The sweetest, strangest place on earth

Words by Maeve Hopper

There’s something in the air at Disney World Florida. I’m not sure what, nor can I scientifically prove it, however, I am certain that with every inhale, the sickly sweet oxygen is carrying you higher and higher towards the top of Cinderella’s castle.

The air is clean and light, and subtly so. In the same way you can’t describe why filtered water tastes better — inarguably, it just does — Disney World succeeds in transporting you to a happier realm. At first, you barely notice as it seeps into your bloodstream, energising you for the third hour of a queue for a five-minute ride. You don’t realise that suddenly the days are brighter, people are cheerier, and your home has become the land far far away.

I genuinely believe there is wonder and merit to this experience. I travelled with my family in January and will assuredly inform you that I did have a good time. I breathed it in deeply and frequently. I maintain that there is something special in reconnecting with my younger self that adored Princess Belle, that modelled herself after Wendy in Peter Pan, and cried to Monsters Inc. We went on rides, ate the Mickey Pretzel, and even wore themed outfits that reflected our shared love for the Star Wars series (yes, there were lightsabers involved).

However, on day two, I developed a slight headache from this special Disney World air. Perhaps it was the shuttle bus that drove us from our hotel doorstep to the Park that was crowded even at 7:30am. Perhaps it was the wristband that tracks your location and sends specific photos of you on the ride to your phone without you ‘checking in’ or scanning. Regardless, I became slightly nauseous around the same time I witnessed my second marriage proposal in the same amount of days.

I noticed this queasiness in particular after spending some time in the merchandise stores. Set up in each Park — for there are many within the larger Disney World — were faux streets that house clothing stores themed exclusively to Disney. Each strip was decidedly Hollywood, western, galactic, or ‘whatever their most recent franchise is’-themed. It was as if you had entered an alternate reality, one that shifted themes at a rate fast enough to give you whiplash. Speakers would begin to play Southern Country music that signified that Hollywood was now South, and if you moved North you would enter the Wild West — but if that wasn’t where you wanted to go, you could always head East and visit rural France to find provincial town life.

Inside the stores on these streets was not merely your typical Disney World merch. While they did sell shirts, sweatshirts, hats, and ears dedicated to classic characters, there was also an abundance of merchandise that was distinctly ‘designer’. Disney x Gucci, Disney x Kate Spade, Disney x Swarovski. Think Cinderella signature handbags, 12-piece Pixar dining sets, matching Pirate outfits for both you and your pets, and Mickey bedspreads. Never was there an empty store nor empty cash register. Customers paraded down the main drag wearing head-to- toe merch, their wardrobe a badge of honour signifying their commitment to the corporation. I heard envious congratulations between visitors who commended others for their rare Mickey ears and grew quickly tired of the children screaming because they couldn’t buy a Pixar plush toy.

The normalisation of this excessive consumption sobered me from the sweetened air. I struggled to rationalise that on top of plane tickets, accommodation, entry tickets, queue jumping passes, food, and drink, visitors were expected and aggressively encouraged to consume so much at such significant prices.

I realised that entry into the Magical

Kingdom had a significant price. However, this is largely hypocritical as I too purchased a Disney t-shirt. So did my brother, my mother, and my father. Although, now breathing Sydney air once again, I can recognise that I won’t wear it nearly as much as I thought I would.

One thing on which I can make fewer concessions is the discomfiting awareness of the outside world’s continuation. Despite its magical escapism, remnants of reality remained powerfully present. I acutely recall one morning in my Space-themed hotel room: the beds were space pods, and the windows did not show outside scenes, instead reflecting a screen projecting the solar system. The hotel TV, reliably, broadcasted local Florida news. I awoke to news of a mass shooting in the city, where a man had died. There was another mass shooting a day later. I imagined the park might be closed, or open for restricted hours. This was not the case. The air was sweeter, the day even brighter, and the queues just as long. I saw a man in a ‘Trump 2024’ shirt pushing his young son in a stroller.

I cannot ethically justify the existence of corporate greed. But nor can I wholly criticise Disney or Disney World’s existence. The place offers employment, creativity, and escapism. It structures and directs thousands of lives. Disney and Disney World are so conducive to obsession and enthusiasm that fosters a culture that, while often problematic, is also strangely inviting. I can liken it only to travelling to space. An amazing, fun, and exciting adventure that takes you thousands of kilometres from home, but can really only be enjoyed in small doses, and only if one knows they are to return to the solid ground soon.