's jealous rival...
The Face of Evil.
So there was hope. I was quite
excited to see Donald, who was (as far as cartoon celebrities go)
second only to the almighty Mickey Mouse. He was within visual
range, but he was still pretty far away. It took a while to walk
to him. Once we got there, my parents let him know that they
wanted to get pictures of him with me. So, in order to be
friendly, Donald kneeled down, and went like he wanted to play-box
with me. Well… he slipped and punched me in the stomach - pretty
damned hard. He knocked the wind out of me.
"WHY, DONALD, WHY?," I
thought. "What did I do to invoke your wrath?"
As I fell to the ground, gasping
for breath, I heard my father saying, "Come on, he barely
touched you". I don't care how big and bad you think you are.
If a talking duck that is three times bigger than you even taps
you, you're gonna notice it.
Size differential between 4-year old child and
I added a Velociraptor for comparison.
I remember not being able to catch
enough breath to cry. Now, this may be my adult imagination
adding to my memories, but I could swear that I heard a deep voice
inside the suit saying, "You okay, kid?"
I don't remember what happened
after that. I must've blacked out (I'm exaggerating). I assume
that I finally saw Mickey, got some photos (and maybe one of those
mouse-ear balloons), and went on to lead a normal, unproductive,
pointless life. So everything's peachy. God, I'm so lonely.
Now, how have these events affected
me as an adult? Well, these days, whenever I see a six foot tall
duck, I run in the other direction as fast as possible, yelling,
"Leave me alone, Donald! I didn't do anything to you!"
(Sometimes I just curl up into a fetal position and scream).
Of course, I also realize that it
was an accident, and the guy probably had trouble seeing and
judging distance from inside a sweltering duck suit. As a young
boy, however, I truly believed that Donald Duck wanted to hurt me.