Disney Meltdowns

I’m sitting now in Old Pecos Bill’s, an eatery in FrontierTown. I came here to find some AC to sit in while I eat a stupid-sweet dessert from the nearby Sleepy Hollow Bakery; an ice cream sandwich with two swirled cinnamon churros as the conveyor. I didn’t get a photo of it because after 15 minutes of searching for a table, the only open one I found was way in the back of Pecos Bill’s in a corner that is so dark that it seems like an accident. By the time I sit the sandwich is a half-melted mess anyway. It was as good and bad as it sounds. Fried bread and sugar and dairy.

While I’m sitting I can’t help but overhear an argument among a family sitting at the table next to me. I can’t make out the details. One child, maybe a teenager or college age, is making some kind of frustrated plea about someone else’s shitty behavior on the trip. Another woman (mom or older sister?) cuts in to shut down the smoldering argument: “We are not having this conversation here!”

Meltdowns at Disney World are so common that they start to feel like white noise. Walking around the park in the heat, it’s hard to go 20 feet without seeing a child scream and throw something at the ground. Or a dad tossing his hands up and suppressing curse words, walking in a little circle to try and blow off steam in any socially acceptable manner possible. It’s morbidly entertaining to watch sometimes, but at the same time I can’t blame them. I’m currently on my 5th day trip into Disney during my visit (6th day at a park, counting a day spent at Universal Studios), and every single time the park has been packed to the gills with visitors. Even rides that aren’t popular have sizable waits. On top of that, the heat and humidity is nearly untenable. Combine that with the money and effort necessary for a family of four to even set foot in the park from out of town, and everybody is pretty reasonably set to explode.

Last Monday I found myself unexpectedly in the middle of my own Disney meltdown. Last Monday was my first attempt at a solo day in Disney World. The morning started fine, I rode a few coasters, pulled out my poncho when the rain started, took lots of notes. In two days my partner was set to join me in Florida for the project. That day I found out that she was changing her plans last minute to cancel her trip. The impact was doubly strong because this news was coming on the tail end of a long rocky patch leading up to the trip. It felt like the first big step into our breaking up (it was, two days later we ended things.) The news from her sent me into a panic, it felt impossible to focus on the park, which in turn felt dire—IE Internal monologue: If you wallow in your disintegrating relationship and bust this grant-funded project time, no one’s gonna trust you with the next grant!

It was during that time that I realized another crucial aspect of the Disney Meltdown: the lack of privacy. While calling my mom on the phone I started to cry, but couldn’t let myself comfortably for lack of a place to even turn my face away from a crowd. Short of a bathroom stall there’s just about nowhere you can have your eyes open and see nobody. Quiet is also a non-existent setting in the park. Headphones and music while sitting and looking at a screen is the closest thing I can find to alone time.

It’s been about a week since my personal meltdown, and it’s been a good and bad thing to be here during this break-up. On the one hand I can’t help but remember when having some experiences that she was supposed to be here with me. On the other, being occupied with art and writing feels like one of the better coping mechanisms for heartbreak. I hope this doesn’t sound so bleak or like I’m wishing for sympathy. Moreso I am trying to take my lemons and make lemonade.