Dispatch From Disneyland
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Alone at Disneyland

As a child I dreamt of being alone in the park after closing. I imagined that I would hide out in the bushes and then after everyone was gone I'd have my run of the park. As an adult I know that such a scenario isn't very likely. Not unless I'm Bill Gates rich or lucky enough to know someone important.

I have found out that there are moments when you feel very much alone in the park. Long minutes go by without seeing anyone else. All you hear is the distant background music or the occasional giggle of playing children.

You've chosen to come to the park on a winter's day soon after the major holidays. Even better, its raining. Raining so hard and long in fact that an announcement was just made that the park would be closing at 7pm instead of the scheduled 9pm.

You hear a general moan ripple through the guests in attendance. It's already a pretty light day and those who have stuck around through the rain fall into two camps: Yellow Mickey Mouse poncho wearing folk who are trying to get the best out of their day or the unprepared totally soaked variety, who by this time of the day are cold, miserable, and heading to the exit in droves.

You fall into a much smaller third camp. Those who wait for these days with a certain amount of glee. In the last few hours of these dark and rainy days it's possible to have the park to themselves. Well practically at least.

In Critter Country the lights are very dim, not quite able to overcome the dark clouds that are emptying their load all around you. A few brave souls run into the entrance of Splash Mountain, but other than that you are the only guest in sight. Just you and the atmosphere music, which coincidentally is playing Let the Rain Pour Down.

The song changes and you skip off to the more sanguine Zip-ADee Doo Dah. You climb your way up the hill toward the big haunted mansion. When it looms into being you stop and admire how gloomily it lurks there with the dark clouds and rain. Lights flicker and someone screams as if falling down a deep hole. You get the feeling it would be very dangerous to linger here too long.

You pass by the train station, the gateway to New Orleans Square, and noticed how deserted it is. A few small birds have taken shelter from the rain and flutter around in the slowly growing puddles. You approach but they fly off in a flurry as the tracks shake to life with the approach of the steam engine number two.

The train only has one occupied car. You count three families for maybe a total of ten people. All in the severely soaked category. No one disembarks. Instead you watch them shiver off into the wilderness as the train departs for Fantasyland.

The winding streets of New Orleans Square are just as deserted as the train. Flickering streetlights reflect in the growing puddles of rain. The lovely matrons of the Blue Bayou are closing up shop early and even the pirates at the Pieces of Eight store have boarded their windows against the storm.

Out fighting the elements is the true hero, in your estimation, of the story--the Disneyland Sweeper. In the rain they cover their white whites with yellow plastic and trade in their bloom stick for a push broom. This poor fellow's job is to push the rain out of the walk ways, preventing major puddles and safety hazards, if possible. A hopeless task. You walk by and ask his opinion on all this weather. He says he's familiar with it. His nametag shows his home as Halifax, CA. and you wonder out aloud if that is why. The sweeper from Halifax can only nod his head in sad agreement.

Your wandering has taken you to the path between Frontierland and Fantasyland. Now you're guaranteed some alone time. Even during summer nights its possible to be alone on this path. On a night like tonight you can sit back, relax, and watch the world go by without seeing a sole for long periods of time. In fact tonight the Mark Twain silently glided by twice before you saw more than 3 people.

You check your watch and are amazed how swiftly it reached 6:30pm.

In Fantasyland it is all sparkles and glitter. The rain and water amplifies the effects of the magic lights by 10 and you can't pass up sticking around for a ride or two. There is no wait for any dark ride and the cast members seem happy to see another soul. You even get to go around Pinocchio twice.

Afterwards it's through the castle gate to the sounds of When You Wish Upon a Star. As you pass under the Disney family crest, you can't help but think about how many times Walt took this same walk with no one in the park.

As you look off into the distance, past the partners statue, you notice how empty Main Street is. Just for curiosity sake, you ask a nearby security guard what the current in park population is? He says they're estimating a whopping total of 50 guests right now.

It's now 7:05pm and you reach Coke Corner just as Rod Miller is wrapping up his closing number. In the rain he has been moved inside and you stay and chat for a bit while he closes up the piano.

Moving out onto Main Street you notice that all the shops are already closed. You take a slow walk toward Town Square totally alone on the street. Each window is a thank you, each shop restocking the memories they've sold today.

Then amazingly enough the rain dies out.

Everything becomes still. The flag that soars over the train station hangs at rest. The Main Street music loop becomes eerily silent. Nothing moves. You realize there is a good chance that you're the last guest in the park.

You continue on from the end of Main Street toward Town Hall, the tunnel, and the reality of everyday living. Then behind you comes the sound of a few falling footsteps. Perhaps it's security escorting you out. You turn around to say goodnight and thank you, but there is no one there.

Must be the rain again, you think. But then you hear a door close and turning in that direction, you see a light come on in Walt's apartment. Could it be?

-- Indigo (December 1, 1999)