The Ride Delegate: Memoir of a Walt Disney World VIP Tour Guide (20 page)

I explained as best I could to the coordinator what was happening between me and the guests. I told her some of the things they had said to me, and about other guests in the vicinity of other guests. I told her there was a good chance Mom might be drunk. The coordinator listened to my laundry list of reasons as to why the tour was a grade A recipe for disaster. Much to my surprise, this coordinator completely sided with me.

“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see if I can get you off of the tour for the next few days. I’ll call you back in a bit,” she said, and we hung up.

I ate another cup of corn dog nuggets.

Fifteen minutes later the coordinator called back with good news. She had managed to get their usual guide on the phone, and that guide, a woman by the name of Patricia, had agreed to forfeit her tour for tomorrow in order to take this family, the Pink family. I’d take Patricia’s tour.

“Should I tell them I won’t be with them tomorrow?”

“No, just drop them off at the end of the night, and Patricia will tell them you’re sick or something.”

The Pink family finished dinner and decided they were done for the day, even though they had only spent three hours in Magic Kingdom, and one of them was spent eating. I drove them back to the hotel. I said goodbye. I said goodbye forever.

The next morning I arrived to the Office at the same time as Patricia, who apologized again and again for subjecting me to the Pinks. “They’re usually not like that. Or maybe I’ve just learned to tune them out!” She laughed as we collected our vehicle keys and Blackberries.

“Thank you so much, really.” I said, giving Patricia a hug. It was customary for tour guides to hug all of the time. Patricia went off to her car, I went off to mine, and I drove to the hotel to meet my new guests.

My new tour family, the Purples, were nice and a little bit quieter. Mom, Dad, a boy and a girl, and then Grandma and Grandpa, the usual. I was told they had lunch at Crystal Palace so we headed off to Magic Kingdom for the day. I parked the vehicle in Park One, and the six of us went into the park. Our first stop, Fantasyland. We were off to ride “small world”.

We got all the way to the front of the “small world” and I told the Cast Member there that there would be seven people riding. I like “small world”. I also hadn’t checked my email yet, so the boat ride would be the perfect time to do so. We loaded into rows and waited for our boat to dock.

“Hot damn, it’s the Purple family!” I heard off in the distance. “Honey, you remember Joe, we were college roommates!”

“Hi, Joe!” a woman’s voice called back. The Purples turned to wave to the family they knew halfway up the queue. “Look, they have a guide, too!”

I turned around to politely wave, ha ha, it’s so funny everyone has a tour guide these days! I raised my hand up into the air but I never got the chance to wave. I looked at the family halfway up the line, quickly making their way towards us.

Out of all the attractions in all of Disney World, the Pink family had to wander back into this one. The one attraction out of all of the parks that tries to show togetherness, and friendship, with a proverb so deep it could end wars if it wanted to. The one attraction that is the literal embodiment of what a “small world” it is we’re all living in. It was a world of laughter, and right now it was a world of fears.

Patricia stood with the Pink family in the queue. She looked sick. She looked like she might throw herself into the moat. I contemplated throwing myself into the moat. The Pink family stared at me like they had seen a ghost. I stared back like I couldn’t believe this was happening to me, and in of all places, “small world”.

“I want to ride with the Pinks!” One of the Purple kids shouted.

“Yeah, Annie, let’s wait for the Purples!” Dad said to me, moving out of his loading row. He took a step back against the metal rail.

I literally couldn’t form words. The Cast Member loading the boats saw my guest move out, and yelled at us to move back in. I wanted to tell my guests we had to get onto the oncoming boat. We had to avoid the Pink family at all cost. But there was no way I could communicate that to them. Besides, the boats were slow moving. There was a 90% chance that no matter where we went around the park I was going to end up in the same show scene as the Pinks. I couldn’t escape. This is probably what Mufasa felt like when the wildebeests started stampeding.

I tried to blend into the “small world” wall as best I could, but it was white and sparkly and everyone could see me in my red vest. The Pinks made their way down the ramp. When they reached the load Cast Member, Mr. Pink yelled, “Fourteen!”

“No, you guys ride without us! Enjoy!” Patricia said, as she reached forward and grabbed my arm, breaking me from my momentary paralysis. She didn’t give them time to object, as she dragged me up the stairs behind the “small world” tower and into the sunlight of Fantasyland. I in turn pulled her into the Peter Pan break hallway across the way.

“HOW. WHY. WHAT.” I stammered, slumping down into one of the plastic chairs there.

“I’m so sorry! I had no idea we were going to end up at the same place!” Patricia cried, slumping down next to me.

“Not that.
They know each other
.” I took half a dozen deep breaths. I wondered if this is what a panic attack felt like.

“No one could have predicted that.” I buried my head into my hands as Patricia rubbed my back. “I’ll talk them into leaving the park once they’re off. You can have Magic Kingdom today.”

I chugged lemonade (it was too early for diet Coke) and Patricia and I returned to the “small world” exit to wait for the Pinks and the Purples. They emerged, laughing and giggling and reminiscing about old times, and the kids held hands as they ascended the ramp.

“Anyway we could change our lunch reservation?” Mr. Purple asked me.

“Uhhhhh…” I stuttered.

“But we have lunch at Hollywood and Vine,” Patricia chimed in, as perky as ever, trying not to let onto the fact that the walls were caving in around me.

“We can change that,” Mr. Pink said. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, Annie!”

I nodded.

“How weird is that. Yesterday you were with them, and now you’re with us! And look at us, all here together!”

In the remake of the Disney classic
The Parent Trap
, when Dennis Quaid is reunited with his estranged ex-wife she comments that it’s a “small world”, and he replies, “and getting smaller”. That’s how I felt.

“It was so nice of Patricia to step in for me,” I said, my words staccato as I forced them out. “I didn’t feel great last night.”

“I’m so happy you recovered so quickly.” Mr. Pink raised an eyebrow at me. “I would have hated for these guys to miss out on a great tour!” Mr. Pink slapped Mr. Purple on the back, like old college frat boys. I needed to separate the two of them, before either one of them thought too much into how I had gone from one tour to the other.

“Well, we should probably get moving before the parade cuts us off,” I said to the group. It was 10:15am.

Mr. Purple asked me a little while later if there was any way I could make dinner reservations for the two families somewhere in the park, and I nodded like I understood and then consciously forgot about the dining request. There was no way I was subjecting myself to a situation like that again. Patricia sent me a message informing me that they were leaving the park to head to Studios. I continued on with my day as if nothing strange had happened.

I somehow got roped into eating lunch with them at Crystal Palace. I never ate at Crystal Palace while on tour, if only because Casey’s was so close and I could spell the corn dog nuggets from afar. But today I was so shaken and rattled, I thought about the air conditioning for forty-five minutes and the fact that their buffet included soft-serve ice cream. I went inside with my guests and sat with the kids while the parents went off to get their meals.

“I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” Mrs. Purple said once she returned to the table. Surprisingly, none of them picked up on the flawed logic of me being “sick”. If I were in fact sick, I would have called in for the Pink’s tour, and the Office would scramble for a guide. Patricia wouldn’t have been taken off of the tour and put on another just because I was “sick”. Because then the Purples would have been without a guide, and once again, scrambling. Also, if I were really sick the Office would still probably make me come in and do the tour even if I had to do it
Weekend at Bernie’s
style. It sometimes happened.

I saw the Pinks one more time during their five-day stay at the parks. Patricia was rushing off to parade viewing, and I was strolling along with a new family in tow. She waved to me, but not grand enough to draw attention from others. I waved back, and then ducked behind a trashcan and pretended to throw away imaginary trash, thus causing me to lean down and disappear out of the Pink’s sight. They moved into the crowd and I never saw them again.

If I had known my four-day tour would culminate with me sitting in the Orlando MCO airport food court in full costume, name tag and everything, eating a sad Chick-fil-A sandwich and chugging a diet Coke like I had been parched for days, I probably would have called in sick. I just wouldn’t have gotten out of bed.

There was nothing out of the ordinary or strange about the tour. I had been assigned to host a television actor for a few days while he visited the resort area and did a few public appearances and talked to some underprivileged kids, and with the itinerary I had it seemed like it was going to be a very easy four-day tour. William arrived with his wife, Catherine, and both were in their early 60s and didn’t really feel the need to trudge through the hot parks just to see the nighttime parade. Catherine just wanted to wander around EPCOT and poke into shops. William would go off to his event early in the morning, and then Catherine and I would wander around EPCOT for a bit, pick William up, the two of them would have a late lunch, then retire early to the hotel.

I found myself bored more than anything else. The two of them wanted to go out to dinner each night, and not an early dinner to accompany their late lunch, but a late dinner usually right around seven or eight. I’d drop William and Catherine off at the hotel around 4pm, and then I’d sit in my car for three hours, with the windows rolled down and the radio all the way up and watch Netflix on my phone.

Don’t worry, I didn’t do this in the Grand Floridian parking lot. I pulled into the cast parking lot, located across the street, and pulled into an out-of-the-way obstructed parking space so security wouldn’t wonder why the tour guide was just shooting the breeze in the middle of the day. Gasparilla’s became my haven, and I’d head in there, get myself a flatbread pizza, a diet Coke, a Vitamin Water, a bottle of regular water, and at least two different desserts. Then I’d drive my car across the street, park it, and watch
Parks and Recreation
on my phone for three hours. The car had a USB port, so it wasn’t like I was killing my battery. I had tried hiding in the Grand Floridian convention enter, but I managed to disrupt one rehearsal dinner and one electronics conference, so sitting in my car seemed to be the easiest thing to do.

I passed three days like this. I watched the entire third season of
Parks and Rec
.

On day four, I arrived at the Grand Floridian nice and early to get William for his last appearance in EPCOT. Catherine was going to stay behind at the hotel to finish packing, so I’d drop William off, double back, get Catherine, and then the two of them would have one last lunch in EPCOT before I drove them to the airport. I checked the status of their flight at 8am before I departed for the hotel. The flight was still on time.

William did his last appearance, Catherine loaded suitcases into my car, and then they had lunch in France while I sat backstage and ate a vanilla ice cream crepe. I collected them from lunch, and the three of us drove to MCO. I pulled into the departure zone, helped them unload suitcases, and Catherine hugged me goodbye. William shook my hand and the two of them disappeared inside.

With the two of them gone, I changed the radio station from the classical music William had requested to the alt-rock Sirius station I enjoyed. I sent a text to my best friend before I pulled away, telling her I was leaving the airport now so we could totally get dinner in two hours if she wanted to.

There was a tap on my passenger window. Catherine stood there, suitcase in hand. “Our flight’s been canceled,” she yelled at me through the glass.

“What?” I stammered as I rolled down the window. “When I checked in this morning it was on time.”

“It’s been canceled,” she said again. I shoved my phone back into my vest pocket and got out of the car.

“Stay with the car for a second,” I told Catherine, as I marched to the curbside counter. The guy standing behind the desk saw me coming.

“The flight was canceled. Technical problems,” he told me in a hushed tone, so as to not let other passengers hear.

I groaned out loud. “Can you get them on another flight?”

“It was the last flight back to LA today.”

“So…now what?”

The guy shrugged. “You can check with customer service.” A sentence that will always frustrate me, because
I was
customer service.

“What’s wrong?” Catherine called from the car.

“Is William inside?” I asked her. She pointed through the glass to William, sitting in one of the oddly shaped off-green wicker chairs that MCO had to offer. “I’m going to go park the car in the lot, and I’ll be right back for you guys, okay?” Catherine nodded and I jumped behind the wheel of my car.

I pulled into a spot in terminal parking and pulled out my Blackberry. I called the Office.

“The flight’s canceled? Why didn’t you check the status of the flight before you left for the airport?” the coordinator on the other end of the phone asked me.

“I checked the flight this morning. Everything was fine. I didn’t bother checking before I left EPCOT,” I told her. “What should I do?”

The coordinator didn’t have a good answer for me. She suggested that maybe I try waiting around the airport to see if the flight became un-canceled, like that was a viable option. She suggested I try re-booking them on another flight.