Disgruntled in Disneyland

One of the occupational hazards of being a senior in college is that you have to suffer not only your own identity crisis about entering the real world, but you have to suffer those of your friends’ as well. So I must deal with good friends, each dealing with their crisis in their own special way.

One believes that taking the route of a pathological liar is the way to go. This one is now at a stage where she exaggerates absolutely everything to make her life sound ten times more fabulous than mine. I want to punch her, but I can’t. I just smile, nod and punctuate our conversations with “No Way!,” “That’s Awesome!,” and “Oh! I’m so jealous!”

Then there is Agent Esmee whom I have to console on a daily basis telling her, no, she will not need to become a consultant, a financial analyst or a park ranger. Esmee’s case isn’t bad because she is easily calmed with hot chocolate and writing harassing emails to our best-friend-on-alternating-days, Paul Davidson.

I thought I had this consoling business down to an art, but then, last week, out of guilt for another one of my identity crisis riddled friends I agreed to take an extra ticket of hers to go to… wait for it… Disneyland.

Let me tell you, when you’ve just flown from New York to Los Angeles, stayed up till 4 AM writing a final paper only to wake up at 6 AM, the “Happiest Place on Earth” is NOT that happy.

Now this friend I went with is really great, but the importance she placed on this trip to Disneyland was a bit overwhelming. She insisted we get there before the park even opened and originally wanted to stay until the fireworks. This idea made me want to cry a little bit, but not as much as my friend did when I told her I had to leave by 4 (Lucky for me, I had dinner plans with my family). Her face looked as though I killed an entire litter of puppies. She accepted this, but she was so heartbroken. Ten hours at Disneyland wasn’t enough to appease her! The insanity!

When you’re little, Disneyland is all fun and games, sure, but I was not thinking pleasant thoughts when Goofy targeted us and starting hugging me as I was coming out of the “It’s a Small World” ride for the second time. In fact I was thinking very violent thoughts and delighted at the mental image of Goofy’s arms and legs being detached and in a pile on the ground. But I held back and smiled, because that is what you do with friends who are having identity crisis’s and that’s what you do when you’re with Goofy.
-Coco