The Weather

Overheard in the Disneyland Bathrooms

In my imagined future I live in the Disneyland Hotel in the same manner in which Lindsay Lohan inhabits the Chateau Marmont. I would emerge from its front doors a genuine hot mess every morning, my Minnie ears cocked and frayed, my eyes shining and salty, my lips stained with the dreamkisses of princesses. Alas my wallet won’t allow such a fantastical decadence. But, after years of planning and scheming I’ve found a next-best solution—I’ve successfully mapped out the sewer system so that, while I can’t live in the hotel, I can spend a lot of time in the Disneyland bathrooms. So now I am finally able to fulfill my wanderlust and follow the fairy dust all the way to the can, where I often overhear some true spoken treasures.

Location: Main Street USA

When you gotta go, you gotta go, but what if you’re not sure how to go? What if it’s the most exciting bathroom you’ve ever been in? What if immediately after your ticket is scanned you spot Minnie ready to greet you and the happiness is too much to bare? What if Minnie excites you so much that she scrambles your hard-fought knowledge of how to go potty?

Such was the situation on a recent Sunday.

Overheard:

GIRL: Does Minnie Mouse pee on the potty?

MOM: Yes, go pee now.

GIRL: Does she take off her costume?

MOM: Yes, go pee now.

GIRL: So that she doesn’t get pee on her costume?

MOM: Yes, go pee now.

GIRL: Does she take her head off?

MOM: Why won’t you pee?

GIRL: I don’t know.

MOM: If you don’t pee, we can’t ride rides.

GIRL: What does Minnie do with her head when she pees?

I wish I could’ve told you, young lady, that Minnie takes off her head just like the rest of us. I’ve seen her do it many a time.

Location: Tomorrowland

Like a sparrow nesting in the poppy-scented nape of Lady Snow White you can’t help but sing a sweet tune from the time you enter those gates to the time Tinker Bell says, “Buster, you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.” On one special occasion while disguised in a man suit my ears happened upon a middle-aged voice heavy with the affliction of song.

Overheard: 

A man was pooing while singing “Heffalumps and Woozles.” Were his exacerbated sighs the result of physical strain or an expression of disappointment in himself for failing to remember the lyrics? I’m not certain. My man suit makes it difficult to hear, but I wear it nonetheless so that I may feel at home in every bathroom, in every land. But what is certain is the man was a lingerer, a true lingerer, much, I speculate, to the chagrin of his family somewhere beyond the lavatory walls, wondering if he would ever return to them.

Yes, Disneyland is a place of unexplained events and magical disappearances into another, more primal, more magical world. We don’t often think that in Disneyland we escape to our fantasies by crawling down the toilet. But isn’t there a Disney song about how great it is to be different? I think there is. In any case, however, it’s time for me to flush now. I have to go. Good morrow, my friends.

Together with her adventure buddy Matt Marblo, Riles traverses the country, from Shake Shack to Shake Shack and Red Mill to Red Mill, in search of love, puns, and french fries.