Dear Future Stella,
I am one of those moms who never has anything on me in case of an emergency. I don’t like schlepping and I hate the bad luck quality of planning for the worse. When you were a tiny baby I would venture out with just the clothes on your back and a tiny purse that mainly contained my needs (money, lip gloss, cell phone). I would see moms who would arrive and look more like they were backpacking through Europe then attempting a casual lunch out. I never understood it. I still don’t. This trip was no exception, so when you decided to get the plague at Disney, I had a lot of items to acquire. They didn’t have childrens liquid Tylenol/Advil at our hotel gift shop. Um? Note to fucking Disneyland Hotel- 90% of your clientele are kids- might want to check into that. I ended up buying the infant Advil, resulting in you having to down a pint size glass of grape flavored syrup in order to be the equivalent of your proper dose. It was either that or buy the adult Advil, half a pill, crush it up and figure out a way to get you to snort it. We also had to buy a thermometer, and up and until this point, you have only had the kind that briefly touches your temple. This one was the standard under-the-tongue model, which you reacted as if I told you I was requiring you to eat the device, as opposed to just stick it in your mouth. You literally acted like a psycho. You wanted to know what it was going to taste like. Metal. You said you hate metal. You wanted to know if it was going to hurt. No. Yes it will you said. I held you down and your Dad performed the surgery of putting the thermometer in your mouth.
After I purchased all the items in the gift shop that pertained to your illness, I then started to network with my resources to access more medical supplies. First, I called my sister, your Tia, who would have come to San Francisco to help us out if that was necessary, but considering she lives in Southern California and was on her way to our hotel anyway, this favor was relatively easy. She’s the kind of mom who has everything so I didn’t really ask for anything specific, I just told her what your symptoms were and awaited her arrival. Your Tia arrived with a tiny red leather case containing all sorts of neatly labeled vials of clear oils. Along with them came some instructions (your Tia couldn’t be there for the actual administering of these drugs but she texted me detailed notes). These oils were some sort of hippie-voodoo-magic potions that she has been really into. I read the text and then checked out the oils. First of all, they smelled like a store that you would go to if you were in search of a dream catcher, mixed with an herb garden and a little bit of day spa. I vaguely remembered one was supposed to get rubbed on your spine, one on the bottom of your feet and one on your chest. In reality what happened was that I just sort of dabbled a little bit of everything on you and massaged it all in like I was preparing a Thanksgiving turkey before placing it in the oven. I was quite satisfied because, for the first time in days, someone smelled worse than me.
Here’s the bummer about the timing of your illness. We were supposed to check out of our hotel today, spend the day at Disneyland (remember up until this point you had only seen California Adventure) then I was going to fly home late that night and you were going to stay at some random (less expensive) hotel with your dad and drive home the next morning. Checkout at the Disneyland Hotel was 10am and you couldn’t check into the new hotel until 3pm. This left us with 6 hours of homelessness and our only options were to keep you in a baking hot car, or quarantine you inside a stroller and wander around Disneyland. We chose the latter for so many reasons and although I was conflicted about bringing a sick child into Disneyland, we really didn’t have a more attractive scenario. It’s not like you had the measles. Your fever was gone at this point and you were totally happy being rolled around the park in your stroller gurney.
After spending the day at Disneyland l did leave with a long list of questions and general WTF moments. Here are my top 3.
1) We saw a grown ass man, and by grown ass I mean in his 20’s, stand in line for over an hour to meet Rapunzel by himself, take photos with her and ask her a million questions. I need to know that this behavior is allowed at Disneyland only because he gets some sort of flag next to his name and the FBI is notified immediately. I would have to imagine that a giant portion of the strange crimes that people commit would be greatly reduced if Disneyland staff were able to report this odd behavior. I really tried to think of any situation that would make this interaction justifiable and I couldn’t think of anything.
2) Disneyland staff are not being properly utilized for their strengths. These people are like god damn secret agents. They approached me to pick up and throw away an empty drink container that I had set behind my foot on the ground during a parade. I would guess 2 square inches were visuable to the naked eye and they spotted that shit. If 1 man in a crowd of 100 was standing when they were supposed to be sitting, the Disney police were on it. Illegal flash photography happening during a ride? Not on their fucking watch. My dad was reprimanded for sitting in a stroller because they were only for kids. I mean, I am almost certain I could drive around SF with a gun pointed out my window and the Disney staff would stop me before the cops.These people need to be fighting terrorism, not picking up trash.
3) I want to have a focus group with people who feel the need to record an entire ride/performance/parade. I just don’t understand. Do they watch these videos again? Do they edit them down to the maybe 3 seconds of savable material? Do they think people want to see the second-hand, jolty, fuzzy version of a Disney parade in its entirety? Besides the obvious bore factor, these people never have a clear shot the entire time so random people are often coming in and out of view. Due to the fact that they are recording these events on cell phones, film school doesn’t seem to be something they would have likely completed, so I’m guessing the quality of these cinematic ventures are absolutely terrible.
I did force you out of your hospital on wheels a few times, much to your dismay, but I just couldn’t swallow the fact that you were missing out on so much fun. One of the times was to make you go on Star Tours. I really really wanted a picture with Current Stella in Tomorrowland (how’s that for a contradiction?) so that one day we can come back and recreate it but with Future Stella.
Don’t you look so thrilled to be there? Also important to note is not long after the ride you puked in the bushes.
Future Stella, I love you. Current Stella, you are such a hot mess and I hope you wake tomorrow feeling so much better.