The Happiest Place on Earth Was Not as Bad as Expected

A recent trip to Disney World with my seven-year-old daughter was hot, thrilling, tiring, exciting, and worthwhile.

In planning our trip to Disney World, my family all bought new Disney shirts.

A Minnie Mouse shirt for my wife and a Lion King design for my daughter.

Me? They bought me one with Grumpy on it.

I will admit, my attitude going into this vacation was not exactly the best. I grumbled in advance about the money, the crowds, the airlines, and the heat.

I wanted, instead, to go someplace to experience nature. Or history. Anywhere besides a crowded amusement park.

But, as always, I was outvoted and at the beginning of June, we boarded a plane to take us from Wichita, Kansas to Orlando, Florida.

Let me cut to the chase.

I was right.

Flying was hell. Our flight was delayed, and we missed our connecting flight.

Florida was hot. Disney was crowded and everything was expensive.

You would think the happiest place on Earth would have shorter lines and more shady places to sit down.

At the end of each day, our feet were swollen and in pain. We did this for five days in a row. To me, it was hell on Earth.

But I was also wrong.

The happiest place on Earth had its share of magic.

My daughter loved seeing the Disney characters live and in front of her.

She clapped with glee at the fireworks and the performances each night. She did not want to miss out on anything.

That is how we ended up in line for the Tower of Terror at Hollywood Studios.

At seven, my daughter is not known for being particularly brave. She still covers her eyes when villains come on movie screens, even Disney villains.

So, you can imagine my surprise when she refused to sit out the Tower of Terror, a sudden 13-story drop from the top of a building.

I warned her it would be scary. I advised her to skip this ride.

But she insisted and soon found herself strapped in a seat next to me.

She was, indeed, terrified. For most of the ride, she buried her head in my side as best she could. She screamed and held on for dear life.

When we were done, she said, “That was scary, but I am glad I did it.”

She ran around excitedly, her adrenaline fueling her jubilation. To her, she had just climbed Mount Everest.

From there, we rode countless rollercoasters and thrill rides. Each one scared her in its own way but she refused to sit anything out.

I watched my little girl grow up just a bit during that week.

I watched her gain confidence in herself, and I watched her mind open up to new experiences.

I watched a girl learning a lot about herself. I couldn’t have been prouder.

Or happier.

I guess maybe Grumpy wasn’t the right choice for my shirt, after all. There really was some magic in the happiest place on Earth.

Next year, we will go to the Grand Canyon for sure. I will insist on it.

But I am not disappointed with our choice of Disney World this year. It was never about me, anyway. It was always about my daughter.

This summer, the right place and right time to be for her was in Florida during a hot week in June, standing in never-ending queues for thrill rides that helped her cross the line from Daddy’s little girl to a maturing, confident young lady.

For a story leading up to this vacation:

For another travel story by Curt: