Day one of Disney is officially complete, and it was fantastic. We started our adventure at Animal Kingdom, where Jettie rode her first roller coaster, Dada discovered that his inner ear apparently did not receive the memo that we were here to make magical memories, and we walked somewhere north of 25,000 steps and 12 miles before my phone finally gave up and died. Our very first stop was meeting Mickey and Minnie, which immediately established that we were, in fact, at Disney World. Watching Jettie walk into this strange universe where characters she knows suddenly exist as physical beings is one of those experiences that is difficult to describe from the adult side of things. You know what is happening. You understand the machinery behind the magic. But then you watch your kid experience it, and for a few minutes none of that matters. Mickey is standing right there. Of course this is magical.
Eleven hours later, we finally made it back to the hotel. My feet were finished. My phone was dead. My vestibular system had filed a formal complaint. Surely, I thought, we had reached the natural conclusion of the day. Jettie had another idea: pool time. Because apparently children have access to some renewable energy source that adults lose somewhere around the age when lower back pain becomes a legitimate conversational topic. So she went to the pool. Yesterday I wrote about wanting the committee in my head to remind me to stay a little longer, do the extra activity, and soak in these moments while they are happening. Apparently Jettie has appointed herself chairwoman of that committee and takes the position very seriously.
Somewhere during those 25,000 steps, however, another thought began forming in my head: Disney World is basically a giant video game. You start by purchasing a AAA title with fantastic reviews. It costs a decent amount of money, but everyone tells you it is worth it. You finally load the game, and they’re right. The graphics are incredible. The world building is ridiculous. There are different maps with completely different environments, characters wandering around everywhere, quests to complete, collectibles to find, and an enormous number of things to explore. You start playing and think, This is everything I hoped it would be. Then, slowly, you begin noticing something else familiar from modern gaming: there are microtransactions everywhere.
Need some gear so your character fits in with everyone else? Microtransaction. Hungry and need food, water, or the occasional potion? Microtransaction. Want a collectible from the region you just explored? Microtransaction. Don’t feel like grinding line XP for an hour before unlocking the next ride? Good news! There is a microtransaction for that too. I’m honestly a little surprised the bathrooms haven’t been monetized yet, although I probably shouldn’t type that too loudly because somewhere a Disney executive may suddenly look up from their desk and whisper, “Wait a minute.”
I say all of this with love because the game is fantastic, and unlike some video games, nobody hid the microtransactions from us. Every review of Disney basically tells you exactly what you’re getting into. We knew the deal when we installed the game. So while I spend a surprising amount of my normal life trying to convince Jettie that she does not need to buy another power-up in Roblox, for the next few days we are accepting modernity and embracing the absurdity. We are buying the power-ups. We have ride skips galore today, and I have absolutely no moral high ground left from which to lecture anyone about digital purchases.
Today the map changes and we head to Magic Kingdom, beginning with a Princess Breakfast. I think I may be almost as excited to watch Jettie meet the princesses as she is to meet them. That has already become one of my favorite parts of this entire experience. Disney is fun as an adult, but watching your child encounter it creates another layer of the experience entirely. I find myself watching her as much as I’m watching whatever we’re supposed to be looking at. Her reaction becomes part of my reaction. Her wonder becomes part of mine. Maybe that’s one of the strange gifts of parenting: you occasionally get access to childhood again, not by becoming a child yourself, but by standing close enough to one that some of the magic spills over.
So the committee and I are heading back into the game today. We have ride skips loaded, I’m doubling up on the Dramamine, and we’re going to spend another day collecting experiences, ridiculous photographs, tired feet, and whatever memories happen while we’re busy doing everything else. Yesterday was a reminder to allow the moments to happen instead of trying to control them. Today, I think, is about leaning all the way into them. If we’re going to play the game, we might as well play the game.
Which means I have one important side quest remaining.
I need to find Sorcerer Mickey ears.
I have spent my entire life decking out my characters in video games, and there is absolutely no reason my Disney avatar should be running around with default gear.