Evil life is getting in the way.
So some short thoughts about the 19th BD of DCA.
As someone who was an involved spectator in WestCot, Port Disney, Anaheim winning over Long Beach, and then the change from WestCot to what was delivered in DCA.
My first chance to visit DCA was in November 2000, in an escorted tour, and just seeing facades. Then a couple of full (well, almost all things) days in December. And I think 4 times in January 2001, I think it was $25 for a preview ticket.
I was there opening day, a disappointing day for CM's and execs, as the expected crowds didn't show up. (Excuse me, how many preview tickets did they sell to AP's, and how much bad word of mouth came from those guests...)
All the spin, and all the major adjustments to pricing, especially AP prices, and free kids tickets, and the few lame fixes they tried.
The Burbank and TDA folks were told the park is just fine, had no issues. It was the fact the public didn't get it, and folks like Al Lutz, Jim Hill, MousePlanet and others were the cause of the lack of attendance. (I didn't include myself, as all I was doing then was photography and providing info to other writers). I can't count how many TDA CM's and even outside vendors sought me out to spend time with me to walk around the park, to show me all the wonderful things they built. One outside vendor was discussing the GRR lift hill, at that time, no covering at all. He points to the large support post for the top of the lift hill, showing me the bases and trying to say how wonderfully themed they were. I took a LOT to hold my tongue, and not laugh out loud. What a bunch of BS. I wanted to scream, heyt, how about all that stuff above our heads?!?!?!
So I was there for the conception, all the time in the Womb, arriving at the hospital before the actual birth, then became a nanny, trying to make the child the best I could, even if the parents didn't listen, believing their child was the best, even comparing it to the older child standing right next to the baby.
Finally, after a few years, that baby became such a handful, getting to those terrible tot years, that the parents finally said, well, maybe our child isn't perfect. And then all the people just laughed out loud. And said, why did you take so long.
Music Series, X Games Experiences and other total failures also joined the original ones.
And then to see the child actually blossom. Still the ugly child compared to the older child. One big difference, The older child had Walt as its Father. The new kid had a different father, but no one knew if the true father was Michael or Paul. Mom never took a DNA test.
When a Step-Dad named Bob came into the picture, well, that kid was sent to military school for a major changeover.
I stayed a Nanny until the teen years, where I took a step back, but still watched DCA grow and change.
And recently, I became part of the family, yes, the crazy Uncle now, still mainly looking, but at least asked for some input, but as a late teen, well, that child doesn't want to listen, instead distracted with new shiny things, things that might look pretty for a bit, but things that won't last long.
I truly hope for the best, and that DCA grows and matures into a better person. Yes, never will be better than the older sibling, but one who hopefully looks at the past, and tries to use that as a guide to improve.
It has been one Heck of a ride, and it looks like my seat belt is stuck closed, so staying on the ride for more.
But with any child, there are always good things, and bad things. And when the original Dad bought that Superstar Limo outfit, sorry, that picture will haunt them for the rest of their life. But then, every time I see that photo, I break out laughing, and say, how bad/ugly that thing was.
So Happy Birthday, and realize that Shiny isn't always Quality. And when you date, look beyond the beauty, and check out the mind also!
Hey, spent more time on this than I expected.
But I look at my personal actions in my photos/reporting/writing, and the best way to sum it up.
Tough Love. And that is something we all need.