A Disneyland memory that really pops

When I turned four, my parents took me to Disneyland to celebrate my birthday. I have vague recollections of my first visit, which didn’t go well. I’m guessing I was two or so at the time, and I was at that stage where Disneyland was scary, not fun. Luckily, by four I had grown up enough to enjoy all of the little kid rides and the electrical parade. I’m not sure if dad enjoyed any of this. I know as I got older dad and I were the ones that would go on the more challenging rides that mom refused to go on.

Anyways, it had been a long day at the amusement park and we were headed back to our hotel. There was a vendor holding a bunch of Mickey Mouse head balloons. Of course, I had to have one. All things considered, the balloons were not the most expensive souvenir, so my dad paid for it and off we went.

Photo: X-entertainment.com

We had just arrived back in the hotel room and dad quickly headed out to the balcony for a smoke. (Of course.) Mom retreated to the bathroom to change into her nightgown. And I was left to play with my balloon. What my three-year-old mind did not comprehend was that stucco ceilings and helium-filled balloons do not play well together.

I’m sure you can imagine what happened next. I let the balloon float to the ceiling, it met a very vocal death to a rough point of stucco, and I began crying at the top of my lungs. My parents thought there was an intruder and I had been shot. Dad rushed back into the room ready to play hero. Alas, there was not much he could do to repair the latex shreds of Mickey. I believe my dad offered to go get me another balloon but it was getting late by that point, and I think I’d had enough of balloons for the moment. We all had a good laugh at this memory over the years, and it’s the most clear memory I have of that trip to Disneyland.