"Ralph Steadman's Disneyland"
As, yes...wonderful Orange County. Having grown up in LA, I, too, am familiar with the infamous Orange Curtain. In fact, I have my very own security "record" at Disneyland.A friend was caught rolling one in the back seat of a Chevy Suburban. How was he caught? The multitude of security cameras they have there did him in. He hadn't even actually rolled the thing, when the goons came thundering in. They escorted him to what was (then) called (I swear) "SecurityLand" where they prodded him for personal information, which he provided. The problem was that his name happens to be a very common name given when one wishes to conceal their true identity. Of course, the dolts refused to believe he was who he said he was and tucked him away by himself in a room where, stoned, all he had to look at was a two-way mirror and a picture of Mickey Mouse in a policeman's uniform.
Meanwhile, the rest of our party was summoned into the grounds where we were to escort our miscreant crony out. Thing was, they expected us to *pay* to get in. Fortunately, we were armed with a series of comp passes, but they still made us use them.
Upon our arrival, I approached the security desk and told them "I'm here to bail out XXX XXXXX. What's his bail, An E-Ticket?" As I uttered the final words, they informed me that I was not welcome either and should remove myself immediately, lest they inform the Anaheim Police. Considering that Disney controls Anaheim, I beat a hasty retreat fearing *real* incarceration and days of picking litter off of the edges of State College Boulevard. Believe me, it *does* happen.
Incident #2: A few years later I returned to Disneyland and paid my admission and was, in fact, allowed entry to the park. I got about fifteen feet before they stopped me.
This time, the problem, they said, was that I had "an unnatural hair color" (twas Fire Engine Red, mind you...). Of course, I took great umbrage with this...at least I thought I was angry until they told me I had to leave sans refund. Again, complaints flew, but little could be done. Suffice it to say, though, that I have never returned to any Disney park anywhere.
>>>Bravo! I thought all those books I read on old Walt bordered on paranoia. Bravo, wonderful story.
Thanks very much...Maybe I should have padded it out a little more. I did, for space saving purposes, omit a few details...Including, but not limited to...
When my friend was escorted away, it was actually by one security officer who forced him to sit in the fold out seat in the cargo area of a station wagon. He asked to sit in the front seat, or at least in a forward facing seat, but the officer kept bleating "I've got a family to think about, pal."
Also, in our party was a 17 year old girl, who came straight to Los Angeles from Italy, and was armed with very little knowledge of much of anything about our land, and certainly no knowledge at all of the weird combination of intoxicants and talking mice clad in shorts.
During the trek to Anaheim, there was loud chatter, louder music and a perpetual wrap being passed around. Now, I must inform you that when a passenger in a vehicle on a long trip, I tend to zone out and think my own weird thoughts (sometimes while driving, but that's a different story). But I kept hearing a faint, accented voice from somewhere behind me saying "These cookies are good!" I knew in our assortment of goodies, there were no cookies, but I made it my business to mind my own business until I came to the cold realization that this naive Italian girl had found her way into a large batch of loaded brownies.
Sadly enough for all involved, she had eaten most of the tray. Twas sad for us as we had been long looking forward to snacking on them throughout the day, but twas sadder for her as she had never used that form of intoxicant before (she had opted out on the wrap passed) and, by general consensus, she had consumed better than a 1/4 ounce. Things were bound to turn weird at any moment.
Amazingly, her demeanor was okay during the first security siege, but when we got into the park to spring our security bound friend, *that's* when it took a turn for the ugly.
You see, *we* hadn't done anything against regulations, so they allowed us whatever time we wanted in the park, just so long as our last visit was to SecurityLand on the way out. Of course, the longer our stay, the longer our friend had to deal with the twin evils of staring at his own visage or Mickey Mouse blowing a police whistle, extending a gloved paw signaling "Stop."
We chose to make our visit brief, stopping only at a Carnation "Shake Shack" for some kind of thick orange beverage they featured. Sounds reasonable enough, right? Just a few happy-go-lucky kids enjoying a soda, watching a parade? Sure, right up until you factor in the stoned, shaken and wild-eyed Italian girl.
The Main Street parade was more than she could handle.
As the parade passed by, she seemed to fall into a tighter bundle, nervously looking in all directions, stunned by the simple vision of a passing horde of upright walking, talking animals. Then, in one final flurry, she tossed her drink into the air, and ran, blathering incoherently, out of the restaurant.
She was quickly corralled by another female in our party and dragged into a bathroom, where they stayed for a good fifteen minutes. Finally they emerged, the Italian girl still somewhat leery of her surroundings, but in a more reasonable state.
As she was walked out of the park, and I made my silent journey to the offices of SecurityLand, I quietly thanked the Gods of Disneyland for not including walking, fast-multiplying brooms in the parade. For a unstable, intoxicated visitor from Italy, it may have been one of her last moments in that weird form of reality.
