My Attempt to Pull an All-Nighter for Disneyland's 60th Anniversary
A packed Main Street of Disneyland. (Photo: chris.alcoran/Flickr)
There are no fans on earth like Disney fans.
It was just before 4 a.m. and already tens of thousands of mouse-ear-wearing Disneyphiles stood anxiously at the greeting banner, waiting for the park to open. They came from Phoenix and Dallas, Chicago and Hawaii, some as far as the United Kingdom and beyond, to experience the 60th anniversary Diamond Jubilee of Disneyland.
And what a celebration they had planned: there was to be a new parade, based on a similar attraction in Disneyland Hong Kong, a dazzling reinvented fireworks display, and a much-anticipated “World of Color” show that would depict Winnie the Pooh bouncing off the Matterhorn and Mickey Mouse running beside Ariel from the Little Mermaid, and a gorgeous rendition of Frozen’s ‘Let It Go.” There was also a newly glammed-up Sleeping Beauty castle, retro Disney gear, and merchandise, merchandise, merchandise.
California Adventure, ready for the big celebration. (Photo: Kenny Porpora)
The potential chaos that was about to descend over Disneyland was oddly reminiscent of the park’s opening day, on July 17, 1955, where 28,000 equally rabid fans invaded, depleting resources and causing reports of gatecrashers and gas leaks, insufficient food and beverage resources. But the point was made: Disney fans have been passionate since opening day, with no signs of letting up.
And this was to be the epic 24-hour all-nighter to end them all. Mega-fans from all over the world began lining up well before sunrise to be first in line.
They were the smart ones. Me? Not so much.
I arrived in the late afternoon. My plan was simple: get inside, spend the next 12 hours experiencing everything the park has to offer, and leave around 4 a.m., sufficiently cracked out on cotton candy and trip up the Matterhorn.
But I am a fool. By 7 a.m. there were already three- to four-hour wait times for all rides, according to Disney workers.
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Behold the mighty mouse ears. (Photo: Emily Burnett/Flickr)
Starbucks?
An hour wait.
The Smoothie stand?
An hour wait.
I began feeling as if I was stuck in a Disney movie of my own, and just like every classic story, there were obstacles to prevent me from reaching the castle, the first of which was a man in a neon vest holding a red octagon with the word STOP on it. Just beyond him, the red blur of hundreds of braking taillights. I would be delayed on my journey.
The traffic getting into Disneyland. (Photo: Kenny Porpora)
I inched my way through two hours of traffic. It was only 3 p.m. and the parking lots were already full. Of course, they were. By 5 p.m., I had reached the parking garage, hopped on the jam-packed shuttle, headed east to the park, and stepped out of the shuttle. There, 80,000 crazed, tired, excited, joyous, frustrated, and exhausted Disney fanatics swarmed before me.
I began walking through the masses until a security guard in Goofy ears stopped me.
“You can’t go beyond this point!” he said.
“You must not let anyone define your limits because of where you come from,” I said to him. “Your only limit is your soul.”
He stared blankly at me.
“Gusteau?” I asked. “C’mon! That’s from Ratatouille!”
“The line begins over there,” he pointed, in the general direction of east, toward a line so outrageously long I couldn’t see the end of it. We’re talking the DMV-on-a-Friday-at-noon kind of line.
“How long to get into the park?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“Four hours.”
“Are you trying to destroy me?” I asked him.
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Intrepid Disney fans. (Photo: Kenny Porpora)
I began to despair. I’ll never get in. If that moppy redhead Merida from Brave were here, I know she’d say, “You control your destiny — you don’t need magic to do it. And there are no magical shortcuts to solving your problems.”
She was right. I didn’t need magic. I had a press pass instead and I was determined to not stand in line for four hours.
I approached another guard, flashed him my pass, but he was unimpressed.
“The line begins over there,” he said.
“But…”
It was hopeless. I was doomed to wait.
It took me six minutes to walk to the back of the line. I begrudgingly stood there, arms folded, madness all around me. One woman had been waiting since noon to get into the park; another left at 3:30 p.m. and was afraid she’d never see the inside again. The couple beside me came all the way from Denver with their two kids and still couldn’t get inside.
Cinderella, greeting a young fan. (Photo: Rain0975/Flickr)
I thought of Cinderella, and her corny yet timely advice: “No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true.” Perhaps she wasn’t referring to exorbitant wait times, but I was desperate for inspiration.
It was after 7 p.m. by the time I made it through the security line and retrieved my tickets, only to receive the most disheartening news of all: Disneyland had reached capacity at 3 p.m.
“Say that again?” I asked the very polite woman behind the glass.
“Yes, Disneyland is closed. We’ve reached capacity. California Adventure is still open,” she said with a smile.
It was over. Four hours of waiting. And yet, even at my darkest moment, I was a little impressed. In a mere matter of hours, these rabid Disneyolytes managed to shut down an entire theme park. I started to wonder what it was all for.
I had been to Burning Man and had seen the fanatics; I had even seen One Direction in concert where little girls camp out for tickets. But I had never seen fans like this, who consistently and loyally love Disneyland so much, who are willing to cross oceans and book hotel rooms, and rent cars, and wake up in the pale sky hours before dawn to wait in line for hours just to be a part of history.
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After hours. (Photo: Kenny Porpora)
What’s so special about this place that tens of thousands would wait hours upon hours just to be a part of it?
I walked to the back of yet another monstrosity of line.
“How long have you been waiting?” I asked the woman beside me.
“Since two,” she said.
Almost six hours.
She told me she’s done Disney all-nighters before. Comes in every time from Dallas with her kids, dresses up, spends hours in line, loves every second of it.
I was really reaching my limit. I needed me some Mary Poppins: “In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun and — snap! — the job’s a game!”
I figured she must’ve been talking about playing CandyCrush on your iPhone while waiting in line, and so I did, trying to entertain myself while not draining my battery.
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The iconic Mickey Mouse Ferris wheel. (Photo: Ann Johansson/Corbis)
By 10 p.m., I finally made it into California Adventure, the park packed with marathoners who had survived the day, some defectors from Disneyland, others, mere mortals who accepted it as a consolation prize. The sign on the marquee of the old-timey theater said, “The Diamond Celebration.” The lines were still as impossible and gridlocked as they were 12 hours earlier.
The wait time for California Screamin’: three hours. I promptly got it line.
The crowds. (Photo: Kenny Porpora)
I was hungry, tired, worn-out, and I hadn’t even ridden my first ride. It would be 1 a.m. before I did so. In the distance, the Mickey Mouse Ferris wheel was lit in reds and purple and orange and blue, and his cheerful, iconic face was reflected in the water just beneath. Electronic house music thumped through a nearby mini-mosh pit where kids head-banged and danced. In front of me, kids with boundless energy talked about what they wanted to ride next while their defeated parents shared glances of helplessness, with small smirks of fondness.
At 1:12 a.m., I got to the end of the line of California Screamin’, which took me swooping and whooshing and yelling beside strangers, swirling through a cool California evening, the entirety of Disneyland in front of us, below us.
And that’s when it clicked. That’s why they come, I realized.
Now, somewhere mid-air, I remembered the magic of being a little kid. And there, way up high, I could see the castle. I made it, and it only took me 10 hours. We sharply dropped and spiraled left and I couldn’t help but smile.
Fireworks over the castle. (Photo: London Ent/Splash News/Corbis)
At 2:30 in the morning, the announcement was made: Disneyland had re-opened. It was a miracle. Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother was right. Turns out, Disney has saying for just about every moment of your life, and as I finally entered the gates of Disneyland. I thought of hers:
“Even miracles take a little time,” she said.
“Yes,” I thought to myself. “More than a little.”
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