Our Kingdom of Dust (4 page)
The walk from The Beach Club to EPCOT Center was fairly pleasant. I still remembered the route, and walked casually through the exit past the gift store, hung a right, and hung another right to end up on a trail that bordered what seemed to be swampland. There was a slight drop-off next to the sidewalk, into dense foliage that smelled vaguely of sulfur. I could hear things scurrying around down there, and saw some little lizards running across the path into the brush. Ah, Florida!
The trail dumped out onto a wide pathway facing Crescent Lake. Ahead of me was The BoardWalk, on the right was The Swan and Dolphin, and on the left I spied The Eiffel Tower, not anywhere near scale, sticking out of the France pavilion in EPCOT Center.
I bolted left to what’s known as the International Gateway, which was sort of the back entrance to EPCOT Center. I reached the ticket booth in no time flat. I didn’t notice the signage and logos that clearly stated this place was now called Epcot, not EPCOT Center.
“One Annual Pass, please,” I said to the old lady in the booth.
“Would you like the regular Annual Pass, or the Premium Annual Pass?” she asked.
“Beats me. What’s the price difference?”
“Well now, that depends,” she said. “Are you a Florida resident?”
“Not yet!”
“Okay, then. A regular will be four hundred and fifty two dollars.”
“Christ, almighty.”
“And the Premium is an additional one hundred and twenty dollars, which gives you unlimited access to our virtual theme park, DisneyQuest, as well as unlimited access to our amazing water parks, Typhoon Lagoon and Blizzard Beach.”
“Okay, sure, fine. I don’t know what most of that stuff is, but whatever. Sold.” I paused as memories of going down water slides that winded through fake sculpted rocks near Bay Lake entered my mind. “Wait. You only mentioned two water parks. What happened to River Country?”
“River Country has been closed for ages, sir.”
“That sucks. I liked that place. My parents and I used to go there a lot.”
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy the other water parks just as much. They’re very well themed!”
I handed her my credit card and after a few minutes she handed me back a silver piece of plastic.
“The gate is on your left. Enjoy your year of magic!” she exclaimed.
I walked toward the gate, straight through the bag inspection area, which seemed a bit out of place at “The Happiest Place on Earth”, chose the turnstile on the far left, slid my card in the slot, and pushed at the turnstile. It didn’t move.
“Sir, you have to scan your finger,” explained the gate attendant.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“Your finger. You have to put it on this pad. It’ll scan your finger so that you will be linked to that Annual Pass.”
I stared at it. Interesting technology. Biometric scanner. Didn’t actually store the fingerprint, just the spacing between the tip of the finger and the first joint. I put my pass through, put my finger on the scanner, the turnstile clicked, and I walked through.
“Have a magical day!” the gate attendant chimed.
“Uh huh,” I replied. Between the fucking bag check and the biometric scanner it didn’t seem like a very “magical” way to start your day. They didn’t have any of that shit when I’d been there last. A foreboding feeling passed over me. What else had changed since my last visit?
I literally ran past the United Kingdom and Canada pavilions. So far everything looked the same… until I hit the rose-filled path that linked Future World and World Showcase, which offered me my first unfettered glimpse at the main icon of EPCOT Center: Spaceship Earth. A massive triumph of architecture, it’s an eighteen-story geodesic sphere, the only one in existence. The scale of the structure is massive and awe-inspiring… under normal circumstances. Except now, when I looked at it I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
There was a huge wand stuck onto the side of the globe.
Mickey’s hand was holding the wand, and there were little red stars everywhere. “Epcot” was written above it in an ugly, decidedly non-futuristic font. It completely diminished the magnitude and majesty of the structure, demeaning it and reducing it to a placeholder for a prop, essentially saying “Mickey’s hand is way bigger than this insignificant building. Mickey is master of all.”
Something was very wrong here.
That foreboding feeling I’d felt at the gate became exponentially worse. I ran east to Horizons faster than I could remember running since I was a kid. Just past the breezeway between the Stargate Restaurant (now called Electric Umbrella – WTF did that mean?) and the Centorium gift shop (now called Mouse Gear – which, while clever, had no futuristic connotations whatsoever) was the first clear view of my favorite pavilion.
Except it wasn’t there.
Horizons was simply no longer there.
I knew EPCOT Center like the back of my hand. I could navigate the park blindfolded. There was no doubt that this was where Horizons should be. I continued walking towards it. I looked to the left: Wonders of Life and Universe of Energy were there, as expected. I looked to the right. What the fuck was that? It looked vaguely like World of Motion, except there were awnings all over it, and a car zoomed around a track that wrapped around the previously elegant building.
Turning forward, it finally hit me. Horizons had been demolished. And in its place was some monstrosity called Mission: SPACE.
The ride that my parents and I loved so much was gone.
For a moment, the pain of their death hit me all over again. That pain I’d stashed away and hidden deep. My throat tightened and I choked back bile.
I’d counted on Horizons being there! I’d needed it to be there, so I could ride it over and over again, comforting me and somehow finally easing me through the death of my parents. But instead, something I’d loved so much as a child, one of the few things we’d treasured together as a family, had been inexplicably destroyed. Not only had it been destroyed, but its elegance and beauty had been defiled by this atrocious thing jutting up from the ground like some evil cancerous growth. It was like someone had built a McDonald’s on top of my parents’ graves.
What else had been ruined here? What else had been defiled in the park I’d been counting on to be my sanctuary, my healing place?
I ran to the north. Universe of Energy still looked good. But what did the sign say? “Ellen’s Energy Adventure”? As in, Ellen DeGeneres? Holy fuck. Turning around, I noticed the Wonders of Life pavilion was lifeless. I ran up the winding ramp, and was greeted with automatic doors that would not open. This was a nightmare. Down, past the repulsive Mission: SPACE, I reached World of Motion. But it was now called Test Track, and it looked like NASCAR had thrown up on it. Shit. More running, to The Odyssey, a futuristic looking building that housed a nice counter-service restaurant. The doors were locked, the lights were off. I was seriously panicking at this point. It was like an episode of
The Twilight Zone
. I stumbled to CommuniCore, but the dazzling reflecting ponds I’d remembered along the way were filled in with concrete and I got momentarily disoriented. I entered a dark building, something called Innoventions, and scrambled through a bleak maze, trying to find an exit. Then I realized I was walking through what used to be CommuniCore, Sam’s favorite part of the park. Except now it was all dark and claustrophobic, and there was no sign of SMRT-1 anywhere. I started hyperventilating, and doubled over. A Cast Member came up to me.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“How do I get out of here?” I nearly cried. “Journey into Imagination?”
He pointed to a blacked-out automatic sliding door. “That way.”
I bolted through the doors, which slid open, revealing a blinding light and the Fountain of Nations. I stopped for a minute, watching the fountain show. There was an ugly wooden stage erected all around it that ruined its elegantly sculpted foundation, but at least the fountain itself was still there, shooting water into the sky in sync with music. But then I turned to the right and saw that fucking wand on Spaceship Earth, and it freaked me out. I didn’t even want to look at it, much less ride it. I started running again, towards Imagination.
It was still there. The Imagination pavilion looked just about the same. Sure, the bottom half had a gaudy paint job, but at least it was still standing. I walked inside, expecting the vast open airy expanse I remembered, and instead was greeted with a cheap ass plywood queue. There was literally nobody in the line, so I shot straight through the queue and hopped on the vehicle. It moved into a darkened tunnel and Eric Idle popped up.
What the hell was Monty Python doing in EPCOT Center? Where was Dreamfinder, the jolly bearded host of the ride?
Well, at least Figment, the little purple dragon who was essentially EPCOT Center’s mascot, was there. But he was being a dick, not nice and loveable like he used to be. The ride continued on, a shell of its former self. Figment farted on the audience at one point and I swear I wanted to punch somebody.
“What the hell did you do with Dreamfinder?” I asked a Cast Member as I got off the ride.
“Dreamfinder retired years ago, after the first refurbishment of the ride!”
“Refurbishment? This was appallingly bad! How is it a refurbishment if you make it worse than it was before?”
“Many Guests have expressed their unhappiness with the ride, sir. I’d highly recommend that if you want Dreamfinder to return you fill out a complaint at Guest Services.”
“Goddamned right I will. Thanks for the tip.”
“No problem, sir. Have a magical day!”
“That’s not going to happen. Is Image Works still upstairs?”
“No sir, it’s been closed since…”
I cut him off. “Since the refurbishment? Fucking hell!”
“They did move some of the exhibits into the gift shop, right through these doors.”
With two fingers he pointed towards the exit, which dumped me straight into hell. It was packed with kids, and was loud and uncomfortably cramped. Nothing like the expansive second floor Image Works. I got the hell out of there as fast as I could.
I felt beaten down. Nothing I’d loved about EPCOT Center was there anymore. It’d all been demolished or bastardized somehow. A wrinkled guidebook skittered along the ground, being dragged around by the wind. I caught it, picked it up and looked at the front. “Epcot”, it said. Not “EPCOT Center”. Not even “EPCOT”. Nope, just “Epcot”. That didn’t even make sense. It wasn’t supposed to be a proper noun, it was an acronym. What the fuck is an “Epcot”? Obviously the people in charge of this place didn’t have any concept of what the park was supposed to be, or why it was built in the first place.
“They’ve ruined my favorite place on earth,” I thought as I slumped down on a bench. Maybe it was best that my parents hadn’t lived to see this. A tear fell down my face, and that turned into a sob, and that became one of those heaving bawling things where snot bubbles out of your nose and your mouth is all contorted and shit. People were walking by staring at me, but I couldn’t help it.
I couldn’t stop crying.
I was crying because my parents were dead, and because Horizons was destroyed, and because I’d always assumed like an arrogant kid that everything and everyone would be around forever.
If I’d known I’d never get to see my parents again, of course I would’ve spent more time with them, showed them more respect, told them I loved them more often….
Anyway, great, fine, I got it: Don’t take the people and things you love for granted. Thanks for shoving important life-lessons down my throat, shitty lower-case “Epcot”.
After what might have been an hour of crying, I composed myself, wiped the snot and tears from my face, stood up, and started walking again. The sun had set, and I had to admit that the park looked gorgeous. The crystalline Imagination building was lit a vibrant purple, and the fountain in front was glowing orange, and just then the monorail silently glided past, and it was all quite enchanting and very much like I’d remembered it. In keeping with my newly minted “don’t take shit for granted” outlook on life, I decided that even if the rides were fucked up and stuff was flat out gone, there were at least some things here I could still enjoy. I walked slowly towards The Land, taking in the atmosphere. The music piped in from hidden speakers was the same loop they’d always played, themes I must have somehow subconsciously stowed away, because I found myself humming along with every track.
Walking into The Land I was blasted with a mouth-watering smell unique to food courts: spices and ingredients from all sorts of different cuisines mixed together into one whomping blast of olfactory goodness. I remembered I hadn’t eaten since my post-hangover breakfast that morning and was hungry as all fuck as a result. Thank God they obviously hadn’t torn out the kick ass food court on the first floor. My eyes were bigger than my stomach as I walked through the various food stations. I grabbed a ham panini, a bowl of Japanese noodles and tofu, a Caesar salad, and a Heineken.
Sitting down, I started stuffing my face, barely pausing to breath. I nearly got through all the food, too, with only bits of the noodles and some bread from the panini left over. I washed it down with a final gulp of beer and started looking around.