Disney's Fleecing On Ice
We were already a hundred bucks down when we rolled into the parking lot – tickets to the Disney on Ice Princess Wishes show being priced higher than many concerts I've been to over the years. The Allstate Areana and the city of Rosemont took us for another $11 to get into the parking lot, though we were early, so our parking space was reasonably close the entrance. It was a pleasant afternoon, sunny but cold, and after a brisk walk to the doors on the Target side of the building, that's when we got to see the real Disney magic in action.
About every ten feet, there were elaborate pink and gold booths arrayed with all kinds of merchandise of the kind that little girls find irresistable. Aidan and Reese were immediately transported, rushing forward, pointing, "I want that, Daddy! And that! Ooh, and that!" "Let's find our seats first," Daddy advised, foolishly thinking we could dodge the booth at the entry and maybe only get a nice popcorn later.
Of course, Disney had placed one of these booths literally every ten feet around the arena, and having entered the place on the opposite side as our seats, we had a long walk, and a lot of time to consider our options. Giant glittering magic wands. Hats shaped like a cartoon fish that also came with popcorn. Dolls priced 3 times what they were priced at the Disney Store. Glittering cups with animated straws holding some sort of slushie drink. Coloring books.
At last, seat location identified, we hit the merchandize "killzone" and let the girls have at it. Eventually, Aidan came away with an Ariel magic wand, which lit up and played "Under the Sea," and Reesie got an Arial action figure, which she hugged and then began to sing songs from the movie in her own little way. Popcorn, drinks and a coloring book, too (and looking at my wallet now, I see that of the $80 I started with yesterday, I've got a crumpled dollar bill left). "You magnificent bastards!" I thought, walking away from the sales booth – Disney's entertainment product is just their gateway drug to this marvelous fleecing. The mother standing next to me at the booth, paying for fish goggles and a wand for her daughter, rolled her eyes at me in sympathy and understanding as she retrieved her credit card from the man – all of us joyful suckers bound together out of a love to make our little girls (there were no small boys at this event) smile.
And smile they did!
While not one to spend a Saturday afternoon watching ice dancing on TV, or in any way a fan of the "on ice" school of entertainments, I was quite surprised by the quality of the show and the performance. Costuming, effects, rigging – all surprisingly "top shelf" and well-orchestrated. Made one feel like at least on ticket price, you were getting your money's worth.
Certainly, as far as the girls were concerned, I'm quite sure they thought it was the best thing they'd ever seen. Reesie, prone to be a bit of a wiggle worm in public, sat riveted for much of the show (though in the second half, she got up and stood next to Aidan, putting her arm around Aidan's shoulder). Aidan watched with rapt attention, calling out each new story, clarifying key plot devices for Daddy ("Daddy, this is where Ariel loses her voice to the sea witch!") Aidan was also very taken by the costuming, I think, or looking for reassurance of reality – "Daddy, that's just a guy in a costume, right" – when the genie from Aladdin or the fire breathing dragon from "Sleeping Beauty" appeared. For the finale with Cinderelaa, she clapped and clapped, the sort of clapping little girls do where they hold their palms facing each other and straight up, and clap them together very quickly in gleeful amazement. And as the princesses and their princes reappeared (one briefly questions the lesson of "getting a man" as the successfuly fulfillment to all of the princesses' wishes), Aidan began to cry. "Daddy," she sobbed, "is it over?" "Yes," I told her, and she cried so much we had to take her out into the lobby, missing the fireworks that shot out of the giant Cinderella carriage at the end.
Strangely enough, Cindy and I both confessed to getting a little teary-eyed during the show as well, and that puzzled me, as I'm not overly weepy as a rule, and the show was not that moving. The best I can think of was some sort of psychic feedback from our girls – the intenisty of their happiness and joy spilling out and over their little bodies and lives, washing over us, making us see perfect joy for those moments, tearing up at the recognition of it, the feeling of it that comes so easy to the girls, so much harder to we adults. Or maybe a man in a foam lobster suit is just that moving. Regardless, for that feeling, for that happiness for the girls, time and time I'd again, I'd pay any price to see them smile and hear their laughter.
About every ten feet, there were elaborate pink and gold booths arrayed with all kinds of merchandise of the kind that little girls find irresistable. Aidan and Reese were immediately transported, rushing forward, pointing, "I want that, Daddy! And that! Ooh, and that!" "Let's find our seats first," Daddy advised, foolishly thinking we could dodge the booth at the entry and maybe only get a nice popcorn later.
Of course, Disney had placed one of these booths literally every ten feet around the arena, and having entered the place on the opposite side as our seats, we had a long walk, and a lot of time to consider our options. Giant glittering magic wands. Hats shaped like a cartoon fish that also came with popcorn. Dolls priced 3 times what they were priced at the Disney Store. Glittering cups with animated straws holding some sort of slushie drink. Coloring books.
At last, seat location identified, we hit the merchandize "killzone" and let the girls have at it. Eventually, Aidan came away with an Ariel magic wand, which lit up and played "Under the Sea," and Reesie got an Arial action figure, which she hugged and then began to sing songs from the movie in her own little way. Popcorn, drinks and a coloring book, too (and looking at my wallet now, I see that of the $80 I started with yesterday, I've got a crumpled dollar bill left). "You magnificent bastards!" I thought, walking away from the sales booth – Disney's entertainment product is just their gateway drug to this marvelous fleecing. The mother standing next to me at the booth, paying for fish goggles and a wand for her daughter, rolled her eyes at me in sympathy and understanding as she retrieved her credit card from the man – all of us joyful suckers bound together out of a love to make our little girls (there were no small boys at this event) smile.
And smile they did!
While not one to spend a Saturday afternoon watching ice dancing on TV, or in any way a fan of the "on ice" school of entertainments, I was quite surprised by the quality of the show and the performance. Costuming, effects, rigging – all surprisingly "top shelf" and well-orchestrated. Made one feel like at least on ticket price, you were getting your money's worth.
Certainly, as far as the girls were concerned, I'm quite sure they thought it was the best thing they'd ever seen. Reesie, prone to be a bit of a wiggle worm in public, sat riveted for much of the show (though in the second half, she got up and stood next to Aidan, putting her arm around Aidan's shoulder). Aidan watched with rapt attention, calling out each new story, clarifying key plot devices for Daddy ("Daddy, this is where Ariel loses her voice to the sea witch!") Aidan was also very taken by the costuming, I think, or looking for reassurance of reality – "Daddy, that's just a guy in a costume, right" – when the genie from Aladdin or the fire breathing dragon from "Sleeping Beauty" appeared. For the finale with Cinderelaa, she clapped and clapped, the sort of clapping little girls do where they hold their palms facing each other and straight up, and clap them together very quickly in gleeful amazement. And as the princesses and their princes reappeared (one briefly questions the lesson of "getting a man" as the successfuly fulfillment to all of the princesses' wishes), Aidan began to cry. "Daddy," she sobbed, "is it over?" "Yes," I told her, and she cried so much we had to take her out into the lobby, missing the fireworks that shot out of the giant Cinderella carriage at the end.
Strangely enough, Cindy and I both confessed to getting a little teary-eyed during the show as well, and that puzzled me, as I'm not overly weepy as a rule, and the show was not that moving. The best I can think of was some sort of psychic feedback from our girls – the intenisty of their happiness and joy spilling out and over their little bodies and lives, washing over us, making us see perfect joy for those moments, tearing up at the recognition of it, the feeling of it that comes so easy to the girls, so much harder to we adults. Or maybe a man in a foam lobster suit is just that moving. Regardless, for that feeling, for that happiness for the girls, time and time I'd again, I'd pay any price to see them smile and hear their laughter.
