Distilling Disney

[Cadaverous Pallor]

Why Disney Will Never Be Cool

I once told a coworker about my Disneyland fandom, using the word “geek” quite often to describe myself. She looked at me funny and said, “But Disney isn’t geeky, it’s mainstream. Disney is cool.” This got me thinking about what constitutes “cool” and “geeky” and how (if?) they intersect.

The term “cool” has been in use for a long time and the meaning has morphed quite a bit, but it’s still rather close to its roots. The coolest kid in school was the one that didn’t care. You couldn’t affect him, couldn’t bug him. He was above everything, and it was his nonchalance that everyone coveted. In the original sense, being “cool” meant being “cold” to the world around you.

“Geek”, on the other hand, has odd roots in the carnival business. It didn’t come into its own until “computer geek” came along, and that was after “computer nerd” had run its course. “Geek” is now a comfortable, well-used word. It’s usually used for a person that collects, that memorizes. One that knows too much about one finite subject, usually to the exclusion of everything else.

To many, a geek is socially inept and doesn’t have a significant other. In an ironic twist, this is due to the geek not caring about the social world around them – an almost “cool” personality trait. Sounds like a contradiction in terms. The difference is that the cool kid cares about nothing, while the geek cares a whole lot about something – an extremely specific something.

Back to Disney.

To some degree a Disney fan mirrors a geek. They choose something in the Disney lexicon (animation, music, theme parks, one specific theme park, or even one specific ride!) and learn all they can about it. They may spend countless hours pouring over books and discussing the trickier aspects of their chosen niche. This may be to the exclusion of any social interaction. But that’s only half the story.

The question is, why Disney, as opposed to planets or microchips or American history?

A visitor to Disneyland isn’t there just ride rides that put excitable forces on the body, like any carnival park. They’re there to see, to hear. They want to enjoy the perfectly manicured gardens on Storybook. They want to hear pleasant music floating through Main Street. They want to be in places that don’t exist – that never existed – and simply be there, for a moment in time.

There are plenty of people that tell themselves that they go to Disneyland for their children’s sake. They want to see their kid squeal when they meet the real Mickey Mouse. They want to see the confusion on their child’s face when they exit the eternal bayou twilight of Pirates of the Caribbean into the bright sunshine of Southern California. They pretend it’s all for the kids, simply because they know how all of it works.

Even if they’ll never admit it in the company of others, they’re there for their own fantasy-come-true. Dad takes Junior on Space Mountain and for just a minute, in the dark where no one can see, Dad lets himself see that these really are stars all around him. He really is rocketing through space itself. Mom looks at the Storybook houses and just for a moment ponders the little people that live inside. And then there’s that moment during the fireworks when Mom and Dad lean against each other with contented smiles.

It’s escapism. An escapism every bit as compelling as alcohol or hallucinogenics. Chemically induced happiness is all in your own head, but Disneyland is an actual place, filled with real people, all of whom are friendly. It’s clean and kind and there are magical things happening everywhere you look. Good triumphs and evil is delegated to its proper place. Did you ever dream of a real castle, of talking animals, of picturesque mountains, of serene waterways, of a pixie that flies around and sprinkles fairy dust with a tap of her wand? Disneyland is everything you’ve ever wanted – and each new innovation is another piece of the magical puzzle falling into place.

The only problem is that being affected by all this - smiling at strangers, waving at the Monorail, singing along, tearing up a little during fireworks - simply isn’t cool.

The entire experience is meant to affect you. And if you’re dead set against letting anyone beyond your cool exterior, you can’t allow yourself to have fun at Disneyland.

But there is another level to Disney geekdom that can be discovered once one realizes what the true appeal of Disney is. It’s not just the fascination with knowing a lot about a specific topic, like those listed above. Once you’ve allowed yourself to truly have fun at Disneyland – to let go of any concepts you have of being above “kid’s stuff” – you’re becoming a part of a grand game of make-believe. This game encompasses everyone, from the street sweepers to the hidden office workers, from Anaheim to Florida to Paris and beyond.

Being a Disney geek doesn’t just mean knowing how the Mansion ghosts were created, or what year Splash Mountain opened. It also means that even though you know exactly how everything works, you still believe in the magic. And this is the ultimate coolness taboo.

It’s as if there’s a tacit agreement between Disney fans, Cast Members, and Imagineers:

There aren’t any talking animals, or magic lamps, or flying elephants. There aren’t any towns where the streets are always clean, the flowerbeds are immaculate, and the people are all friendly. Therefore, we have to create this world ourselves, as best we can.

The more we believe in it, the more real it is.