An Awfully Big Adventure

Hour Twelve: The Disney Store

12. Have a scene take place in the Disney Store.

"Finally, they're opening up the gates!" Wendy croons, throwing her arms open and dashing towards the entrance. One of her flailing limbs smacks Chip across the chest and he winces, partly because he was not expecting to be struck and partly because Wendy's singing is never far from atrocious.

"Was that a... Frozen reference?" he asks tentatively. Wendy's spring for the turnstiles is cut short because she nearly bowls over a mother pushing a stroller.

So, she turns to face Chip, again flinging her arms in the air, but this time as a victory celebration. "It was! You could actually tell? Was I on key?"

"Uhh..." Chip responds, beginning to say something, but managing to catch his tongue in time. Instead, he opts to pat her on the shoulder, "You'll get there. It's okay."

Wendy acknowledges his awkward condolences and strained apologetic expression and starts laughing, "Dude, it's okay. I know I can't sing for crap. It's a miracle that none of these kids started crying."

“They probably just have bad hearing,” Dale says, “or maybe their underdeveloped brains couldn’t even process it as singing. Maybe you were filtered away as white noise.”

Wendy looks at him, nonplussed, “Gee, thanks.”

Dale pretends to not understand sarcasm, a tongue that he is fluent in, “No problem.” Then Dale promptly moves away from the conversation, craning his neck over the taller parents ahead of him. He is in search of something great and he believes that Disney is the greatest. The crowd is moving, but it is not fast enough for him.  Even though he is already one of the privileged, relatively ahead of the masses, Dale finds himself biting the insides of his cheeks to restrain himself from using force to shove people out of his path.

Wendy notices the tautness in Dale’s shoulders and squeezes next to him, knocking his side a little to get his attention. Immediately, he averts his eyes to the girl at his side.

“Relax,” she mouths at him. He shakes his head, trying to clear it, but Wendy takes the action as a mark of defiance. “What’s the point of being so uptight over a plan? I hardly ever have one, and I’ve turned out more or less all right… I think.”

“Besides,” Chip chips in, “This is the happiest place on earth, only the grown-ups get stressed out, and you wouldn’t want to be one of them, would you?”

Dale makes a face, “Oh God, no.”

The conversation is just long enough to span the length of their walk to the entrance, and the trio finds themselves at the front of the pack, next in line for ticket purchases.

“Three one-day tickets, please,” Wendy tells the lady working the ticket booth. The worker looks at them, a bored expression on her face. She is obviously tired from having to repeat the same lines for the past ten or so years. “Will that be park-hopper or just single tickets?”

They opt for three single tickets to Disneyland, because God knows they can hardly afford the tickets as is. Through the glass screen, they can hear a machine hum as it processes their purchase. Wendy hands the teller a wad of cash, which she bitterly accepts and even more bitterly begins to count. Chip winces slightly for making her do so, and hunches his shoulders, attempting to shield himself from the exponentially growing line behind him. He feels as if the three of them are the sole cause of the hold-up. And while it is true that the line has grown in length since they have stepped up to the plate, the exaggerated sense of self-blame brewing in Chip’s mind is far from reality.

Finally, she has counted the money and printed out the tickets. She hands the three slips of paper and the few cents of change to Wendy. Wendy gives a thank you, takes the tickets and walks off, expecting Chip and Dale to follow. Dale does so without a moment’s hesitation. However, Chip stoops over a little catch the worker’s attention. She narrows her eyes, not out of annoyance, but of recognition of the peculiarity.

“I’m really sorry. About the money thing.” Chips says this with such authenticity she feels obliged to wave it off, even smiling at him, “Don’t worry about it. Math keeps the mind sharp, eh? Go run along and have fun with your friends.”

Chip smiles in return and gives a final nod of concessions before scanning the crowd for his friends. Dale is considerably easier to spot since he is taller than Wendy. It also helps that he’s waving his arms about to catch Chip’s attention and his horrible purple shirt doesn’t exactly blend in with the normal park-goer.  Chip makes his way over to them, not commenting on Dale’s fashion sense.

As he is approaching, Wendy points at the purple shirt, and it takes Chip awhile to realize that she is in fact, not pointing at the monstrosity, but Dale in general. “I convinced this guy to go to the Disney store before going on the rides. Is that all right with you?” she asks.

Chip shrugs, not really having an opinion. It has suddenly hit him that he is in Disneyland. Main Street stands before him hustling and bustling with friendly brick buildings. If not for the crowds, he would be reminded of small towns in the Midwest, a close knit community always welcoming newcomers. perhaps the street is supposed to cause a bit of culture shock, juxtaposing with the towering skyscrapers of L.A. just thirty minutes north. Needless to say, it always feels a little bit magical and a lot like home. And Chip, like thousands of other visitors has temporarily been rendered silent by the sheer intensity in the air.

Wendy has interpreted Chip’s shrug as a ‘go for it’, and again walks off with Dale and Chip trails after. He is still a bit mystified, the initial shock still not wearing off. Not completely shaken free from his stupor, he follows Wendy into the shop.

Clearly, the store is tailored to the younger kids, because as soon as the doors slide open, the trio is met with an onslaught of plush animals and frilly princess dresses. Chip already knows that, because this is Disney, everything in the shop will be garishly expensive. He makes a silent pact with himself not to spend any more money.

Wendy and Dale, however, have fallen into the basic consumer trap. Though there are many small shops littered throughout the amusement park, the two of them have their minds and hearts set on purchasing something. Immediately, Wendy rushes forward, pressing the first stuffed animal to her face. Because of her action, the boys give her strange looks. She is forced to defend herself, “What? It’s really soft!” She extends her hand, offering a Simba collectible to Dale, “Feel it!”

Hesitantly, Dale pats Simba on its forehead, a bit self-conscious that the children and parents throughout the store are judging him. Any thoughts of insecurity, however, vanish as soon as the fur of the little lion hit Dale’s hand. Dale’s eyes widen in surprise, and he moves in to stroke Simba with both hands. “Oh my God.”

“Right?” Wendy agrees.

“How long are you guys going to spend in here?” Chip asks the two of them. “We’re in Disneyland. I think I’d rather experience adrenaline rushes and junk food than spend my whole day in the gift shop.”

Wendy tilts her head, approximating how long she’ll spend in the store, “Ten to fifteen minutes tops,” she promises. “I just want to get something to document our travels. This is a turning point in my life. I can feel it.”

Chip nods, ignoring her dramaticism and doubles the alleged time in his mind. Wendy and Dale appear to be the distracted type, aimlessly flitting between shelves and racks. They search for nothing in particular, but seem to fawn over every object they come across. Chip follows them around, at a less excited pace, hoping that his presence is enough to calm them.

It isn’t.

Even though Chip finds his comrades’ pursuit of purchasing silly, for he never really understood the thrill of material things, there is something about enthusiasm that is contagious. With Wendy and Dale emitting sprays of high spirits, Chip can’t help but catch wind. He smiles. This is the material he enjoys; these are the moments he lives for.

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Dedicated to Kevin, because he's in my NaNoWriMo cabin, and is quite the writer himself. Plus, we're apparently distantly related, but he doesn't seem to care.