Batman and Friends

I figured it out. Gotham City doesn't need Batman.

It just needs better cops!

As it is, Batman inspires criminals to dress like supervillains because... well, if he can do it, why can't they?

And that, my friends, is my thought of the day.

'Til next time,
-Philip

(This is, by far, my shortest post to date. Huzzah!)

Life Alert

"Oh, God. IS HE DEAD!?"

"Somebody call a medic!"

"Oh my God-- Honey! Honey, WAKE UP!"

"I don't know what happened! He just fell!"

These are the sounds that my co-workers and I were absorbing on the job as we tended to an unconscious man and his family minutes before a Disneyland parade. We stood in front of an ice cream stand, right between "It's a Small World" and "Storybook Land".

For the record, I've encountered this (a park guest fainting) too many times, both at Disneyland and Disney World. But if I recall, this was my first time experiencing it, sometime in the Fall of 2011.

What we do, or at least what we did in Fantasyland, was form a circle around the heat exhausted person so as to prevent onlookers from complicating the situation. Every now and then a park guest comes by and asks what happened. And you tell them, as sweetly as you can, that it's none of their business. And every now and then, someone will be curious enough to swiftly swerve their head right between our shoulders, just to make sure they don't miss this unusual event.

It's kind of like when the freeway's backed up because every one in front of you wants to see if anyone died in the three-car wreck on the side of the road. They desperately want to know. Because later, it becomes an anecdote, something you can talk about over dinner and end with "Man... to think I was going to leave the house ten minutes earlier... Martha, that could've been me!..."

Although if you love tragedies, you could just watch Shakespeare. Or CNN.

Back to the story. Fainted guy. Nervous family. Employees surrounding him. I've already called Disney's paramedics with somebody's cell (because you can't take out your own phone in costume, or you could get fired. So it goes). They asked the preliminary questions:

"Is 'said person' awake and conscious?"

"Yeah. He's awake."

"Is he breathing?"

"I think so... is he breathing? Yep, he's breathing."

"Alright. Thank you, we'll be right there with a stretcher."

And they arrived pretty fast.

We stood our ground, a perfect circle, only opening our wall to allow the paramedics in. A random lady approached us. She had the makings of your perfect family vacationer: Slightly above middle-aged, neon green visor, fanny pack, and of course, the muumuu waddle.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. We're dealing with a situation."

She looked between me and my co-worker, clearly seeing the fainted man and the paramedics surrounded by a grieving family. Then she looked effortlessly at me.

"Where am I supposed to get ice cream?"

She was referring to the ice cream stand right behind us, right next to the emergency, and she obviously didn't have the heart to realize that people outside of her consciousness existed.

I was dumbfounded. I've known sociopaths in my life, but I've never had anybody admit to being one so quickly. I already had a "Disney personality", so I wasn't prone to insulting people (cruel as they may be), especially on the job. I was a somewhat different person then. 22 years old, in love with the idea of working for The Walt Disney Company, indefinitely. But I realized then and there the line of work I was in-- tourism! And I realized that working in Fantasyland wasn't all that the higher-ups led me to believe. I realized that I was employed with a entry-level job, dealing with thousands upon thousands of people I'd probably never see again, and that I'd be pushed into circumstances like these where I have to endure an astonishing level of selfish idiocy.

"Miss, you can get ice cream just around the corner, past the merry-go-round."

"That's too far."

"Well then, you can go f*ck yourself."

For the record, I didn't say that last part, but could you blame me if I did? Of course, I wouldn't have felt good about it. I've never said anything like that at any job, but let me just say if you prioritize ice cream over a person... what can I say?

"It's really not that far" is what I ended up saying.

She stared at the fainted man, carelessly. Annoyed, she waddled away.

The guy lived... at least I think he did. We just continued clearing the way for Mickey Mouse and all of his floats.

Au revoir,
-Philip

The Writer Formerly Known as "Duckman"

I haven't contributed to this blog in too long. I've distracted myself with a drawing class, new stand-up, family, movies and HBO shows, a fling with a quirky girl and Kurt Vonnegut books.

I found an ab work out so effective, it deserves its own Goosebumps story.

I saw the same ducks I blogged about last time just days after I last blogged about them in the same spot I had first found them. I joined them again and followed them until they walked into the same yard they last walked into, only this time, they realized they were walking into a familiar place and came right back out.

Expect more blogs soon. In the meantime, I'm going to sit here and wonder whether or not Harrison Ford likes chocolate.

Peace and love and thought-provoking podcasts,
-Philip