Would You Like Magic with That?: Working at Walt Disney World Guest Relations (7 page)

Frontierland was nice, too. Liberty Square was roped in with that land as well, and you could spend all day walking back and forth between the two lands, darting from air conditioning to air conditioning. It was also easy to get lost in the crowd between Splash and Thunder, and sometimes I’d just stand there for hours answering questions for confused guests.

I never did this myself, but some Celebrate Greeters ventured over to Tom Sawyer Island. I feel like I was told I couldn’t go there, but people went anyway. You’d hop on one of the rafts and drift away across the Rivers of America to the other side. No one will realize you’re gone, or even think that you might have gone across the Rivers of America to an isolated area. Because, seriously, who goes to Tom Sawyer Island?

There was one Celebrate Greeter who went there almost every day. He was an older guy, and it’s not a stretch to say he hated everything. Guest Relations was wearing on him, so he only wanted to be a Celebrate Greeter every day so he could sit on Tom Sawyer Island and hate everything over there. He’d board the raft, head over to Tom Sawyer Island, and do nothing for eight hours. He’d sit in one of the chairs at the fort, making friends with parents who had let their children run loose through the area. He’d take secret smoke breaks on the backside of the island. When the quick service Aunt Polly’s was open, he’d get snacks. Someone probably thought to tattle on him after a while, but he wasn’t harming anyone, and I don’t think anyone really cared.

Fantasyland wasn’t that much fun. Fantasyland always has been, and always will be, a mess. Every single hour of every single day it is a mess. Have you ever walked through Fantasyland? There’s no other way to describe it other than a MESS. It is always so crowded, and there’s no shade, and there are always screaming children everywhere. I avoided heading to Fantasyland as much as possible.

There was one thing I liked doing there, though. It was the Sword in the Stone. Back in the earlier 90s, there used to be a little show where Merlin would come out and challenge everyone in the castle courtyard to try and pull the sword out. He’d wave his hands around and gather up all the kids, and one by one they’d all have a go at trying to be the strongest, and consequently the once-and-future king. In the end, he’d give out this little sword in the stone medal, and that was that.

For some reason — just,
because
, probably — this show stopped (though I believe it’s now being held again). But the sword in the stone remained, and every now and then it would move. After I became a Celebrate Greeter, I learned how it moved: A garage door opener.

This is 100% true. The mechanics behind the sword and the stone boils down to one of those garage door remotes. There was a key locked up at Guest Relations that I needed to sign out, and then I would walk the key over to Fantasyland where I’d unlock a small box. Inside the box were two things: the on/off switch for the sword, and the garage door opener for it. I’d flip the switch, walk toward the stone, and then wait.

I’d wait kitty-corner to PhilharMagic and watch teenage boys walk over to try to lift the sword, to no avail. Then I’d wait until a little girl dressed as Ariel would give the sword a go, and
of course
I’d raise it for her. I then had to lower it back down with the click of a button, and everyone would laugh and cheer, and little princess Ariel would feel like a hero for the day. I’d do this for hours.

Sometimes, smart parents would realize that I was doing it, and would beg me to do it for their son or daughter. Sometimes I’d agree to it, such as when there were a lot of boys in the family and the youngest one looked sad and the older ones were smug. I’d do it if it meant that the parents would get a real kick out of it, and then the smallest and youngest member of the family would receive bragging rights for the rest of the day.

I wouldn’t do it for parents begging for a photo op. That’s not what it’s there for. I didn’t care that your son was 14 and he wanted to send this picture to his girlfriend back home. That’s not magical, that’s staged.

After Fantasyland, there’s Tomorrowland, of course. Also not my favorite. Also usually crowded and no shade whatsoever. When you think about Tomorrowland, it’s also a very small land. It’s all contained in this big circle, so there aren’t too many places to go once you’re there, except to walk in a circle all the way around.

For me, there was never a good place to stand (there was also never a good place to hide, either). Other Celebrate Greeters used to spend their time in the Tomorrowland Arcade, and would somehow get quarters/tokens and challenge kids to games all day (while these kids waited for their older siblings/parents to get off of Space Mountain). That wasn’t really my speed, and I kinda hung by Buzz instead. Then I’d get bored and walk down Main Street. Then I’d get bored there and walk through Adventureland.

As much as we were supposed to stay in one land all day, we never did. We’d buddy up and make magic
together
. This would involve lots of walking and talking around the park, stopping every now and then to give a kid an ice cream or point out directions.

The weirdest thing we did as Celebrate Greeters was stroller decorating. I don’t know how and why it got started, but we would purchase a bunch of random Disney junk from one of the stores and then just place it in a stroller. It was weird. I did it a lot (with a buddy) for Stitch. I’d think,
Oh, this family just saw Stitch’s Great Escape, they probably hated it, so we should get them some Stitch plushes so the kids aren’t so terrified for the rest of the day when they return to their stroller!
So a buddy and I would go and purchase some Stitch stuffed toys and randomly place them in strollers. There wasn’t a real reason
why
.

Then my buddy and I would hide around the corner and wait for that family to return to the stroller. Sometimes the family would look at the new plush confused. A few times they picked it up and put it in a neighboring stroller, because clearly it had been placed into theirs by accident. Sometimes the kids were genuinely happy to come back and find an actual surprise waiting for them. I always used to write a note, something like, “Hope you liked my ride!” and signed it from Stitch.

Everyday, we had to go to the parade, right after lunch.

We’d clock into work around 8:30am. We’d be out in the park by 9:30am. The parade was at 3pm, and we needed to start getting set up for it at 2, so we’d go to lunch around 12:30. And we’d stay there until 2.

The five of us weren’t supposed to take an hour-and-a-half lunch; it just happened. Sometimes it was hot, or raining, or we just didn’t feel like standing in Fantasyland any longer. So we’d all head down to the cast member “Mousekateria”. We were given radios so we could talk to one another throughout the day, but the managers back at City Hall could hear everything we were saying. It became an unspoken thing that we’d meet in the Mousekateria right around 12:30 for some food and air conditioning.

And then it was time for the parade.

Our first duty was to get a rope. The rope was at City Hall. We’d take the rope to the very end of the parade route. The parade ends in Frontierland, where it goes up the little incline and disappears out of sight from guests. This is where we needed to set things up.

So we’d take this rope and hook it up to some stanchion poles that the parade cast members had already prepared. Usually, we’d show up and there would be no one there. But sometimes there would be guests already huddled together in the shade, reserving their space for the parade.

We had to politely ask these guests to move. They never wanted to. However, the Grand Marshal family
needed
this spot. It was the only area of shade down here in Frontierland, and by the time the Grand Marshal family gets to the end of the parade they have usually been in direct sunlight for about 45 minutes without water. We don’t want them passing out immediately after they step out of the Grand Marshal car. The plan every day was to get them out of the car and into the shade and shove water bottles into their faces, so they wouldn’t get dehydrated and wouldn’t pass out on us in front of the other guests and the continuing parade (also, there was no way to get an medical unit around the parade, so they really couldn’t pass out).

Most guests were pretty cool with moving over a little bit so we could secure our shady spot. Sometimes we’d make agreements with guests, perhaps letting them stand in the spot until the parade hit Fronterland, and then they had to leave. Most were OK with that, and would just step aside into the sun at the appointed time.

Of course, there were the guests who were mean and rude to me because I was asking them
very
politely to move so I could do my job.

“I’ve been standing here for forty-five minutes, and now you want me to move?” one woman said to me. I explained that this spot was reserved, and that she could stand elsewhere along the route, but she couldn’t stand in the shade. “But I’ve been standing here for forty-five minutes,” she told me again, and I wanted to say, “BULLSHIT, you have not been standing out here since 1:15pm, and even if you had been, there’s nothing on your ticket that promises you this spot.” But I never did.

“But the baby’s asleep” another woman said to me, and I looked at the four year old in the stroller who was in fact asleep, and I doubt she would wake up if she were moved two feet to the side.

“They told us this was handicapped viewing,” a dad told me, as he gestured to his party made up of three grandparents all in wheelchairs. I had to explain that whoever had told him that was misinformed, and that this tiny little shaded spot was not handicapped viewing. He yelled at me, because now he had to push his three grandparents all the way down Frontierland to find the real handicapped designated spot.

“No,” the woman said, standing strong and firm in her spot. “We are not moving.”

“I apologize, ma’am, but this is actually reserved viewing for—”

“I’m not moving. No one else told me I couldn’t stand here for the parade.”

I looked at the other cast members around me. None of them were going to talk to this already irate guest. And now it was my fault that some parade cast member had accidentally let her stand here for too long while my back was turned, and I was going to have to ruin her whole day by making her move.

“I’m sorry, but this space is reserved. There are still lots of other great viewing locations down—”

“Are you deaf? Did you not hear me? I am not moving my family.” She had two strollers with her, a bazillion bags between the two of them, and another older kid standing behind one of them.

“I apologize for the inconvenience, but—”

“Is your manager here? I want to talk to them.”

Yes, lady, my manager is standing here in Frontierland with me, because they love to stand in Frontierland at 2:30pm on random Wednesdays just to take in the ambiance of the park. It’s not like they have anything better to do, like run Guest Relations at the front of Main Street. Hold on, let me get them for you right now. “My manager is unavailable. Can I offer you some FastPasses or ice cream to make up for the inconvenience?”

“Mom, take the ice cream!” the older boy yelled.

“Shut up,” the mom yelled back at him. “I’m not moving till I talk to your manager.”

There were some guest situations that I just couldn’t fix by myself. Occasionally, I got myself into these situations and I knew there wasn’t a manager around anywhere to get me out of it. So, in lieu of a manager, I’d just grab another cast member who happened to be taller and maybe looked a little bit older, and today, that was Steve.

He was standing farther down the path in Frontierland, talking to some guests. He was deep in a conversation with them. I walked right up and poked him in the back. “I need your help,” I whispered.

Steve and I had been Celebrate Greeter-ing together for a week. We had slowly become friends. We were the same age, but he stood roughly 6 feet tall, and looked like he was in his early thirties. He needed to pretend to be a manager right now.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, excusing himself from the family.

“There’s a mean woman over there, and she won’t move from the Grand Marshall spot. She wants to talk to a manager. Sooo… can you go talk to her?”

“What am I supposed to tell her?”

“Tell her that you’re the manager on duty of the parade, and that spot is reserved, and she can’t stand there.”

Steve nodded, understanding that he was now playing pretend for me. “OK, one sec.” He left me behind, and I watched him stride over to the mean woman. He stuck out his hand and shook hers, something every manager does as soon as they enter into a guest situation. For some reason, this woman was fine talking to Steve, the fake manager, but didn’t care to give me the little bit of respect I was asking for. Whatever Steve said to her it worked, because she moved her strollers away from the shaded spot.

The first five times I watched the parade it was magical. I had a front-row seat as the floats came around the corner before disappearing into the backstage area of Frontierland. The first five times I saw it I got all giddy like a kid, and found myself waving to Mickey Mouse and mouthing along with the words.

The next five times I saw it, it wasn’t that exciting.

Neither were the next twenty.

Every single day I watched the parade. It must be different if you’re actually performing in it, seeing as how that’s your job, and that’s what you’re trained to do. I imagine you love it, too.

But I was the equivalent of a guest who happened to watch the parade every single day. After a while, the dancers stop treading me as “new” and “excited” and started ignoring me. I was ignoring them, so it was mutual.

The five Celebrate Greeters would get the Grand Marshals out of their car, throw some water bottles at them, and then we had to race to the
other
side of the street. We’d watch the parade from backstage. The Frontierland path curves upwards once it goes through the Frontierland gate, and there are some prop crates back there (for what, who knows). The five of us would huddle around those boxes and wait for the parade to finish. Sometimes we’d duck down so we could check our phones. Other times we would just sit right on top of the boxes, because who exactly was going to yell at us, anyway? There’s a parade going on!