The Ride Delegate: Memoir of a Walt Disney World VIP Tour Guide (22 page)

“You’re not coming?” Grandma wondered. It was clear that she did not want to have to supervise the children herself.

“No,” I replied. No explanation. No excuse. Just no. I turned and fought my way up through the queue line, and pushed open a hidden door that brought me back to the courtyard.

I walked quickly from the courtyard, past the merchandise shop, towards the Adventureland pirates bathrooms, past the bathrooms, and came to a stop at the wheelchair exit for the attraction. It’s tucked way far off to the side. I pulled out my phone and called my mom.

I was crying before she answered. Not just crying a little, but hysterically crying, gasping for breath, tears streaming down my face, and then the Walt Disney World Railroad rolled by, and all the guests riding the train saw this little tour guide crying hysterically hidden behind Pirates. I was crying so loudly that the coordinator down at the unload area came upstairs to make sure that everything was okay.

Through gasps I told the coordinator I was fine, and he offered to get me a wheelchair to sit on, or something to drink, but I kept on shaking my head “no”. It was just one of those times where I couldn’t be consoled. I leaned against the wall and slumped down into a heap on the floor. The coordinator stood idly by, just in case I were to throw myself in front of the oncoming Roy E. Disney train.

“Are your guests on the ride?” he asked after a while. I nodded. “If it makes you feel any better, we’re at a ride stop. They’re not getting off any time soon.”

That was the only bright spot to my day. My guests were stuck on Pirates for a half hour, and when they emerged I had cleaned myself up, reapplied my makeup, and you couldn’t tell that I had been crying hysterically in a backstage location moments before. They complained about getting stuck on the ride and at such a “bad spot” and wondered if they would be refunded for their trouble. Grandma asked me that question at least two or three times before the end of the day, and I politely ignored her each time.

I was completely removed from this family for the rest of the day, and mindlessly pushed the stroller all around Frontierland, making a stop at Splash and Thunder before the family decided they wanted to do Country Bear Jamboree. I ushered them into the theater and continued to walk right across and exited out. Conveniently, Country Bear Jamboree exits into Pecos Bill’s, and I found myself in line ordering my feelings off of the quick service menu: onion rings, sweet potato fries, a root beer float, and a bottle of water. I took my food, pried open one of the exit doors to Country Bears, and sat on the floor in the dark and ate my food, listening to Big Al sing softly in the background.

As if I had timed it, as soon as they emerged from the show the parade was getting ready to step off on a reversed route, so it would be starting right in front of us. The kids wanted to see the show, so I brought them as close to the rope as I could manage, and I stood behind them while Grandma and Grandpa stood in air conditioning three shops down. The parade rolled by and I just stared idly ahead of it, barely registering the dances and the characters and the floats.

The worst part was that everyone in the parade noticed this sad-looking tour guide standing next to the rope, and I swear every single dancer and character came by to cheer me up. I looked up at the float at one point to see Prince Eric waving down at me, and then he formed a small heart with his hands, pointing at me. I managed a half smile at Prince Eric; Prince Eric just happened to be my best friend’s roommate.

The tour ended a half hour early. Grandma and Grandpa were over everything at Disney World, and bid me goodbye as soon as the parade passed. They turned and headed into Liberty Square and I made a beeline for Main Street to continue to drown my sorrow in corn dog nuggets. I took my Casey’s Corner meal backstage behind the Crystal Palace and ate in silence.

By this time the parade had made its way down to Main Street, and was loudly exiting off. The princess float came around the corner and I saw all the characters jump off. Prince Eric, still clad in his costume nad prince wig, spotted me and came over to find me sitting on the bench behind First Aid. I offered him a nugget and he declined. He offered me a hug and I accepted. I wanted to cry into his shoulder, but he was in his parade best, and there was no way I could let mascara tears run down his white shirt. Ariel would be so mad.

Prince Eric asked me if I was okay, and I assured him that I was. He waved goodbye to me and I finished off my lunch, walked across Main Street, got back into my car, and drove to the Office.

I was less than happy to do another tour immediately the next day, but it was a two-guide tour and I couldn’t leave the other guide hanging. It was a ridiculously hot day, and when I showed up to meet the other guide, Harry, he apologized about how he was already gross and sweaty.

The family was Mom and Dad, their kids, their adult siblings and their kids, and then Grandma and Grandpa. We had two fifteen-passenger vans and fifteen guests between the two of us. The kids were cute. Harry was an older dad-like tour guide, while I appeared to be a big sister. The young tweens on the tour took to me and asked me to show them how to braid their hair like I had mine done up all over my head, and asked me about boys and nail polish and Disney princes. I showed them a picture of Prince Eric and I, and they fawned over that for two hours.

Though thinking back, I can’t remember any of the kids’ names.

Toward the end of the day it started to pour and we got trapped inside of Space Mountain. Ponchos and umbrellas were conveniently placed in the van back in the parking lot, and the family made the decision to run for it. I had no choice but to comply. On the count of three we all rushed out of the building and into the puddles of Tomorrowland as we sped towards our hidden vehicles. By the time we reached the cars we were all soaked, but no one seemed to mind too much. I didn’t even mind. I now smelled vaguely like a wet dog due to my wool vest, but the kids thought it was funny. I drove them back to the hotel and everyone hugged me as they left. Dad slipped me a few crisp bills and shook my hand, thanking me for such a wonderful day. I watched them enter the hotel and disappear from my view.

Harry and I drove back to the Office and began our after-tour paperwork. I copied our food receipts while Harry turned in the vehicle keys. “It was such a pleasure working with you today,” he said, as I fastened the receipts to their copies. “I hope we can do it again soon! You were such an easy guide to work with.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “Today was fun.”

“You bet!” he went in to hug me, then realized how gross and sweaty and rain soaked we were, and stopped. We high-fived instead. “I’m going to request you next time I need a second guide!” Harry winked and left the copy room. I turned in the receipts, said goodbye to the coordinators still working hard at booking dining reservations, and left the Office.

Like Bean Bunny says at the end of Muppet Vision 3D, “What a cute ending.”

I saw British Jake one more time before I left Disney.

My last day of work was spent at Magic Kingdom doing the Keys to the Kingdom tour. This wasn’t by any means a VIP tour; instead, it was a five hour walking tour of the park where I’d point at lampposts and trashcans and describe their place in Disney history. Unlike a VIP tour, the twenty guests on a Keys tour couldn’t dictate what we were going to do in the park. I had a set route and a set lunchtime and they had to listen to me talk about Disney for five hours because I had a microphone and they had earpieces. I loved doing Keys tours.

I was trying my hardest not to be emotional about my last tour, since I was trying to make it my Best Keys Tour ever. Everyone knew I was on the verge of hysterical tears at any given second, so they tried to stay away from topics that might upset me, like how I wasn’t going to have corn dog nuggets on a daily basis any more. I knew there was only one spot along the tour route that might give me trouble: Haunted Mansion. It’s my favorite attraction; it’s been that way since I was little. Saying goodbye to it one last time was gong to be hard. I loved talking about the attraction. I loved the history of the attraction. I knew I could talk for hours on end about it, and even though guests asked me to on a daily basis, I kept my Keys explanation down to a solid half hour. That was the only time I might cry.

Haunted Mansion was discussed during a Keys tour immediately after lunch, which always took place at Columbia Harbour House. I had made it in and out of lunch without any tears, and I only had two hours left of the tour. I looked at my looming friend through the Harbour House windows and knew it was time to go. I turned my microphone back on, alerted my guests that we were moving out, and led them over to the Mansion where I poured my heart into the explanation of its history, its design, and its hidden secrets. Then I led the guests inside and I said goodbye to all my friends: not the Cast Members who worked there, but the ghosts, all 999 of them. I somehow made it out of the attraction without crying and I felt on top of the world.

I began to lead my guests out of Haunted Mansion and through the throngs of guests hanging around in the area. I was crossing back in front of Harbour House when I heard someone call my name faintly off in the distance.

“Princess Annie! It’s Princess Annie!”

I turned to look through the crowd and I spotted him: British Jake and his whole family. British Jake sat on his father’s shoulders, and the whole family waved to me. I waved back, excitedly. Jake’s dad leaned down, and Jake jumped off. He came running towards me. I knew there was only one thing that was going to happen, so I reached around and muted my mic so none of the guests would hear what was about to happen.

British Jake jumped into my arms and it was the most perfect moment. I told him that I had missed him and he told me he was so glad to see me again. I knew it was probably going to be the last time I saw him, ever. His dad came over to collect him, hugging me too, and I hugged British Jake’s dad right back. I waved goodbye to him, and I silently cried behind my black sunglasses as I led my Keys tour toward The Hall of Presidents. That’s all the time I gave myself to cry. I had decided against telling this Keys tour that it was going to be my last tour ever, and I wanted to keep it that way. They didn’t need to know that I only had two more hours left to be a Cast Member.

I wondered if that’s what Peter Pan felt like when he dropped Wendy off in her London home. Wendy was just going to go off and grow up without him, like Jake would do without Princess Annie. We reached the Hall of Presidents and I turned my mic back on. I still had a tour to finish.

You could say I had a series of unfortunate events befall me during my last summer at Disney. One thing led into another, and that snowballed into something else, and I felt like I had senioritis for a fixed term that didn’t have an end date. Like when Belle is singing her little princess heart out about wanting “adventure in the great wide somewhere!”—that’s how I felt. But every time I tried to break into song on Main Street I was told to get back to work. I told my managers that, just like Rapunzel, I needed to go out and see those floating lanterns and find a new dream, and one of my managers asked, “Who?”

The day I arrived at Disney I told myself I would leave when everything began to lose its magical luster. I knew the sheen was starting to tarnish around me, and I wanted to hold on to what I still had. I thought about what it was like to be a guest and I wanted that feeling back again. I didn’t want to have to stress about reversed parade routes, and refurbishments, and downtimes, weather, gluten-free dining choices, kosher dining choices, and rides that didn’t have any hippos because little Sally was terrified of them. I wanted to walk down Main Street again and see the Castle situated at the other side and remember what it was like to see that for the first time. I didn’t want to see it any more and think about all the times I had been yelled at in front of it.

There is something absolutely magical about Disney, and I thought about my future children and how I wanted to take them to Disney one day and show them this magical place. I felt like I needed to leave to preserve that magic.

The weird thing about leaving Disney is that you never actually leave it. It’s like the Ghost Host who manically laughs at the end of Haunted Mansion, “and a ghost will follow you home!” The Ghost of Disney followed me home.

I can’t go a single day of my life without seeing a Mickey Mouse keychain, or a Mickey Mouse antenna topper, or seeing a little kid wearing a Rapunzel shirt, or passing a boy clutching a Woody doll. Disney is everywhere. I can’t even go to the gym without someone two treadmills down from me sporting a runDisney shirt. When I get stuck in traffic, without fail, they’ll be a mini-van in front of me with a stick figure family sporting Mickey ears.

I guess you can take the girl out of Disney but you can’t take the Disney out of the girl.

And yes, I miss corn dog nuggets every day of my life; I don’t miss waiting in the line at Casey’s Corner during the parade.

My wish is that I one day become wealthy enough to hire my own VIP tour guide for four days, because I will be the best tour guest
ever
. I won’t ask to feed a giraffe, and I won’t yell at the guide because they accidentally forgot to book dinner in Italy. I will, however, insist on four different guides for each day. And I plan to thank them all differently. One guide will receive a thick wad of cash. One will receive a stack of gift cards. The third will probably get like some physical gift, maybe like a small kitchen appliance or an Xbox, or something like that. The fourth will get nothing, but I’ll mail them an adequate check in a week.

Why?

Because I just want to see how a new generation of tour guides squirms under the pressure of what to tell the Office they had been gifted for tax purposes. Seriously, how is one of them going to declare a KitchenAid mixer? I guess you could say that’s my new Disney dream.

Annie Salisbury spent 1,164 days at The Walt Disney World Resort and probably ate about 7,000+ corn dog nuggets from Casey’s Corner in The Magic Kingdom. In contrast, she has never eaten a Turkey Leg. Her favorite attraction always has been, and always will be, The Haunted Mansion. She still remembers what it was like before the invention of FastPass, and thinks of that time as the good old days.