71
It’s the sign that does it to me. Not the green-and-white highway signs that take us off the Turnpike and onto I-4, or the brown-and-white directional signs that twist and turn us along World Drive. All this time, Charlie, Gillian, and I have been relatively calm. Small talk in the car, hunting for stations on the radio, staring out the window for our first glimpse of the park. It’s just a typical trip to Disney World. But as the pink, purple, and blue sign rises in the distance… as the enormous blue letters arch across the eight lanes of perfectly paved road… as the stylized words “Magic Kingdom” come into focus and the car passes directly under them, all three of us crane our necks skyward and stay deadman silent. Gillian’s mouth gapes open. Charlie’s huff-and-puff breathing gets loud enough for me to notice. And the tightened excitement in my own chest feels like an elephant stepping on my heart.
I look back at Charlie just to make sure he’s okay. He puts on a smile I know is fake. I give him one right back. We did the exact same thing the first time we were here, when he was excited to puke on the Mad Hatter’s teacup ride, and I was scared of meeting Captain Hook. Sixteen years later, I’m tired of being scared.
We’re stalking Snow White. Watching the way she moves and who she talks to. I lean back against the wall. Gillian’s next to me, pretending to make chitchat. Charlie, more nervous than usual, flutters in and out around the crowd. But all we do is stare… study… make our mental notes. Naturally, Snow White has no idea we’re there – and as we stick to the shadows behind Cinderella’s Castle, neither do the autograph-seeking kids and photograph-snapping parents who currently surround her. Right now, the swarming crowd is six kids deep, which makes her hard to miss.
From the moment we entered the park, we were hunting for characters. Up Main Street, through the castle, and straight into Fantasyland. But it wasn’t until we heard the six-year-old shriek behind us – “Mom, look!” – that we spun around and saw the instacrowd. There she was at the center of the storm: Snow White, the fairest of them all. To the kids, she appeared out of nowhere. To us, well… that’s the whole point. If you want to find the employee tunnel, you have to start with the employees.
One by one, she lets each child have his moment. Some want a signature, others want photos, and the smallest ones simply want to hold her skirt and stare. Next to us, a mop-haired teenage boy is wearing a “Why do they call it Tourist Season, if we can’t shoot ’em?” black T-shirt. That’s Charlie when he was fifteen. Next to him, a brother and sister are in the middle of a vicious slap-fight. That’s us when we were ten. But as Snow White waves to all three of them, they can’t help but wave back. I clock it right from the start. Eight minutes after Snow White appears – just as the crowd hits critical mass – a college-aged kid with a Disney polo shirt arcs around to the back of the mob and gives the signal. Snow White looks up, but never falls out of character. That’s all she wrote. Stepping back and throwing goodbye kisses to the crowd, she makes it clear it’s time for her to go.
“Why’s she leaving?” a clearly displeased curly-haired girl asks.
“She’s late for her date with Prince Charming,” the college kid announces as pleasantly as possible.
“My ass,” Charlie whispers. “I hear they divorced years ago. She got everything but the mirror.”
Gillian slaps him on the arm. “Don’t say that abou-”
“Shhhh – this is it,” I tell them.
A few flashbulbs go off, a last-second autograph is signed, and one final photo is taken by a parent who begs, “Please, just one more… Katie, smile!” Then, like a movie star waving to her fans, Snow White recedes from the crowd, all of whom are still grumbling until…
“Winnie the Pooh!” a little boy shouts as everyone turns. Thirty feet away, the familiar red-shirted bear magically appears and gets enveloped by tiny hugs. I have to hand it to Disney – they certainly know how to throw a distraction. The crowd runs. We stay. And that’s when we see the old wooden door. Snow White and the college kid go straight for it – behind Cinderella’s Castle, to the left of the Cinderella fountain – just under the arches, it’s on the back corner of Tinker Bell’s treasure shop. The way it’s set off from the main path, it almost looks like a bathroom. But it doesn’t say “Men” or “Women.” It’s just blank. A blank old door that’s right in front of our faces. Perfectly designed to be overlooked.
The college kid takes a last-minute glance over his shoulder and checks for stragglers. All three of us look away. Convinced no one’s watching, he pulls open the door and escorts Snow White inside. Just like that, they’re gone.
“Open sesame,” Charlie says.
“You think that’s it?” Gillian asks.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” I ask, barreling forward.
“Wait!” Gillian calls out, grabbing me by the back of the shirt. “What’re you doing?”
“Getting some answers.”
“But if there’s a guard…”
“… then we’ll say ‘Oops, wrong door,’ and walk away.” I yank myself free and continue toward the door.
“Suddenly you’re worried about our safety?” Charlie asks her.
Gillian doesn’t answer. She’s locked on me. “Oliver, this isn’t something we should just rush into,” she adds as I step forward.
I’m not listening. I just drove three hours on the promise I’d get my life back. It’s all on the tapes. I’m not leaving here without them. I grab the door and check behind us. The crowd’s on Pooh. It’s now or never…
I pull open the door and turn to Charlie and Gillian. Both of them hesitate, but they also know there’s not much of an alternative. As soon as Gillian moves, Charlie follows. I’m not sure if he’s suspicious or just scared. Either way, all three of us slide inside.
Barely lit by a fluorescent light, the concrete landing is dark and empty. No one’s here – no guards and no sign of Snow White. I check the ceiling and walls. No videocameras either. It makes sense when you think about it – it’s Disney World, not Fort Knox.
“Check this out,” Charlie whispers, staring over the metal railing on our left.
I squeeze between him and Gillian to see it for myself: paved stairs that wind down four levels. The entrance to the underground.
“If I were six years old, you know what kinda bad dreams this would cause?” Charlie asks.
Without a word, I head down the stairs. It can’t be much further.
“Just take it slow,” Gillian warns as we spiral down into the depths.
At the bottom, we hit another door, but unlike the one up top, this one doesn’t match the medieval feel of Tinker Bell’s Treasures. It’s just a standard, industrial utility door. I open it and peek my head into a short corridor. On my right, perpendicular to us, dozens of people crisscross back and forth in an even bigger hallway. Bright costumes rush by in a flash. Echoed voices ricochet off the concrete. There’s the action. Time to jump in.
Slipping out of the stairwell, I march down our corridor and make a sharp left into the main hallway, where I nearly collide with a skinny girl in a Pinocchio costume, minus the Pinocchio head.
“Watch it,” she warns as I step on her oversized foam Pinocchio shoes.
“S-Sorry…” Catching my balance and cutting around her, I notice Snow White on her right – a different one, with brown hair pinned back, a black wig in her hand, and chewing gum in her mouth.
“Kristen, you doing the parade tonight?” Snow White asks, poorly masking a Chicago accent.
“No, I’m done,” Pinocchio answers.
I turn around as they pass, but quickly catch the eye of Charlie and Gillian, both of whom are staring me down.
Take it easy… please, Charlie glares, clearly unnerved.