The Golden Age of Radio: Armchair Imagineering

By: Kevin Quigley

For a long time, I've been tinkering with the idea of making a Radio-themed attraction at Disney’s Hollywood Studios.  Back in 1989, the park embraced radio nearly as much as it did movies and TV.  The Radio Disney Building was a working radio studio in a building attached to the Monster Sound Show (now, intermittently, Sounds Dangerous).  It broadcast children’s music first under the name Radio AAHS, then Radio Disney, but when Radio Disney moved its headquarters to Dallas, TX in 2005, the broadcasts from Hollywood Studios all but stopped.  I think radio still has a place in Hollywood studios, and not necessarily the kind of radio represented (very well, it must be said) by the Rock & Rollercoaster starring Aerosmith.  I’m talking classic radio, the kind that ruled broadcasting from the early 1920s until the mid-1950s.  The way I see it, a full-on pavilion, old Epcot style, would fill a need for this type of thing in the Studios - a facet and an era I feel they're really lacking. 

The problem with any radio is that it’s an audio-only medium, and the problem with old-time radio is that most modern people simply aren’t used to the type of focused listening that folks in radio’s boom years took for granted.  The trick to making a pavilion like this successful is to make this bygone era seem not only interesting but thrilling, an experience that rewards those interested in a layered, nuanced Disney experience … but that also provides excitement for casual theme-park goers.    

 The pavilion would be called The Golden Age of Radio, and be laid out a bit like the Wonders of Life Pavilion in Epcot.  It would feature four distinct sections:

 1. The Vox Pop Stop - Set up like a classic 1920s/1930s soda fountain offering quick-service comfort food like grilled cheese, burgers, sandwiches, and patty melts.  Their highlight would be the soda fountain beverages and milkshakes.  The cool thing here is that while it would LOOK like an old-fashioned soda fountain, it would feature the technology to "make your own soda" using Freestyle machines.  Each booth would come with a table-side jukebox, and would play music and commercials from the early days of radio. 

 2. The WDW Radio Playhouse - Here's the education part, where an audience watches cast members create a radio show, and invites audience members to come up and help make sound effects with them.  The show can be funny, spooky, soapy, or spooky, depending on where they take it that time.  After, the lights go dim and the audience hears their own newly-recorded show played back.  The whole experience takes about 25 minutes.

 3. See It With Your Ears! - An interactive area in which kids and adults use touchscreens to mix and match radio sounds.  Like the shark area in The Seas with Nemo and Friends, there are a few trivia games.  You're invited to hear a sound effect and try to guess which "thing" made it.  There's a smaller "One Man's Dream" type of museum dedicated to the history of radio, featuring actual radios, props, etc.  In this area is the Mickey Mouse Theater of the Air, a small theater that plays 20 episodes of the radio show of the same name.

 4. Lights Out! - the E-ticket attraction.  It's a coaster-type ride based on the momentum of Splash Mountain.  You get on board and it bustles past a series of scenes featuring AAs recording real, classic radio shows - the spooky ones.  There are several lift hills.  The on-board audio plays snippets of classic thriller shows like The Inner Sanctum, Suspense!, and Lights Out!, building momentum.  Soon, you come to what looks like a tunnel and you see a projection at the top: someone in a radio booth recording a particularly unsettling horror show involving a chase.  Then the image fades and you're left in pitch black.  The coaster takes off like in Rock N Rollercoaster, but remains ABSOLUTELY in the dark.  The radio show keeps playing, narrating the chase in the dark.  Off-board sound effects like in Space Mountain come out of nowhere, helping to disorient you.  At the end of the ride, you have survived.  The last words are: "And now a word from our sponsor."  And of course, the gift shop is called "A Word From Our Sponsor."

Radio has been an important part of Disney history, and it would be a shame to let this legacy go to waste.  As Hollywood Studios has done with the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror (referencing both the “reality” of Hollywood in the 1930s as well as the original television show broadcasts of the 1950s), the Sci-Fi Dine-In, and the 50s Prime Time Lounge, it can bring an idealized version of radio days to the present. 

Let’s hope Disney is listening.

Two Splashdowns at Blizzard Beach

By: Kevin  Quigley

It seemed odd that, after having been to Disney World seventeen times in five years, I hadn’t yet been to a Disney water park.  Of course, River Country was legendary, spoken of in those hushed tones normally reserved for Horizons and Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride and, like, Roanoke, Virginia, where a whole colony of settlers just disappeared in the 1580s.  Stories about River Country always followed the same beats: “It was the best thing that ever happened to Disney World,” people would murmur in dark rooms, behind giant mugs of Dole Whip, “a water park that didn’t feel like a water park.  It was part of the Fort Wilderness Resort and it just looked like this natural extension of it, not manmade at all.  The slides were amazing.  Bay Cove was amazing.  Everything about it was amazing, is the point.”  Then there’s a pause, after which the story concludes, “Now the area is used as a location shoot for horror movies.”  Then cackling and general unease.  Look for The River Country Chainsaw Massacre, coming to theatres next summer! 

            Still, I was intrigued by the current complement of Disney water parks, Typhoon Lagoon (opened in 1989) and Blizzard Beach, (which opened six years later in 1995).  Created during the Eisner years, both parks are rife with story and background.  Weirdly, both parks’ legends revolve around bizarre and potentially fatal weather conditions – Blizzard Beach having ostensibly been created during a freak Floridian blizzard, and Typhoon Lagoon was the result of a havoc-inducting typhoon.  I guess the standard attraction adage – “Everything’s nice and friendly until something goes terribly wrong” – works best at the front of the story when you’re creating an entire theme park. 

            My motto when going to Walt Disney World is to always try something new, so when my friend Kristen told me this past July that she was going to both water parks and then blog about the experience, I jumped at the chance to accompany her.  Unfortunately, due to timing, I could only join her and my other friends for one park or the other. It was never a real question as to which one I’d choose.  The water park with the ski lift always wins.  Blizzard Beach it was!

            In July, when the temperatures pushed past triple digits daily and every theme park was Animal Kingdom Hot, Blizzard Beach was crowded beyond reason.  Tour groups from tropical places were escaping their winter in our summer, roving the park in bands of twenty or thirty.  The median age of these groups was fourteen, too, and while I have nothing against teenagers in general, I was fourteen not too long ago (22 years, wow) and I remember a thing or two about pushing the boundaries of free expression when left unsupervised with my friends.  (Only having caught up to Disney in my late 20s, my experiences in this arena were left mainly to Star Trek conventions, because I’m a nerd of all trades.)  There was some issue securing the cabana (aka the “Polar Patio,” and OMG I LOVE DISNEY LINGO) our friend Lee had set up the day before, and as there were seven of us, getting the lockers all set up and our patio laid out took a little time.  Unfortunately, as anyone familiar with theme park touring knows, “a little time” in the morning equals “a lot of lines” later in the day. 

             I love water parks, but more than anything I hate those rickety-feeling scaffolding structures you have to climb up and look down and contemplate your fragility in an uncaring universe. To combat the absolute worst part of any waterpark, Disney does one of those things Disney does best: they built a mountain.  Mount Gushmore is the main feature of Blizzard Beach, and it’s home to most of the park’s best waterslides … which, in this context, are less waterslides and more mountain sluiceways.  It’s so simple – take away the bad parts of waterparks so people can focus on the good parts – but it’s brilliant.  Plus?  I may have mentioned this, but there’s a ski lift that takes you from high ground to low ground.  A ski lift!  How cool is that?  You get off the ski lift and you’re on solid ground.

            Of course, at the top of the mountain, you could always look up and see one of those tall, rickety-looking scaffolding structures and realize, oh wait, the top of the mountain isn’t the top of everything.  Way up there is a waterslide called Hey! You Want Your Shorts to Ride Up While Simultaneously Your Life Flashes Before Your Eyes and You Attempt To Remember Every Prayer Ever.  No, wait, it’s called Summit Plummet, and it’s 120 feet tall and you travel down it at roughly the same speeds as Test Track zooms around the loop.  In other words: it is one of the fastest attractions at Walt Disney World … and you’re doing it in your swimwear.  Did I cave into peer pressure?  Did I stand at the teetering top of the entire world and stare down at impending splatterdeath?  Did I realize that wearing glasses and Crocs on Summit Plummet was a very dumb idea because I was going to have to grasp everything in my terrified paws as I slammed, screaming, toward the ground?  (Hint: the answer is this was a mistake.)

            My rationale was that doing it once meant I never, ever, ever had to do it again.  Ever.  Seriously, never.  I still haven’t been to Typhoon Lagoon.  I’d like to avoid succumbing to waterslide-induced shock and paralysis before I can. 

            From there, we toured the park as best as we could, but those external factors – July, tour groups, getting a slightly late start – worked against us, even with a Touring Plan on our side.  Lines stretched over thirty minutes on some attractions, including a side-by-side competitive slide called Downhill Double Dipper.  The wait was made hilarious, then interminable, then back to hilarious by the prerecorded safety announcement that blasted off every twenty seconds, always announcing itself with the insidiously perky, “HEY Double Dippers!” 

            We finished off the day with two trips down … look, it’s called Teamboat Springs, but I only know that because I just looked it up.  I have no idea why this is a block in my brain.  “Tugboat Willie?”  No, Kevin.  “Steamboat Slopes?”  No, Kevin.  “Boatslip Harbor?”  Are you serious?

            Steamtrain Slipslide is amazing, probably the best ride in the park.  Six people fit in a circular raft, bringing to mind the structure of Grizzly River Rapids or Kali River Rapids.  Then it surges down the slide, taking turns at a suicidal pace, sloshing your entire raft up the sides before righting itself down the straightaway.  You can’t help but scream and laugh all the way down.  My buddy Joe, who had begged off most of the slides that day, took his tour with us and I was super happy to have him there.

            That last spin down Tourboat Circletron came back to me as I stood at the top of the slide in early October.  The differences between my July trip and this one were astonishing.  We arrived at park open and didn’t get a cabana this time – our time was limited, and we could only stay a couple hours – but the park was empty.  This time, my friends Paul and Marty were with me, and ecstatic.  So was I.  No tour groups, and the weather was so mild and pleasant I was initially afraid that it would be too cold for waterslides.  The second we climbed onto the Downhill Double Dipper (no wait!  at all!), we discovered this was indeed not the case.  The water at Blizzard Beach, I discovered, is heated to 80 degrees – refreshing on oppressively humid days like in July, but delightfully unchilly at the start of October. 

             We raced through the rides, studiously avoiding the Summit Plummet and its implied malice.  It’s kind of funny that the Slush Gusher, which is only thirty feet shorter and includes a couple bumps that give you actual airtime, seems much safer and less horrifying.  We got on mats for Snow Stormers and Toboggan Racers, where you slalom down the water-slopes on your belly.  In July, seven of us challenged each other down Toboggan Racers at once; now, that number had been reduced to five, but given the park’s emptiness, no one else was competing with us.  Which was good, because we loathe strangers and encroachment!  October for the win!

            We even got a chance to head to the back of the park, where Runoff Rapids is.  While it’s not a bad ride, Runoff Rapids is the closest to the standard waterslide experience.  You get in an inner tube and ride down one of four basic waterslides – two open, two covered.  They’re long slides, and have the appropriate number of twists and turns, but after the immersion in the innovation and theming at the front of the park, it just doesn’t compare.  We finished our day as we had last time, with a relaxing trip around Cross Country Creek, a slow-moving river that circumnavigates the whole park (we missed the wave pool, Meltaway Bay, once again; that’s why there’s always a next time).  After the thrills of the day – which may include a race down the terror machine known as Summit Plummet – you can’t ask for a better end to a day at Blizzard Beach.

            Well … wait.  Yes.  Because for whatever reason, Blizzard Beach sells mini doughnuts.  Why?  I don’t know why.  And don’t question perfection.  You can get a half-dozen … but seriously, why would you?  You can get a dozen mini doughnuts, and there are dipping sauces: raspberry, chocolate, and white chocolate.  In any other context, I’d choose the other two over raspberry, but not here.  It defies logic! 

            Walt Disney World, for me, has always been about four wildly different park experiences, a vast array of resort options, and a whole bunch of Downtown Disney (especially Earl of Sandwich, because seriously).  Now there’s also Blizzard Beach: a wet, welcome change from standard park touring, with vastly unique experiences and mini doughnuts with raspberry dipping sauce.  The possibilities never stop expanding.

(Pictures courteaously of Lee Dralle)

"For the Love of Food and Wine"

By: Kevin Quigley

My friends Brad and Kay raved about the Epcot International Food and Wine Festival on my first trip to Walt Disney World five years ago, in 2007.  I dismissed the idea out of hand.  I wasn’t a foodie – fancy eating back then meant making grilled cheese with something other than pre-sliced, pre-wrapped cheese “food” product – and wine just isn’t my thing.  Brad and Kay also tried to get me excited about Cirque du Soleil, and I was all, thanks but I’m good on the whole flying French clown thing. 

Five years later, I take umbrage at folks who dis Cirque du Soleil without seeing it, because you have no idea how awesome, seriously.  And while I wouldn’t exactly call myself a foodie, I did kind of learn how to cook because Ratatouille told me I could.  The Disney influence is strong in our house.  Like most of my early perceptions of what I would and wouldn’t like at Walt Disney World (I assumed I wouldn’t like Fantasmic! or the Country Bears Jamboree, which borders on lunacy), I was dead wrong about the Food and Wine Festival.  What I didn’t know was that you didn’t have to be a foodie to love it; all you had to be, really, was hungry.  This was one of those caveats I felt I could live with.  

To kick off autumn each year – usually between late September and early November – the Food and Wine Festival takes over World Showcase, serving up regional food in kiosks from around the world.  And not country regional, either, none of this just France or just Thailand; we’re talking food from Paris and Bangkok.  There’s also usually a unique selection from the USA, which serves as an exciting alternative to the Liberty Inn’s basic American fare, as well as a compelling argument for a broader menu there.  (Do we really need standard burgers and hot dogs in the most exciting culinary region of Walt Disney World?)

The very first thing I learned about Food and Wine was that, as with most undertakings at the World, it helps to devise a plan first.  I was taking on the Festival with my good buddy Joe, and, this being a first for both of us, we grabbed a table at Club Cool (and a couple of sample-size cups of Brazilian watermelon soda), spread out our Festival Map, and plotted our course.  We circled the kiosks that seemed most appealing, then initialed the ones we individually were most interested; we had foolishly made sit-down dining reservations that night, and we wanted to hit the highlights without filling up too much.  Something to know: during Food and Wine Fest, you never have to make dining reservations.  Nothing costs all that much and you get these individual sampler plates, and you think oh, I’m just snacking.  By the time you get to the Norway area of World Showcase and you’ve downed a cheese plate or seven and you’ve chomped down like six Xingjiang barbecue chicken sticks and washed it all down with what has to be the best mango lassi in the entire universe, suddenly the only thing you want at the Biergarten is the sweet, sweet sounds of the oompah band.  

The highlights of our first trip: chicken and coconut soup with mushrooms, lemongrass, and ginger in Bangkok, hitting all the right notes.  Thick, but not heavy; sweet, but not cloying.  In Paris, we fell in love with the head chef calling out the various orders.  Not only did she serve us milk chocolate crème brulee (only very rarely has a food been so delicious that it tested my very sanity), but she never just said “escargot”; it was always “Es-car-GOOOOO!”  Serving snails to tourists was her mission in life, and she made sure you knew it.  In Canada, Joe got the cheddar cheese soup and I got the chicken sausage … both delicious on their own, but when you combined them, they were divine.  

Joe and I had wandered by the Melbourne, Australia kiosk the night before and the smell of lamb wafted past us, enticing us, living in our carnivorous fever-dreams of eating.  Now, we attacked that lamb as if it had embezzled our 401(k)s.  It was as if I had never eaten lamb before, as if I wasn’t already stuffed with food up to my esophagus.  We devoured that lamb, and then went back for seconds.  The grilled lamb chop returned to Food and Wine in 2010, and happily, so did Joe and I.

Actually, quite a bit of our favorites were back the following year (especially the crème brulee au chocolate au lait, booyaw), but there was plenty new to keep us going round and round again.  We’d learned our lessons the year before and made Food and Wine our eating destination, not just a backdrop.  The first thing I noticed about Food & Wine this year was that the specificity of the locations had vanished; we were back to countries, not cities.  Actually, the first thing I noticed was the grilled pork skewer in Brazil.  The words I later used to describe it were, “It’s as if happiness had physical properties and was made edible!”  I’m a fan of hyperbole.

In 2010, we made it easier for ourselves and got wristband giftcards, because one of the smartest things you can do on a Disney vacation is set yourself an enforced spending limit.  Put only so much on a gift card and you literally can’t spend more.  Unless you add money to it.  Which I did.  Like three times.  I’m bad at enforced spending limits.

This year marks Joe’s and my third go-round at Food and Wine, and this time we’re bringing our friends Marty and Paul.  One of the most exciting things about any Disney vacation is introducing folks to something new, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to bring our two friends around for the very first time.  Some of our old friends are back, too – the Australian lamb, the French crème brulee, that chicken and soup from Canada – but I’m most interested in the new flavors.  Ropa vieja at the Carribbean kiosk.  The cheese plate in Ireland (a perfect choice for Marty, as obsessed with cheese as I am with Horizons).  The US selection this year is actually sort of exotic: Hawaiian pork sliders with pineapple chutney.  Why can’t the Liberty Inn serve those all the time?  

 Last time I went to Disney World, the Magic Kingdom was the place to be.  This time, we’re planning on making Epcot our home base.  I mean, of course there’s IllumiNations and Spaceship Earth and Soarin’ … but this trip is all about gustatory delight, and I’m planning on leaving full every night.  

Four Parks, One Day

 By: Kevin Quigley

We all have our Disney bucket lists.  I still haven’t done an Ultimate Touring Plan, in which you hit every attraction and event in a park in a single day.  Mike Scopa, blogger and podcast superstar, came up with what may be the nuttiest one awhile back: you travel to Disney World with only the clothes on your back, buying everything you need for a week’s vacation on a week’s vacation.  I’m planning on trying that out when I’m famous and rich and have a mid-sized entourage to wait in line for Soarin’ for me.

Smack in the middle of these bucket lists is the Four Parks In One Day Challenge.  I heard about this early in my Disney fascination, and it fired my brain up in a very specific way.  You see, I was at the stage of my Disney development in which I was doing everything commando, racing through the parks trying to take in everything at once.  What better way to do that than going to all the parks in a day.

I know what you’re thinking.  This is because I am psychic.  Anyone can go to all four parks at Disney World in one day!  There are monorails!  And buses!  Duh!

Ah, but there are rules to Four Parks, One Day.  As laid out by the first Disney podcast I ever listened to, the rules are as follows:

1. You have to do all four parks in the same “awake” day.  No hitting Magic Kingdom during Extra Magic Hours till like 3:00 AM, then waking up at 10 and doing the rest of the parks at a lackadaisical pace.  That’s just cheating!
2. At each park, you must ride at least 3 attractions: one headliner, one “major” ride, and one “minor” ride.  In Magic Kingdom terms, this would be like going on Space Mountain, Peter Pan, and Prince Charming’s Regal Carrousel. 
3. You have to have two meals on property during the day.  No bringing along breakfast bars and calling it a Disney meal.  That’s convenience, not Magic!
4. Seriously, have fun.  It sounds cheesy, but you really need to keep this last one in mind more.  Challenges like this are meant to get you to see Disney World in a different light, experience them in new ways.  If you go into a challenge like this with grim determination but without playfulness or whimsy, you’re just not going to have a good time.  And that’s what this is about!

I add to these rules a suggestion: bring a friend.  I’ve done the Four Parks, One Day (4P1D) Challenge with a buddy and solo, and I can assure you that my alone trip was quite lonely. Going to Disney World alone can be a blast.  I’ve done it and I’ve had a lot of fun doing it.  But on Challenge day, I had no one there to share in the triumphs, to boost me up during the low moments (waiting an hour and a half in line for Soarin’; it’s not the longest wait I’ve ever spent in Disney World, but it’s close), or to share my celebratory dinner at Pecos Bill’s.  The word you’re grasping for is sigh.

My buddy Joe (the guy who introduced me to Horizons years after it had been torn down and created this tortured soul you see before you) and I dragged ourselves out of air-conditioned slumber one late September Saturday and jaunted out to Animal Kingdom, which had yet to get Animal Kingdom hot.  That itself would be a good reason to start with this park, but the main reason is because it generally closes earlier than the other three, and you’d hate to be nearing the end of challenge day only to discover that your last park is shuttered up for the night, and all you can do is stand by the barren entrance, mewling and pawing gently at the gate.  It will be futile!  Not that I know from experience, or anything!

The plan was to do Everest, Dinosaur!, and the Kilimanjaro Safaris, but we all know what happens to plans (you add them to men and canals and somehow you get Panama; I never understood the more abstract maths).  We slammed over to Everest with the bustling crowd, screamed at the still-functioning Yeti, then screamed even more as a carnotaurus tried to attack us, then kindly feed us some McDonald’s food quickly before the sponsorship ran out.  Then, split-second decision time, we clambered aboard Triceratops Spin and took an early morning flight around Dinoland USA.  I’d never done Triceratops Spin before, and though it’s a minor ride in an oddly-themed area of Animal Kingdom (and also there’s the fact that triceratopses can’t fly, unlike elephants and carpets), I counted that as an accomplishment in itself.

An even bigger accomplishment: we were done with our three rides in Animal Kingdom at 9:45.  Nine forty-five!  We rejoiced and then piled into Joe’s air-conditioned car, because seriously, Animal Kingdom Parking Lot Hot. 

I promised Joe we’d slow down a little bit in Hollywood Studios, a promise I instantly broke when I saw that Tower of Terror only had a ten-minute wait.  There’s nothing like plunging thirteen stories at 10:15 AM!  Then there was Rock N Rollercoaster, a Disney portmanteau people delight in ruining if only to give me a complex.  (Why would you say Rock and Roll Rollercoaster, people?  It’s redundant and lacks whimsy!  Are you going to go use the Utility Corridors next?  Perhaps tour the Innovative Inventions in Epcot?)  Our sole bit of actual strategy for the day occasioned itself here, when we decided to take places in the single rider line separately in order to make things a little faster.  Wait a minute!  I loved that idea!  I know how Aerosmith feels about their fans.  To the Forum!  (I stunningly got the front row.  What?!)

Now, after a light snack at Starring Rolls (Joe: “Kevin, if we don’t get some form of sustenance, I will eat my hands.”), we headed to Star Tours 1.0, which had a history of making me sick.  I won’t go into how thoroughly history repeated itself.  I will say that there’s a new Star Tours in town and it’s oodles better … but that’s a post for another day.  We left the Studios at 11:00 AM, meaning we’d completed half our 4P1D Challenge in two hours.  What the hydrolator!?

We got to Epcot by 11:30, and by then, our bodies had begun registering pain and real hunger.  As swiftly as possible, we beelined for The Land, where I got FastPasses for Soarin’ and we collapsed into seats at Sunshine Seasons (which, by the way, is the best Quick Service eatery in all of Walt Disney World.  This may seem a controversial choice, but since it’s true I don’t really see how you can dispute me.) The break gave our bodies time to register pain and exhaustion, so the journey from lunch over to Test Track was a shambling, lurching affair.  We employed Single Rider again and through the power of Disney Magic (and a super-nice family who didn’t want to be separated), Joe and I got to sit next to each other.  In and out of Test Track in less than ten minutes, and the rule still applies: the shorter the wait for this particular attraction, the better it is.

After a slow-moving slow journey slowly through Spaceship Earth (seriously, how many times do they say it’s a slow ride in the preshow?), we utilized our FastPasses for Soarin’.  Our Chief Flight Attendant was Patrick!  He was nice!  And then we ended up over Disneyland, which seemed incongruous, since neither park that features Soarin’ is Disneyland.  Oh, Disney!

By the time we finally got to Magic Kingdom, we were all in.  And yet I somehow found the strength to run.  The second we were inside the gates, I grabbed Joe’s Annual Pass and bolted to Splash Mountain.  FastPasses in hand, I met Joe at Big Thunder and there was only a twenty-minute wait!  That in actuality only took thirty minutes!  Then a quick spin inside the Haunted Mansion – after which I vowed to return, and to bring my death certificate – and our Splash Mountain FastPasses were ready to use.  At the final crest, I shouted to Joe, “Number four and a thumbs up!” 

“What?”

“Four and a thumbs-up!”

This is what triumph looks like!

We didn’t eat our final meal as much as we fell into it: Cosmic Ray’s Café at Tomorrowland.  It was six o’clock on the dot when we finished our 4P1D challenge – we’d done the whole thing in a mere nine hours.

I looked up at Joe.  He looked at me.  We were both exhausted, bone-weary, and thinking only of getting back to Pop and air conditioning and sleep.  I said, “Next time, let’s make it four attractions in each park.”

How about you?  Ever done the Four Parks, One Day Challenge?  If so, I’d love to hear about it: travelogues, tips, and tricks.  I’ll need to come well-prepared for next time!

A World We've Yet To See

By Kevin Quigley

“Wait,” my friend Doug asked, baffled, “how is it possible that you love an attraction that you’ve never been on, or even seen in person, that much?” 

That will take some explaining.  You see, I had never even been aware of Horizons until 2008, on my third trip to Disney World.  My limited awareness of Disney parks until the previous year had something to do with that, but still, I should have known something.  Since growing obsessed with Disney, my studies had lead me in two basic directions: the Right Now, and the Long, Long Ago.  Basically, it was either the Disney World I knew when I visited it, or the Disneyland I had never seen, whose history was rich and deep and fascinating.  I was missing everything in the middle.

Cue my friend Joe, for whom Disney World history mirrors his own.  He was at the Magic Kingdom the year it opened.  Much of his boyhood was spent there, riding now-defunct attractions like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, the Skyway, and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.  He got to personally witness Disney World’s epic growth … including the birth of EPCOT Center.  

Now, by my third trip to Disney World, I’d pretty much made up my mind that Epcot was my favorite of the four parks (except on the days I was convinced that it was Hollywood Studios, or Animal Kingdom, or Magic Kingdom).  World Showcase was like the best social studies class ever, and with way better food.  Living with the Land was charming, unlike anything else in all of Walt Disney World.  Spaceship Earth had fired my imagination in ways I’m still struggling to define.  Beyond individual attractions, though, it was the feel of Epcot, the sense of possibility bursting out of everywhere.

And there was something else, too.  Walking with Joe around the park, I got a sense of immense history here, even more so than in Magic Kingdom – a sense of the past layered just under the present.  Don’t get me wrong; the Epcot of now is stunning, immersive, breathtakingly beautiful.  But the early days of Epcot are nothing short of mind-blowing.  The attractions!  How did they get away with the attractions?!  There was a history of cars?  There was a whole pavilion about energy?  Oh, and a somewhat newer one that apparently teaches us about the birds and the bees?  What the what?

I sensed some of this myself, just walking through the park, noticing some of the old attraction icons that still remained, catching glimpses of the Wonders of Life pavilion lurking in the background of things.  But the tipping point came one night on that third trip.  Exhausted from the day (and a bout of bronchitis I was powering through), I returned back to the room early with Joe, who immediately opened his laptop.  “You’ve heard of Horizons, right?”

The name sounded vaguely familiar.  “The pavilion that was there before Mission: Space?”

“It was way better than Mission: Space.”

“Yeah, but it was just like the Carousel of Progress, right?  Just a little, you know, futurey?”

“You should watch this.”

I leaned in close … and fell in love.  That’s the only way to describe it.  It wasn’t just one thing, it was everything: the hope and wonder in the preshow song - “if we can dream it, then we can do it, yes we can!”  The look at the future through the past – something that Tomorrowland had picked up on at Magic Kingdom.  The unseen couple having a conversation that narrated the ride without it feeling like narration, making the whole experience more intimate and less like learning.  The effects.  The unique ride system.  The choice of ending.  Its deep ties to the Carousel of Progress, and, by extension, the entire Disney history.  I watched that video and reveled in borrowed nostalgia.  Joe seemed pleased.

One of the main tenets of Disney park fandom is that half (maybe more) your love happens back home, in between visits.  When I returned to my real life, I went Horiz-insane.  Did you know there are roughly 18,000 websites about Horizons?  (This is an estimate.  I’ve personally found three.)  I bought old Epcot books from Ebay and studied the Horizons stuff.  I’ve seen blueprints.  

And, um.  Then this happened.

Then my buddy Joe also got a Horizons tattoo.  I am a trendsetter and have been featured in Tiger Beatmagazine, is why.  (Editor’s note: that did not happen.)  At least Joe has an excuse.  He had ridden Horizons when it existed, and not just a memory.  For me, Horizons will have never existed, coming into being during my lifetime, amazing people, and then disappearing before I caught up to it.  For me, Horizons will always be a dream I only want to be real.  

But then, wasn’t that always the point of Horizons, anyway?