The Disney Proposition

Last week, Disneyland offered me the chance to be a lifeguard.

I turned them down.

Let me start over. Walt Disney Parks and Resorts responded to my job application, in which I applied to work either at an attraction or as a lifeguard. The e-mail read: "Congratulations! We want you to be a lifeguard and stuff!"

(I'm paraphrasing, don't quote me on that)

The catch is that it would be employment through another Disney college program. It's a temp job-- eight months this time. I've already done a four month program in Anaheim and another in Florida.

I've also had some of my best and worst days in both programs, respectively. It's like a drug, with its extreme ups and downs: Good friends, beautiful women, poverty, unforgettable atmospheres in firework-lit evenings, $7 an hour, drinks, days off spent in bizarre worlds brought to life with furry Disney characters that are clearly sweating on the inside, extremely crowded environments, solitude, and apartments that are clearly not up to code.

You meet people of all ages, mostly college aged, and the majority of them are nothing short of wonderful. And when it comes to park guests, you meet adventurous people, kind people, blissfully ignorant people from every corner of the globe who are antsy to see everything from the best angle in the shortest amount of time before heading back to their mundane grind. It's like a full-time job that doubles as an extended vacation from reality. I was out of the loop when it came to world news in both four month programs.

When you're there, you don't feel like yourself. At least, I didn't. I felt like I was living a different life, through someone else's eyes. I was obviously still me, but knowing that it was temporary made every day feel somewhat sacred. Even standing outside, waiting for the rain to subside so we can open up Storybook Land again was surprisingly beautiful, and I don't know why. It's just one of those things where your life always has a different tone, and the tone when I started working in Disneyland was just nice. It felt "colorful", if that helps.

But that spark is gone for me. The other times I applied, I was so excited to see new things, I put a lot of the logistics aside. Now that I know what to expect... let's just say I'm tired of moving strollers.

I was also a different person then. More nervous, less ambitious. Marc Maron once said something along the lines of "If you go somewhere, you're still taking you with you" (again, don't quote me on that). But I totally agree. When I went to Anaheim and Florida, I freaked out about everything. I thought I lost my phone on the first day in Anaheim, I freaked out about getting placed in the best apartment in Florida. Most importantly, I felt way too powerless both times since your program can be finished abruptly at any given time if one of your affiliates does something foolish. I once heard of an entire room that was fired because one of their parents cooked with wine in their non-alcoholic apartment.

While I contemplated clicking the "I accept" button yesterday, a surge of dread ran through me. "What are you expecting?" I thought. "You really think this will get you closer to where you're going to go?"

"Well", said the rational part of my brain, "I wouldn't mind working at the Disney studios. Maybe this will be my foot in the door."

And it's possible. But based on my experience and personal testimonials, very unlikely. Optimistic as I am, I'm also a realist.

I was good at what I did there. I took a lot of pride in it. I met people that-- if I was in a better state of mind-- would have given more time and affection to. But deep down, I knew I would say no to the offer this time around. I knew that because what fascinated me most was the idea of it all. And that's too vague.

You know what's not vague? Two vultures wearing bear costumes to a Halloween party so they can steal pumpkin pie from the mini fridge. That's specific.