Disneyland – the happiest place on earth. Also the fattest.
I didn’t know fat like this existed. It’s not like the fat you sometimes see in the UK. It’s astonishing fat. It’s six belly folds fat. It’s humungous fat and it’s queuing in front of you at the ice cream place ordering a triple chocolate sundae.
The queues in Disneyland are so long because lots of the rides were designed in the 80s when America was thinner – now they can only squeeze one person in per row, when before three people could fit. Hence queues three times as long. I can say this with something like authority because I just googled it and 34% of Americans are officially obese. (compared to the UK where it’s about 17%).
Walking down Main St, trying to avoid being squashed, John looks at me, ‘This is your idea of hell isn’t it?’ he asks. He is smirking. He and Alula are both dancing down main street like they’re auditioning for Fame whilst I am covering my eyes and wishing there was a dark room nearby that I could lie in. Or a Margarita bar empty of all other people that I could lie in.
I am too busy scowling to answer John, but he is right. I hate crowds, I hate noise and most of all I hate smiley people (not fat people. I don’t hate fat people. I’m just astonished and intrigued by them and I actually like being amongst them because it makes me feel ok about ordering a sundae too).
I do kind of hate smiley people though. I think that’s quite British of me. There are many smiley people in Disneyland – the staff/ visitor ratio is about 1:1 and all the staff manically grin. That’s all they do. They just grin. It’s like they know Disneyland Big Brother is watching them and if they stop grinning they’ll get shot. Right there on Main street. I wonder whether when they wake up in the morning they have to swallow a bucket of prozac just to get up. Every night I imagine them going home and injecting muscle relaxant into their cheeks. It makes me depressed. It makes me want to cry.
Lula is in heaven though and this is the point John reminds me. Alula is silently worshipfully in awe of the Princesses. I try to look at Disneyland through her eyes. Instead I’m thinking things like, ‘Oh you poor dear, you probably graduated from Lamda and they have you dressed in that absurd Princess Jasmine get up’ and ‘ugh, sleeping beauty? Think not’ and ‘Tinkerbell looks like Kelly Osbourne’ and ‘Peter Pan bad hair’ and ‘if that animatronic of Johnny Depp is lifesize he’s really, really small. Like an elf’.
Disneyland should have made me nicer. It should have filled me with the spirit of celebration – it should have made me want to unite with all humankind – It’s a small world still rings in my head like a Guantanamo torture tune. But instead it just made me misanthropic and evil. And now I think about it, the only bit I liked and that made me smile was the evil Queen Malificent strutting her way through the crowds scaring the children.