Amber Earns Her Ears: My Secret Walt Disney World Cast Member Diary (20 page)

On Tuesday I worked my first ever shift at the Green Thumb, the gift shop outside Soarin'. It was raining when I arrived, which was wonderful, because that meant I had a steady line for well over two hours of people wanting to purchase ponchos and umbrellas, or candy to munch on while they hid from the precipitation outside. One of the largest complaints of people who work the Green Thumb is that it is so dull, especially as there’s no one to chat with when the line disappears. I didn’t run into this problem until well into the evening, as I was working the EMH (Extra Magic Hour) shift from 4:30 p.m. to 1:30 a.m. There’s not a lot to straighten at the Green Thumb, which is what I usually waste my time doing, but I was never too mind-numbingly bored. It’s not a shift that I’d want to do constantly, but once in a while wouldn’t be a nuisance.

Thursday I hit Magic Kingdom again with Cassandra and one of her friends, Nancy. We went immediately for food when we arrived, and sadly chose the Tortuga Tavern in Adventureland. I vaguely remembered eating there once before, and my family vowing never to return, but I couldn’t remember why that was, so I thought we may as well give it a go as Cassandra was craving Mexican food. As we sat at our table with the rain falling outside, staring at our half-eaten soggy burritos, Cassandra pointed out that the unappealing sodden mess in front of us had cost an hour and a half of wages. None of us were entirely thrilled with that insight.

We ventured to the Tiki Room next, as it is no longer under “new management”. Afterward, we meandered around the park for a bit, until finally Cassandra and I left Nancy to hit up Ghirardelli in Downtown Disney for a shake. By the time we arrived it was late afternoon, the air had cooled, and the sun was setting. We sat at a table outside and people watched for probably an hour, commenting on the poor woman who walked by wearing a jean vest from the 1990s, and discussing work. When my milkshake infusion was only frothy chocolate at the bottom, and the cookie had disappeared from under Cassandra’s cookie sundae, we wandered up to the West Side to visit the street performer (who was particularly attached to Cassandra, refusing to let go of her hand until she replaced it with a little girl’s) before catching the bus back to the Commons for my first round of grocery bingo.

Paige, my roommate from last year, had often participated in grocery bingo, but as it was always at night, I was usually working and could never go with her. Which, I’m thinking, wasn’t an entirely bad thing. The area in the Commons in front of the bingo room was packed when we arrived, and only got worse as time passed. Cassandra, who was able to peer around the corner into the room, reported that it was full of disco lights and Cast Members filming the crowd outside for Housing the Magic, the College Program television channel. Eventually, we were allowed in a few at a time; it was so packed that they had people waiting outside for an hour before seats became available.

We were given our bingo cards, found a seat, and waited as they filtered in the rest of the crowd. Then it began. It was a very loud, excitable game of bingo, and as I was already tired from our day at the park, I was less than enthused by the wave of people who would cheer as they matched the number called with one on their board. We played different versions of bingo (and here I was, thinking there was only the one), at which I was always a failure. That turned out to be a good thing, because as the night progressed and multiple people yelled bingo! at the same time, they had to perform in a dance-off in front of the room to determine who would get the most groceries. Some people really got into it, while others stood there abjectly, waving their arms about. There was such a demand to get in that as soon as you got a bingo you were asked to leave so one of the unfortunate people who had arrived later could come in and have a go.

Cassandra and I stayed for a little under two hours, and left before everyone else so we wouldn’t get stuck inside the room as the masses of people all tried to vacate the building at once. The walk back to Chatham was particularly entertaining for her, as I was exhausted to the point of not shutting up. We managed to fit quite a bit of discussion into the short walk, which was to be continued the next day at work.

That next day at work started at 8:30 in the morning. I had a double shift on Friday; 8:30-2:30 at Image, then 3:00-9:30 at package pickup. I had picked up the shift at Image, as it had been a while since I worked there and I was starting to miss the place. The day, as long as it was, passed rather quickly, though as soon as I clocked out for the night, I was pretty much dead to the world. I drove home on autopilot, not even quite sure how I made it back. Luckily, the next day didn’t start until two, and it was, again, package pickup, meaning I wouldn’t have to do anything strenuous.

And that’s been my week! Nothing too terribly exciting is on the horizon, other than a trip to the barber shop below Magic Kingdom to restore my hair to its lovely red hue that has faded since I arrived. For now, I’ll just enjoy my lovely days off and try not to think about how little time is left for me down here.

I’VE SAID SINCE THE beginning of this program that it felt different from my program last year.

Not only does that feeling still apply, it’s intensified.

Whereas last year I wasn’t ready to leave until I had about a month remaining, this time I have about 16 weeks left, and I am dying to depart Florida.

Some people I would miss. Some I would miss a lot. The majority would not keep me here for a single extra day.

I’m not sure what makes this program so different. Maybe it’s the lack of family atmosphere that was so prevalent theme at the Electric Umbrella. Maybe it’s that, rather than spend my nights after work on the couch chatting with roommates or playing
Lego Harry Potter
with Paige, I hide in my room because the noise level in our living room surpasses obnoxious more often than I can handle. Maybe it’s the knowledge that if I were at home, I would be in school and getting the rest of my general education courses out of the way. Maybe it’s that autumn is my favorite season, and while everyone back home is enjoying the drop in temperature and the impending coloration of the leaves, I’m still stuck in shorts and tank tops when I venture outside for more than a few moments.

Whatever the reasons (because I’m sure I’ve missed a few), I’m here until January, and as much as I want to go home, no purpose would be served in leaving.

September is a very slow month for Disney World. Park attendance has dropped dramatically, and that means less and less work for me to do. I can only thank the unknown scheduler who signed me up for package pickup, because while I cannot stand to be bored onstage in front of guests, I’m perfectly fine propping my feet up on a desk and reading the hours away in between driving to pick up packages. I’ve been given only one shift a week outside of package pickup; I make my way to the West to stock once a week. Food and Wine starts soon, though, so that should cause an increase of people in the parks.

Speaking of driving, the inevitable has happened. One of our vans, 64, was in the shop while they did something to its tire, and we had a loaner van with no rearview mirror to use in its absence. I took out the loaner for my usual run. Backstage at EPCOT has many alleys that we have to pull into and back out of, and so the lack of a rearview mirror was inconvenient. It didn’t really hinder me on the run, though, until I made it to Japan, my last stop. To get out of Japan, I usually back into an area between two freezers and turn around that way. I knew there were poles behind me that I couldn’t see in my side mirrors, so I rolled down the window and stuck my head out. About that time, with a dull thud, I backed the van into a pole, knocking my head into the side of the window. I pulled forward and got out, walking to the rear of the van in a state of disbelief.

At first I didn’t see anything, which made me elated, but then I saw a dent about five inches across in the metal of the bumper. I drove back to base with no small amount of trepidation. After unloading all of my packages, I made my way over to the manager’s office to let them know. I was given a paper to fill out with details of the incident. The next day there was another round of paperwork to fill out because it was a loaner van. I had expected some kind of safety reprimand or something, but the manager in charge of package pickup told me that he preferred to fill out the paperwork and leave it at that. The manager that I had originally informed, though, had mentioned it in the closing report, so everyone who had anything to do with our area was aware of it now. If a higher-up came asking questions about discipline, then I would find myself in a little trouble, but otherwise I should be fine.

Automobiles just don’t seem to agree with me lately. The other day, as I drove to work, my oil light came on. Dinosaur started to drive a little funny when I made it to the cast parking lot, and I called Dad as I made my way through Cast Services. I had a quart of oil in the trunk, and he informed me that should be enough to get me to Walmart to buy some more. There I put another two quarts in the car, but the oil light was on again before I’d even reached Chatham — not even a five minute drive. I told Dad I would call him the next morning after I checked the oil level. When I went out, though, it was to find the barest amount of oil on the dipstick, and a large pool of it underneath my car.

Needless to say, I will be taking the bus for the next few days.

Not much else of note has happened. I visited the barber shop in the Utilidor, which caused me no small amount of panic when I realized the woman who would be dying my hair was your stereotypical fake-tanned, fried black hair, gum-smacking hair stylist, who instead of using the formula my hairdresser at home sent me, brought out a color board and tried to convince me that the blonde would really come out red. Despite the trepidation that I felt beforehand, it didn’t turn out horribly — although let’s just say that’s another reason I’m looking forward to going home.

Other than that, I’ve read some books, done a little shopping, and watched a lot of
Friends
. I’ve been scouring the Hub for extra shifts to supplement my 33-hour weeks, and have only managed to pick up one of them, so far.

ONE OF THE MAJOR perks of the College Program is convenience. Disney provides housing so you don’t have to. They provide cable and water and electricity — internet, too, if you bring a router. And buses to take you to and from work, the post office, and the grocery store.

I had brought my car with me, so I used the buses as transport to and from work, but not for much else. With Dinosaur down, I’ve had to rely on Disney’s American Coach buses to get me everywhere I needed to go.

They’ve changed the set up for the bus stop at EPCOT. One of the major complaints about this particular stop is that it’s the site of incredible potential injury as everyone jostles and shoves to make it onto the bus — preferably ahead of enough people to actually snatch a seat. As I’m good at weaving in and out of people, this setup didn’t really bother me; if you could judge where the bus was going to stop, and you could squeeze your way into the mass of people from all over the world, you were in. Now they’ve set up a queue, which works well. My only complaint is that if you want to sit and wait for the bus, you might lose out on a seat, and that when people in line decide to smoke — a big pet peeve of mine — you can’t move anywhere to escape the fumes. But there’s less stress involved, less shoving, and less invasion of personal space.

And of course, there’s always the enjoyment of watching people dash for the bus as soon as it emerges from the revolving gates, regardless of whether there’s a line or not.

I’d never had to take the bus to the store, but I’d imagined the inconvenience. I tend to buy a lot of food; not too much that I can’t carry it up the stairs from my car all in one go, but a good amount. When I boarded the H bus last week to catch a ride to Publix to pick up some groceries, I had already decided to finally utilize my crock pot and make a meal that would last all week so I wouldn’t have to return to the store for a while.

Let me tell you, for a wimpy kid like me, carrying a bag of potatoes, cartons of juice and milk, and all my other groceries was not easy. I managed to knock into quite a few people as I lugged my three bags through the narrow aisles of the bus. It was an interesting journey. But the ride to Publix wasn’t long, and by the time I’d finished shopping, the next bus was almost there to pick us up. The Publix stop, unlike Walmart, where there are a few benches set up along the side of the building, isn’t really organized as a stop; it lets you out near a sidewalk, and then you return to that sidewalk and wait for another bus to arrive.

Taking the bus early is a good idea; the last bus comes around seven for final pickups. Some times are more crowded than others; the bus I rode to Publix had a grand total of five people on it, whereas the bus I took back was nearly full.

I miss my car. I don’t mind riding the bus to and from work, though I do like the convenience of saving an hour of my day to laze around rather than boarding the bus and waiting as it makes a few more stops on its way to EPCOT, especially when I have the misfortune to catch a driver’s change or break. Then you spend about thirty minutes waiting at Vista Way while the driver disappears and someone else comes to check everything on the bus. It’s a good time to catch up on podcasts.

Grocery shopping? Not so much fun without a car, but not unmanageable, as most people here do it. I’ve seen various ways to avoid carrying too much; some people take rolling suitcases that they load up, others bring massive backpacks (although that relies on your ability to pick it up in the first place).

But I like the feeling that if someone is going somewhere — Steak ‘n Shake, Universal, the beach — then I can get there with them, no problem.

In two weeks, my parents will be down with a different car from home, and a trailer to take Dinosaur back to Tennessee to fix it for when I return for school. Maybe I’ll continue to ride the bus to work, simply to save gas money, but I will be extremely glad to have my own wheels again.