We just got back from two weeks in California. Beautiful state. Colder than you think.
We spent two days in Disneyland. It really is the happiest place on earth. Just ask my three-year-old. Of course, he can’t read, so he was spared the momentary fear that comes from scanning the small sign posted on the park’s outer gate. It reads, no joke:
“The Disneyland Resort contains chemicals known to the state of California to cause cancer and birth defects or other reproductive harm.”
So there you have it.
Disneyland may cause cancer.
That must be confusing news for the many terminal kids who elect to visit the theme park, courtesy of the admirable Make-A-Wish Foundation. It’s a bit like Somalian refugees fleeing rape, hunger and violence and moving to Sierra Leone. (By the way, there is no adult equivalent for the Make-A-Wish Foundation: I went courtesy of the “Pay -For-Your-Own-Damn-Wish Foundation.”)
I do not know how Disney threatens us and our unborn children.
Maybe supercalifragilisticexpialidocious is another name for asbestos. Maybe Sleeping Beauty is really in a late-stage coma. Maybe the forest animals lied when they told Bambi it was a hunter who killed his mother.
It turns out, the signs are the result of an overly cautious state law that requires them to be erected in public places that contain toxic building materials, even though normal exposure to said materials isn’t anywhere close to dangerous. That’s reassuring. Visitors to California can go back to being afraid of road rage.
However, even if Wallyworld is a toxic playground, it’s one I would go to again. Yes, the Dumbo ride may give you something malignant, but remember that your next best option is Knott’s Berry Farm. That’s a theme park… on a farm.
No thanks. I’ll risk shaking hands with Mickey Metastasis and his dog Plutonium.
I’ll ride Platelets of the Caribbean. I will eat Disneyland food (even the ten-dollar Franken-meat turkey leg).
During our two days at Disney, I noticed a complete absence of bald or kerchiefed kids. They weren’t even in Tomorrowland, which is what every cancer patient is seeking, really.
Maybe they read the little sign, wised up and made their last wish a visit to the Mayo Clinic. When the clinic’s attractions work, it really is the happiest place on earth.
I would ride Chemo Mountain twice!