The beginning

That's me in the center there with the haircut like a boy, being squashed beyond an enthusiastic mother, a sister (blocked) and a giant Goofy, who looks like he's about to eat my sister.

When I was six years old, my family moved to Nicaragua in search of a better life, fleeing the instability of the new Taiwanese government and endless threats of communist Chinese attack. That decision proved to be a bit of a mistake, as no more than a month passed after our arrival before the Sandinistas started shooting things. I don't remember much of that, bits and pieces about flashes and bangs and lying down on the floor when the fighting got close. But mostly I remember the mango grove behind our house and the giant iguanas that roamed around everywhere and the occasional scorpion that made all the adults freak out. 

My parents got us on the last commercial flight out of the country, apparently using some creative navigation to get through some overturned burning buses on our journey to the airport, landing in Miami with a few suitcases and $400 hidden in their shoes. That first night in a Miami hotel I can remember even with my shoddy memory, sitting there watching the news without understanding a word, while eating pork and beans warmed in a tub of hot water and bread toasted over our bedside lamp. Then there was a long, seemingly endless Greyhound journey north where I cried a lot because...well, apparently I just cried a lot in those days and was a pain in the neck. My parents didn't know how long we could stay in this country, but by golly now that we were here they were going to take their kids to Disney World before we were all deported. We got the cheapest tickets into the park, the ones with limited tickets to rides (remember E-tickets???), but it must have cost us $40 even back in 1979. My parents spent ten percent of everything they owned to give us those precious days. Even now, whenever I'm thinking evil thoughts about various perceived parental hurts inflicted on my childhood, I remind myself - Disney World. Remember what they did at Disney World. I think it might also be where I picked up that bit of carpe diem in my personality which is leading me to pursue this crazy dream today.

I remember only little bits of that trip. The wonder at Cinderella Castle. The crushing disappointment that Snow White, my favorite princess at the time, turned out to be not at all princess-looking but a bit old and freckly. It was a serious blow because we had spent all day hoping to find her at the park and until I saw her I had been convinced she was real. 

The world Walt Disney had created was real to me. I had seen the movies Fantasia and Snow White. I was convinced that the evil witch popping up repeatedly in the Snow White dark ride was out to kill me, and I kept my hands clamped firmly over my mouth so that she wouldn't slip me a piece of poison apple while I was looking at something else. My parents and sister tormented me about my fear of ghosts in the Haunted Mansion. We had ice cream cones and rode around in the first row of the horse-drawn carriage down Main Street.

This was America.

That's my mom in the corner, looking so stylish in her best suit and sunglasses.

It was the kind of America we dreamed about. Mei guo - "Beautiful Country" - with cute storefronts and clean streets and smiling people and endless possibilities. I was a kid, so I probably didn't have that kind of a dream. I probably dreamed about castle and princesses and endless rides and ice cream cones. But even then, I think the effect of being in America, in the most American of all places, really got into part of my psyche and stayed there.

After Disney World, there was Disneyland as my family moved to California and got settled and earned citizenship. And then more trips back to Orlando in my college and young adult years. And last year, my first trip to Disney Tokyo, where I binged on too many flavors of popcorn. But what always blows my mind is that first experience, the power that the Disney brand had over a family with almost no money from Taiwan, who thought it was worth it to spend ten percent of everything they owned to see Disney World. My parents. My conservative, fiscally responsible parents. Even back in 1979, the global force was already there. It hadn't yet grown up and expanded its theme parks into Asia and Europe, become the entertainment juggernaut it is today, yet the magic already had reach into all the corners of our small world. 

I want to be a part of that magic somehow. I've wanted to work for Disney for pretty much my entire adult life. When I was in college and a mechanical engineering student I poured all my energy into the ImagiNations competition, hoping to win a summer internship with the Imagineers. I won a t-shirt after four weeks of sweat and tears. As an independent consultant I've met people from Disney at business functions and conferences. But nothing ever came of those meetings, and I'm starting to fear that I will never find that Disney project of my dreams. So here goes: I'm making that project. My client is me and there's no project budget and the expectations are high, but so what. It's time to wish upon that star.

I don't remember this picture being taken. But it says "Cinderella Fountain," so I'm pretty sure this was taken in Orlando. But who is that giant rabbit??? He looks like something that a Disney knock-off in China might have created, or one of those creepy creatures that walk around at a Six Flags. If you have a clue about this, let me know.