Diary of a Disneyworld Mickey

July 17, 2006

It’s that time of year again, when moms and dads across the country yank their kids out of summer camps and swimming pools and migrate south to that Mecca of kids-at-heart and rodent fans everywhere, Walt Disney World in sunny Orlando, Florida.

“I got your ‘Fantasyland’ right here, grandma!”

But not all visitors to the Land of Hokey Rides and Nine Dollar Soda Pops is guaranteed a good time. Just as the families flock in, like swallows cruising to Capistrano, so too return the college kids and recent grads, looking for summer jobs in the Magical World of ‘At Least It’s Not Epcot’. Some of those kid-loving go-getters — future homeroom teachers and assistant principals, no doubt — earn the honor and the burden of wearing the Disney mascot costumes. Behold these plucky young souls, trading their summer fun for six-hour shifts, their luaus for lunch breaks, and their skimpy bikinis for full-body felt suits and a fake animal head reeking of week-old corn dogs and someone else’s scalp sweat. What would it be like to get a glimpse into their thoughts and impressions as they wander the park, in search of children to delight?

It might be something like this…

Friday, June 30th

Dear Diary —

I’m so excited! Can you believe they actually picked me to be the next Mickey? OMG!!!

Sure, I’ll be sad to leave the other girls at the Space Mountain ‘Happy Vertigo’ Infirmary, but what an opportunity! Now I’ll get to see children’s happy, smiling faces all over the park — not just the queasy ones who stumbled off the ride. So many dizzy kids!

Anyway, I start tomorrow, and I’m sooooooooo excited. This is going to be better than the time Tommy Kaplan had us cheerleaders over to his house and his parents were totally not there. Putting on that big Mickey head tomorrow will be even more intoxicating that Tommy’s mom’s Kahlua! I bet I don’t sleep a wink tonight! Kisses!

Saturday, July 1st

Dear Diary —

Wow, what an exhausting day!

You wouldn’t think a mouse suit could be so heavy — but boy, you’d be wrong!! I must have sweat a whole five pounds off in that suit today; guess that cotton candy won’t go right to my thighs after all! LOL!

And how rewarding was it, seeing all those kids out there? Like, very. It’s too bad the really little ones cry sometimes. They told me to expect that, but I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it; it just tears your heart out! And I don’t blame the older ones for kicking at my big mouse shoes — they’re just scared, is all. I’m sure we’ll be sharing Mickey-sized hugs by the weekend!

I wish they could do something about Mickey’s head, though. It smells a litle like moldy cheese inside, and… something else. Like rotten eggs, but more ‘gamey’. Or sweatsocks, only muskier. Whatever it was, it made me a little light-headed (HAH!), but I’m sure I’ll get used to it. Maybe I can hang an air freshener from one of Mickey’s ears! ROFL! Yay Disney World!

Sunday, July 2nd

Dear Diary —

Two days in the mouse suit, and I’m exhausted. An hour out in this heat, and all I wanted was an ice bath and a cigarette. But the Mickey show must go on, I guess. That’s what they showed me in my contract during the lunch break, anyway.

The kids didn’t seem to mind the heat — they were everywhere today. I’m still waiting for the kicking to stop, but at least it beats the ear pulling, hehehe. I guess I’m like a big old teddy bear for them to play with. I just hope I don’t get the stuffing knocked out of me!

It’s only seven pm, but I’m hitting the sack. Tomorrow’s another day in the ‘felt fortress’, and I’m even too tired to eat dinner. Maybe if these meal vouchers were good for something other than hot dogs and onion rings. I’ve never eaten so much ketchup in my life! But don’t worry about me, diary; I’ll hang in there. For the kids’ sake.

Monday, July 3rd

Dear Diary —

Ouch. I made a trip to the park infirmary today — a ten-year-old kid took a swing at me and hit me right in the stomach. What kind of kid would punch Mickey Mouse? Has the whole world gone crazy? And where were the kid’s parents? Probably stuffing their fat faces with waffle cones and Pinocchio pizzas. Sooooo hungry.

I was able to get back out on the pavilion in the afternoon, but after my ordeal, I was a little gun-shy. Whenever a kid came over to hug me, I cringed and backed away. I even accidentally smacked one little girl — shut up; it was a reflex!! — but I passed it off as a muscle spasm. I felt really bad, but the parents said they wouldn’t sue, and the kid is fine, anyway. There was barely any swelling at all, and she can still see out of that eye. She’d look a lot worse if that ten-year-old had gotten hold of her.

Tuesday, July 4th

Dear Diary —

So. Many. Children.

Honestly, diary, I’ve never seen so many kids in one place before. And while I’m used to the abuse now — it helps if you just retreat into yourself and go numb — couldn’t they at least stop during the firework show? That’s thirty minutes you’re supposed to be looking at the skies, not half an hour of ‘stomp on Mickey’s feet’, for Pete’s sake. It’s the fourth of fricking July! ‘Wonder and magic’ — soak it up, you little retards, and leave me the hell alone.

I’m starting to wonder whether I could sneak one of those ‘beer hats’ into the costume. I bet I could fit a bottle of vodka under each mouse ear, and enjoy a nice slow drip all day long. Boy, that’d pass the time.

Wednesday, July 5th

Dear Diary —

Back to the infirmary again. Some little brat bowled me over backwards into the drink at the Toontown Fair. I would’ve been fine, but I’m not allowed to take off any part of the costume in public, so I had to mouse-paddle around and look cheerful until somebody came to fish me out. You ever tried to ‘look cheerful’ with two leg cramps and thirty pounds of soggy felt weighing you down? It’s no fricking picnic, diary, let me tell you.

While I was getting checked out, I asked the nurse if she knew what happened to the last Mickey actor. Apparently, a couple of sugar-crazed kids rushed him with popsicle sticks over by It’s a Small World, After All. I’d been wondering what those jagged slits in the bottom of the suit were. The nurse says he’ll be up and walking around in a few days — but they’re pretty sure he’ll never be able to have kids again. Lucky bastard.

Thursday, July 6th

Dear Diary —

The little shits almost got me today. A bunch of kids left a cute little ‘huggy’ girl as bait in Tomorrowland, and jumped on me when nobody was looking. They almost had the Mickey head ripped off of me before I could get my gloves on one to fight back. I ear-butted the biggest kid to get away, and retreated to Frontierland for a victory smoke in the bathroom. All the women who came in giggled when they saw the mouse feet under the stall door, but I don’t care. They can suck my big black plastic nose. Breeders.

When I left the bathroom, I stuffed a couple of bars of soap into each big glove. Let’s see if those wannabe head-stalking pipsqueaks come back for more now. Do I look like Goofy, bitches? This is one mouse who’s not going down without a rumble.

Friday, July 7th

Dear Diary —

Free at last, free at last!

I finally couldn’t take any more in the Mickey prison, and started Mouse-mooning little old ladies in the park. I got your ‘Fantasyland’ right here, grandma!

The Disney people spun it as a new ‘dance’, and settled the crowd down pretty quickly. Then they shuffled me out of the suit and over to Animal Kingdom, where they’ve got me shovelling gorilla droppings in the safari area. Eh, it’s still a job — and it still smells better than that nasty Mickey head. These monkeys can fling all the poo they want; I’m in heaven now! Let someone else be the Mickey punching bag for a while. Color me B-I-T-T-E-R M-O-U-S-E.