Leo's Adventures in Disneyland, 2019 Edition

The Monsters, Inc ride is a perennial fave.
[image: Leo in front of a "We're Monsters, Inc."
poster featuring four monsters posing jovially.]

It's been eight years since Leo's first successful trip to Disneyland, when we discovered that, for him, the Land of Mouse really is The Happiest Place on Earth. We now try to make annual pilgrimages, because Leo deserves to be happy and when we can make that happen, we do.

Here's how the latest trip went, and how we made it happen—because unfortunately, visiting Disneyland is also expensive AF. Note: this go 'round it was just me and Leo. Seymour and Iz were in New Zealand (Iz is doing a college semester abroad*) and J and Leo have some competing access things going on just now. J drove down with us, but spent the night at a local friend's and went to the park with them separately. We did meet up with J and crew once to check in.

One of the most pricey parts of Disneyland is the tickets. Leo wants to see both parks, not just one, as he has has a two-park circuit that we follow for optimal joy. That means $$$ for a park-hopper pass. Luckily, we live in California, and our regional center has a program called Community Involvement (CI) that provides discounted Disneyland tickets. If you live in California and you or your child are regional center clients, ask about this! (We were lucky; our social worker told us about the tickets, but just because yours hasn't doesn't meant it's not an option. Ask!) The CI dates available are limited and subject to blackouts, but the savings are significant—and allow provide discounts for a limited number of accompanying family members.

More routine/joy: we stayed at the Grand Californian Hotel. This is important, because being a hotel guest means access to a "Magic Hour" for hotel and other select pass holders, before the parks open to the general public, and during which lines are extra not-crowded. However this meant we had to pay for the hotel room. For this, I am beyond grateful to Leo's grandparents and other family members who understand how much going to Disneyland means to Leo, and gave him cash for his birthday and Christmas that we were able to use for the hotel room—because otherwise and even during "low season," room prices at this place verge on imaginary. (Though the same Magic Hour benefits hold for guests of the Disneyland Hotel and Paradise Pier hotels, which are slightly less astronomically priced, Leo's routine for as long as he's been going has been the Grand Californian.)

[image: Selfie of me and Leo in a hotel hot tub.]

Staying at the hotel meant using the hot tub and pool the night before. This is important. Because we always use the hot tub and pool when we go to Disneyland, and Routine is Life. We both like pools and hot tubs.

We have most things Disney figured out. The one unpredictable factor is lining up to enter the park in the morning. We need to be there relatively early because if we have to wait in a long line at Town Hall to get Leo set up for Disability Access Service, then that cuts into his Magic Hour relaxing rides time. However, if we end up being surrounded by kids who are crying or whining (which is an act of the goddesses and no one's fault), that is distressing to Leo and we can't stay in line.

As always, we gave the park entry waiting line a solid try. And after a few minutes, we were surrounded by crying kids. I tried not to panic, and asked the people standing behind us if they would hold our spot, which they kindly did. I then took Leo around the side of the entry kiosks to talk to a gate agent, and told them about our pickle. Much to my relief, they were able to help us out. We might not need this accommodation next time, but it is good to know that the staff will make those kinds of accommodations if requested.

FU Straw Ban
[image: Leo waiting to ride Star Tours, looking hip with
3D glasses, nonchalant attitude, and mouth-held straw.]

We were the first people in line at the Disneyland Town Hall, and Leo's Disability Access Service (DAS) pass—which is tied to the entrance ticket you bring everywhere with you—was activted forthwith. So many exhalations.

The current version of the pass (there have been several iterations over the past few years) meets Leo's needs beautifully. If you've not used the DAS before: it makes it possible for people like Leo who have a hard time waiting in lines to have the shortest line experience possible. This doesn't mean jumping lines, though; you get assigned a "return time" for the FastPass or disabled access line entrances that is roughly equivalent to the ride's current standby (regular folks, non-FastPass) waiting) time. This means that if the wait time for Pirates of the Caribbean is 45 minutes, you get to spend those 45 minutes doing something that is not waiting in line, like going to the Tiki Room—and then you can come back to the FastPass entrance any time after your DAS-appointed return time.

(Apparently you can also use the DAS in conjunction with the regular FastPass service, but that is more planning and executive function juggling than my head had space for, and we were perfectly happy using the DAS alone.)

[image: Photo of a MedAlert safety bracelet
clipped onto Leo's pants' belt loop.]

A final logistics note: As Leo has, on occasion, followed his enthusiasm more quickly than I could keep up with him, I wanted to ensure he had a visible form of ID with my phone number and his MedicAlert info on it (even though, as I learned, The Mouse has eyes everywhere and escaped kids get returned to parents surprisingly quickly). We used Safety Tats for a while, but they aren't that obvious, especially during cold weather which means long sleeves, and they also don't have enough information for some of Leo's medical considerations. Leo is also not a fan of safety bracelets or other medical ID tags. But I figured out that if I use a metal binder ring to attach a metal safety bracelet to his belt loop, he is not only OK with that but considers the bracelet chain an excellent fidget. Another win-win.

[video description: Leo rubbing his hand along the wavy
metal guardrail at the Nemo submarine ride line.]

Overall, a lovely time was had. Though it was a holiday week, it was a Tuesday, plus the park wasn't as crowded as the IsItPacked Disneyland Crowd Forecast foretold. Leo got to ride all his rides, several more than once. We found more spots of joy, like the stim-worthy wavy metal railguards along the lines at the Finding Nemo submarine ride. We also found many spots of quiet and regrouping and rest, such as the circumnavigating Disneyland Train that lets you ride indefinitely. These were important, as were the Benches Everywhere (though New Orleans Square could still use more benches). 

The only real bummer was the brightness. The weather report said it was going to be overcast, so I didn't bring hats. Which meant that once we found ourselves squinting (a situation that leads to horrible headaches for our young hero), hats needed to be purchased. And there is no getting a non-merch-branded hat in Disneyland; I looked. So I ended up, reluctantly, with a Darth Vader trucker hat while my companion scored a "P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney" baseball cap that was the least obnoxious option. (I am old and grumpy and getting tired of branding and merch everything everywhere all the time. Except for at the new Guardians of the Galaxy ride. That was cool.)

The Guardians of the Galaxy ride has so many Easter eggs!
[image: Leo next to a painting of The Collector and The Master
laughing while playing a game at a table.]

A final happy result: Leo spent the months leading up to our visit watching Disney park ride-throughs from parks all over the world. As we made him a bunch of his own ride videos while were were there, and made them part of his YouTube channel, he can now watch videos of himself riding rides at Disneylang on our YouTube-connected TV as easily as he can watch his favorite Netflix shows and DVDs. Sometimes I really do love living in the future:

[image: Selfie of me and J in front of the Vasquez Rocks.]

It gets better coda: Road trips have sometimes been hard with our youngest two. It is a mark of how much they have both matured that when the main freeway pass between the central valley and Los Angeles got shut down due to snow, and we ended up sitting on the freeway for four hours and were eventually turned around and had to to do a three-hour detour and did not reach our destination until 1:30 AM, they were both good sports about it and the situation was totally manageable. It is a mark of how my approach to life has changed that as long as my kids were not having a hard time, I was cool with whatever needed to be done, and am just glad it all worked out, and did not have a panic attack or meltdown. Plus when we woke up, we discovered we were five minutes away from one of the most iconic Star Trek locations in the Southland. It's hard to be mad about geekery opportunities.

 ----

[image: Photo of Seymour's hand holding up his gold wedding
ring next to the volcano that was the film version of Mt. Doom.]

*When I studied abroad in Ghana nearly 30 years ago, making a phone call to my parents was only possible at the airport, and I had to arrange the phone via mail weeks in advance—because that's how long the mail took. In contrast, Iz can and does text us all day long, time differences allowing (she is three hours behind me, but in tomorrow's time). I much prefer the contemporary situation, now that I'm in the parent position. Also: She and Seymour found the one true ring!

Happiness Is Resistance: Disneyland Version

We're still trying to visit Disneyland every year: Leo remains a huge fan, and making him happy usually means universal family happiness. And also because, given the current administration's dog-in-the-manger attempts to make everyone who is not a lock-step loyalist miserable, choosing to do things that make us happy is a form of resistance.

[image: J, a white tween girl,
sitting and reading at a table
outside in Tomorrowland.]

And we were happy at Disneyland, mostly. Our family dynamics are getting increasingly complicated: Leo and Mali are teens with their own interests and agendas, so they don't always want to spend time with each other—nor are they shy about making their sibling disinterest clear. (To be fair, this is exactly how I felt about my older brothers when I was twelve, and probably how they felt about me, too.) Next trip, ensuring that we actually are in The Happiest Place on Earth will mean bringing a companion for the youngest and/or another adult who enjoys hanging with my kids—ideally, my spouse. Though thankfully our youngest is now old enough that if she declines to go on Leo-preferred rides, I can plant her on a shady bench with a e-book and her phone, take Leo on the ride, and everybody wins.

More things that made us happy: We got to have dinner with beloved friends on our first night, complete with many not-quite-negronis for the adults, and nerdy balloon sword fights for the kids. One of the adults, a children's book author, told us an amusing story about dedicating one of her books to Mali: Her co-author brother was actually *in* Mali, giving a presentation, and all the kids in the audience were so thrilled that the book was dedicated to their country! The brother had to explain that in this case only, Mali was a little girl.

Sidebar: Now Mali is a much bigger girl. And is insisting on going by her middle name, sob (I have wanted to have a girl named Mali since I was Mali's age). So, alas but with respect: from now on, Mali will be J. in these pages.

About to go on "Nemo"
[image: Selfie of Leo and me. I have
on a Disneyland "Vaccinated" pin.]

Back to Disneyland: I proudly wore my Disneyland "Vaccinated pin," which you can sort of see in the photo to the left. Many thanks to my friend Matt for the gift! Or, I did wear it until Leo had me take it off. Park staff who noticed the pin smirked and thought it was great.

The root of Disneyland happiness is that it has become a place of soothing predictability and routine, where we can mostly relax because we know what we want to do, and how to do it. It is also nerd-friendly: A welcoming place for people who like to cite movie lines, as we did all day both days by paraphrasing Finding Dory, "I like Leo. Leo is squishy; "I like benches. Benches are squishy." It is also totally fine to sing Disney songs out loud—like the entire Moana Soundtrack. (We only saw an official Moana cast member once, which was disappointing.)

Strangely, even though we visited on a non-Summer, non-Holiday, non-Spring Break weekday, the park was still fairly crowded, at least for our peripheral space needs. And it was mostly full of little kids, teeming with tiny Elsas and Elenas of Avalor, and holy hell so many strollers parked everywhere, narrowing all walkways and often making it hard to get by.

Possibly this disproportionate use of space by loud tiny people and their gear even though the park was technically not busy according to the Disneyland Crowd Tracker was why we didn't see many people like Leo. I mean, I saw lots of kids in the lines at the disability access pass kiosks, and several adult friends wearing headphones, but no one as ... exuberant as my son.

Is it because the park is such a sensory assault zone? It can be really, really overwhelming. Leo is learning to self-regulate while visiting, usually with a sit-on-the-bench request. But I do know many families who just don't go to Disney parks, because they know that their kid would lose it amidst the noise and chaos and crowds (I have heard this about autistic kids of all support levels, mind you), or because the parents themselves share some of their kids' sensory sensitivities and, just, no. No.

Ladybugs Ride!
[image: Leo sitting in a red car in the spinning Ladybug Ride.]

There are some rides that Leo will not ride, due to sensory issues, like the too-jerky-for-his-taste loop-de-loop rollercoaster. Which is why I was surprised at how upset he was over the unavailability of an ride that throws its riders around even harder, the Tower of Terror. It has been closed, and is being converted into a Guardians of the Galaxy ride. We confirmed the ToT's unavailability with at least four walk-bys and constant reassurances that Yes, it is Closed. Still. (It had better be fricking awesome when it reopens, transformed.) Thank goodness the "Sully and Mike ride" and the "Ladybugs ride" were both still open, fulfilling our dude's happiness quotient for that area of the park.

Keeping the happiness alive also meant sincere dedication to going with the flow. Leo wanted many rides on the "Nemo" submarine and Star Tours rides, and we followed suit (not exactly a hardship). And after years of encouraging Leo to try to play the shoot-em-up games during the "Toy Story" ride, I've stopped prodding him. He's really not interested. It doesn't matter if it's a fine motor skill or inclination issue: He enjoys the ride, doesn't care about participating, and that is that.

We also were able to verify the rides he doesn't like or finds dull, and which we can cross off our list for now: Indiana Jones (the line is a nightmare for him, even with the disability pass), and the Jungle Cruise. I have to admit, I agree with him. Meh to both.

Tiki Room!
[image: Photo of Leo smiling
in Disney's Tiki Room.]

And then ... Leo discovered that the Tiki Room is a real place at Disneyland, and not just a song he listens to every day. Watching the pure joy of his epiphany was very sweet to witness.

However, the Tiki Room was also an example of the park's jaw-dropping cultural disconnections. How is it that, in 2017, the shlocky camp of the Tiki Room not only still exists, but exemplifies the icky disrespect to Polynesian culture that the careful, deferential creators of Disney's Moana tried so hard to avoid? How is it that, in this era of podcasts like the Stories-from-Hawaii Offshore, race/culture-exploders like CodeSwitch, and the unapologetically arch indigenous criticism/geekery of Métis in Space, we still have It's a Small World's USA representatives as vaguely 19th century white cowboys and farmers, occasionally paired with smiling Native Americans? How is The Jungle Cruise still featured wide-eyed "locals" getting their butts poked by rhinos, African "natives" dancing in bushes, and "head hunters"—with wares? How on earth do Splash Mountain's critter scenes, based on the no-longer-available-for-good-reason movie Song of the South, even exist? Choosing happiness doesn't exclude discussions with the kids about cultural insensitivity, and probably never will.

Star Tours! Star Tours!
[image: Leo wearing 3D
glasses on Star Tours ride]

The park employees ("cast members") had their own part in keeping our happiness going: they were so kind, and so many of them greeted Leo's expressed enthusiasms with big sincere "hello"s. When I was visibly having a tough time, an ice cream kiosk dude yelled from across Main Street to ask if I was OK, then gave me the information I needed. We had a long and pleasant conversation with the disability pass kiosk worker, about when was best time to use the pass and on which rides (morning is the worst, mid-day/mid-afternoon best)—and then, noticing that we were ending our ability to hold it together, gave us a pass to enter the last ride Leo wanted to go on immediately, which I guess they have discretion to do under urgent circumstances such as people really needing to leave the park early but also were unable to leave the park until they go on a certain ride. (The most delightful cast member by far, however, was the guy messing with the park's stringent dress/grooming code by wearing a wig with Princess Leia buns.)

And personally, I love staying at the on-site hotel, and being able to retreat as needed—despite the guilt associated with such indulgence. I adored the ease of being able to walk back into the hotel directly from California Adventure, when the kids needed a break. I appreciated getting that early "Magic Hour" of extra-low attendance park access. And I was grateful for the super-chill, cozy, kid-friendly bar/restaurant (with legitimate, and reasonably-priced, negronis) in the lobby. For some reason the hotel rooms no longer come with eponymous stationery or robe, which is too bad as I like to write letters and J. likes to lounge in the robes, but maybe that's just policy now.

It was a happy time, this latest trip to Disneyland. I learned a lot about how to make it even happier, next time.

Our Three Mouseketeers
[image: Selfie of happy Leo, me, and goofy J.]

Please, Disneyland: Do Right By Your Autistic Fans

Disneyland train! Disneyland train! (Feb 2013)

Update 10/5/13: Looks like the new policy will indeed acknowledge diversity in disability and offer differing accommodations as a result. Woot! So grateful and relieved.

Leo is singing a song about Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck right now, because all things Disneyland are never far from his mind. He asks to go to Disneyland every single day of his life, and if he hadn't been singing that song, he'd probably have been watching California Screamin' roller coaster videos on YouTube, or looking through pictures of his own 2011 trip to the Land of Mouse.

Leo really, really loves Disneyland. Really loves it. It is his happy place, one of the few places I know he will have a good time all day long, one of a handful of not-our-home places I feel fully comfortable taking him.

That is why I am so downhearted about the recent announcement that the park will be discontinuing the Guest Assistance Card that made Leo's trips to Disneyland possible. If Leo doesn't have a GAC, we can't go. End of story.

I've written about Leo's adoration of The Happiest Place on Earch before, and why the Guest Assistance Cards matter.

Leo's visit was a huge success, and Disneyland turned out to his Land of Yes. He got to do exactly what he wanted all day long, directing the action according to his interests and impulses -- an unprecedented freedom for a boy with a heavily structured life. He was also never bored, which can be an issue for people with communication challenges. Because of a Guest Assistance [Card] the Mouse thoughtfully provides for people whose behaviors make it difficult to wait in lines, Leo could get right back on any ride he liked, as many times as he wanted.

You have to understand: our love of the GAC is not because we get to skip lines and blow raspberries at all the chumps who don't. Skipping lines is not a convenience but a necessary accommodation for our boy. Because he is autistic. Because of his specific disability.

Leo can wait in lines, but not always. Not lines of Disneyland length. Not without melting down due to the crowds, the noise, the expectation based on previous experience that he will not have to wait in lines longer than 20 or so minutes. Without the GAC, Disneyland is effectively barred to my son.

Even with the GAC, it can be difficult -- there is no GAC for park entry lines, so when those lines were longer than he was used to the last time we visited, Leo ended up having a spectacular meltdown. Please believe me, he really does need GAC accommodation; he doesn't deserve to be a public spectacle just because of his neurology.

I understand that Disney is planning an alternative to the GAC: the Disabled Assistance System (DAS), which includes a system of going to kiosks to get return times for the most popular rides. Which incorporates back-and-forth time for DAS users only. People with disabilities and their families only. Which means additional complications and fewer ride times for those for whom going to Disneyland is already much more complicated and so already includes fewer ride times.

I have heard from several different sources that Disneyland discontinued the GAC because people were rampantly taking advantage of it, either falsely claiming disability or in some cases hiring disabled people so their non-disabled kids could skip lines.

Happiest boy, happiest family (Feb 2013)

My reaction: So what? There will always be losers people who game accommodation systems. But in a fair and just society, you don't take away (or complicate) accommodations for people with disabilities just because non-disabled people are taking advantage of them and making other non-disabled people mad. Especially as I've never heard from any of our Disneyland-loving, GAC-using friends about being disadvantaged due to too many other GAC users.

There are so many other things that make Disneyland wonderful for Leo: Hotel pools that open at 9 AM. Cheerful and accommodating staff. Beer in California Adventure (OK, OK -- that one's for me). But the GAC is the Disneyland matter that matters most for our family. I will continue to monitor the DAS as it develops, and learn from others about whether it could work for us. I hope so, because I had just started to plan our next Disneyland trip. If we shouldn't go, I need to know soon.

"Want to go to Disneyland?"

Leo keeps asking to go to "Disneyland," so we spend the morning looking at pics from our trip -- to Leo's utter delight. We need to figure out a way to get this boy back to Mouse Land -- he's been asking for "Disneyland?" with increasing urgency.

My brother (the cheeky dude in the glasses) took the above shot-of-the-shot of us on the California Screamin' roller coaster. At the time Leo wasn't so pleased, but when he saw this pic this morning he pointed at it with extended index finger and said, "Again?" (Yay fine motor skills!)

Also Leo woke me up this morning via the repeated top-volume "ka-thunk ka-thunk ka-thunk ka-thunk" of a cheap plastic soccer ball being kicked and successfully, repeatedly returned to a wall at short range (though I'll admit to wishing he had chosen a location other than my echo-chamber bathroom). Our boy has some serious gross motor coordination and reflexes, we need to provide him with more outlets -- but in the meantime, any one who wants to hang out with Leo should now feel free (or even obligated) to kick a ball around for five, ten minutes. (Yay!)

In the meantime we have been watching this Star Tours video a lot -- that was Leo's favorite ride. Anyone have any other favorite YouTube Disney videos?



---- We have been so many clicks beyond busy that I don't even know what to write about that. But Leo is certainly in a good space, and that makes everyone happy here.

Magic Kingdom-Bound

We're off to see the mouse tomorrow morning. Me, Mali, and Leo; for both of their birthdays. We're doing this instead of parties. Because I'm too tired to organize parties, and this is an very acceptable tradeoff to them -- or definitely for Mali and I hope for Leo.

It's been seven years since Leo visited his mother's homeland, the place where I used to drive the Electrical Parade's mine cart as Dopey the Dwarf. This is Leo on that last visit, in 2004, mesmerized by the Playhouse Disney show featuring Bear in the Big Blue House. (And 100% being his dad's mini-me.)

I've had a lot of good advice about taking kids with autism to Disneyland, about making sure we get that guest pass at City Hall. We're also staying onsite at the Grand Californian so we can retreat at any time, should Leo want to. (My mom is generously accompanying us so that Mali and her cousin Christy can stay in the park, should that happen.) And of course we have a Stories2Learn iPad social story about our trip.

But -- if you've been, and you've had a successful trip or just learned some interesting lessons about the Magic Kingdom, can you share your story? Not just for us, but also because I'll be writing up a post on this trip for BlogHer? I'd really appreciate some insights on what to expect, realistically. Thanks!