MY WIFE, OUR TWO CHILDREN and I, all dressed in standard issue tourist clothing, are at Epcot Center, surrounded by cheerful and informative displays having something to do with The Wonderful World of Communication. As a family unit, however, we are communicating about on the level of Koko the talking ape. I’ve had it up to here with chasing my seven year-old son all over the fake-futuristic landscape. My four-year-old daughter is indignant because I will not buy her the guy who walks around dressed up as Goffy, or anything else she happens to lay eyes upon. And my wife, who has meticulously planned the trip using Stephen Birnbaum’s guidebook—which lays out the complete strategy for mastering Disney World, including the correct times of day to stand in line at various unforgettable attractions—does not feel I have taken her efforts seriously enough.
So there the two of us stand, our noses six inches apart, fighting in the AT&T Pavilion, while the kids run off to God knows where. I’m arguing that we should all just get loose and wander around. She is arguing that you can’t do Disney World that way. You’ve got to have goals, a timetable, a whole strategic plan. You need drive, focus, willpower. This is not a vacation, she seems to be saying; it’s a job.
By 8 o’clock at night, we’re both exhausted. We have to catch the picturesque monorail back to the picturesque hotel, but it’s a long walk to the station, and neither one of us is exactly sure where it is. I’ve been lugging around a cutely decorated bag full of—I don’t know, Mickey’s Whoopie Cushions-for hours, and I just want to go to bed. But we’ve got work to do, more happiness to achieve, great vistas of pleasure to stand in line for. We’ve got to make sure we get our money’s worth for our all-day passes.
I can hardly wait.
Now, I’m not suggesting that a father should not sometimes allow himself to be walked upon (metaphorically speaking) in order to acquaint his children with the world’s pleasures. I’m not suggesting that a family vacation at Disney World (or Six Flags Over Texas, or Dollywood, or Sea World,or Carburetor World, or wherever) is a complete waste of money. What I am suggesting is that, if this is the only sort of vacation you ever allow yourself, you will probably wind up committing suicide before you normally would have.