Tomorrowland.

(After much too long an interlude, our narrative resumes ....)

We woke up early the morning we went to Disneyland. (Possibly too early -- we were tired and hungry and argumentative, but managed to smooth everything over before we actually left the hotel.) treebyleaf's main priority for this trip was that she actually get to spend a whole day, opening until closing, at Disneyland, which she'd never done. Neither had retcon or I, so we'd both agreed it was a worthwhile goal.

The hotel had given us vouchers for the tram to the park -- the tram was a cute little bus all done up in the style of an old-fashioned train or railcar, all wooden panels and brass fittings. We hadn't even arrived at the park yet and already the air of carefully contrived illusion was creeping out to meet us. There was a moment's confusion -- the hotel hadn't put the date on our vouchers -- but no real trouble. We arrived at the park in this color-coded tram station that reminded me both of airports and of school-bus field trips.

We noticed when we got there that Disney's new theme park, the California Adventure, was in fact directly across from Disneyland proper. I suppose that made sense, but not much. I don't much see the point of the California Adventure -- if you're not from California, why would you care? And if you are from California, why would you care?

As Riff bought our tickets, I kept an eye out for hidden Mickeys -- architectural details meant to suggest the silhouette of Mickey Mouse's head. The ticket booth had Mickey-shaped windows; the cement benches had Mickey-shaped end-caps; there were hidden Mickey's in the metal scrollwork on the gates leading into the park. I also kept an eye out for Walt's apartment, but I didn't remember exactly where to look; all I remembered was just the image I'd read, of Walt standing inside it on opening day, all smiles and tears, looking down at the crowds rolling in.

We stepped onto Main Street and I was stunned at the sharpness of memory I had from when I was there as a child. I didn't really need a map, not for the broad strokes of navigation -- I knew Tomorrowland was that way, Frontierland that way . . . . A lot of the details were new and unfamiliar, but the layout was burned in my brain.

At Riff and treebyleaf's suggestion, we found ourselves some lockers for our jackets and such. I'd intended to just keep mine on me, but when I saw how spacious the lockers were, I decided I was being silly and stowed my jacket away with everything else. The room with the lockers was terribly cute, with faux antique luggage stacks as end-caps for the rows of lockers.

We headed, geeks that we are, straight for Tomorrowland.

---

I'd read with great interest about the Tomorrowland renovation. The idea of it both delights and depresses me.

You see, the Powers that Be at Disneyland have decided that, frankly, they can't keep up with the future -- the actual progress of technology and society quickly makes their predictions look dated, kitschy, and silly. So instead of trying to present the world of the future, they're going for kind of a retro-future look -- presenting the future the way we used to imagine it. Sort of a Jules Verne look.

I grudgingly admit I kind of like this idea -- I do love the whole steampunk thing -- but it really does feel to me kind of like a betrayal of the whole idea of Tomorrowland. It speaks to me deeply about how the whole idea of the American Dream of a better tomorrow is withering and dying. We don't really look to the future, anymore, as a culture. We don't look to rockets and progress to save us. Tomorrowland was always a beacon of that dream, and to me, it feels like that beacon has seriously dimmed.

But I have to admit that what they've done so far looks great. There's a copper-clad color scheme to it all, and at the entrance is a huge spire with whirling spheres and great metal arcs. "They stole that right out of The Dark Crystal," treebyleaf commented with a smile.

The first thing we found in Tomorrowland was Star Tours, their Star Wars-themed ride. We looked at each other -- did we want to go on in? We did, especially when Riff and treebyleaf found out I'd never been on it before. The entrance to the whole thing is great -- it really felt like a Star Wars set. But the ride itself was kind of a let-down -- not the least because the sound never cut in until the ride was almost over. We thought about going back around and going through again, hoping the sound would work this time, but just couldn't work up the enthusiasm for it. We'd seen the whole virtual-reality, immersion ride experience done much better the day before with the Back to the Future ride at Universal, and besides, our love for Star Wars in general had been seriously dampened by Episode I. This ride reminded me a lot of the new trilogy, really -- it had the same sugary, watered-down, for kids only feel to it. We left non-plussed.

Wandering around, we saw someone in a robot costume for Treasure Planet, and there was a little Treasure Planet-themed stage/photo backdrop as well. It was a really, really neat looking costume, and went well with the current look of Tomorrowland, but I just had to wince a little -- I know how badly the movie tanked at the box office, I know that people at Disney lost their jobs over it, and it was a little painful to see the evidence of how they'd obviously pinned greater hopes on it.

After the disappointment of Star Tours, we were ready for something a little more hardcore. We were ready for Space Mountain.

Rollercoasters absolutely terrify me. I have trouble with heights, with the apparent danger. But I fondly remembered Space Mountain from childhood -- as I remembered it, the darkness inside it hid the height and danger and I could just sit back and enjoy the sensation of speed.

Wrong.

The entrance to the whole thing was great. (Have I mentioned that we had no lines to deal with, since we were there in January?) A great space-station docking-area look. Sure, maybe it looked a little dated by now, but it had a certain je ne sais quoi that Star Tours just couldn't match.

We got in the cars. treebyleaf sat next to me. We headed into darkness, up through a neat laser tunnel, and beyond that out into darkness hung with hazy, drifting stars. That's right, I thought, I remember this -- And then the car dropped, and that was my last coherent thought.

I was absolutely terrified. I mean, completely. I managed, I think, somehow, not to have a full-blown anxiety attack, but as the car bumped and rolled and leaned during the turns, I quite honestly wished I could just die right then so I wouldn't have to finish the ride. I walked out of there very quiet and very shaken and with my confidence completely blown. This, I'd thought, was going to be the easy ride. How had my experience of it changed so completely from what I remembered? How was I going to be able to handle any of the other rides if this one had kicked my ass so hard?

I didn't really want to talk about it, and Riff and treebyleaf knew me well enough to not press me, to just leave me alone for a while.

We found something a little more low-key next -- Honey, I Shrunk the Audience. I felt a little strange about the number of movie tie-ins at the park, and even stranger and much more annoyed about the amount of corporate advertising I was seeing -- there had been clumsily Star Wars-themed Fed-Ex ads on the walls on the way out of Star Tours, and now before we could get into HIStA, we had to sit through what basically amounted to a long commercial for Kodak.

It wasn't worth it. I was always fond of the movies this attraction was based on, but this short 3-D film was just, well, kinda dumb.

I can't help but compare it to Adventure Thru Inner Space, which I fondly remembered from my childhood. It's been gone for years, but it dealt with some of the same themes, in a way -- the idea of being miniaturized. But dammit, Adventure Thru Inner Space had a sense of wonder, mystery, and grandeur to it, and was at least vaguely concerned with real science -- I remember walking away from it fascinated and wanting to know more about atomic structure and ice crystals. Even though Honey, I Shrunk the Audience is at least nominally concerned with science and scientists, I can't imagine any child walks away from it enlightened and engaged.

And, well, that was pretty much it for Tomorrowland. Riff and I, who both drive, and treebyleaf, who really doesn't, all had no interest in Autopia. The PeopleMover was gone. There was no Submarine Voyage here in the twenty-first century; no World Premiere CircleVision 360 anymore, no sky-tram. (Not that I'd have been able to get Riff and treebyleaf up in it, but paradoxically, I'd been looking forward to going on the sky tram. No, I can't figure me out, either.) There really wasn't a hell of a lot to Tomorrowland, any more.

A little discouraged, and starting to wonder if I wasn't too old, too fragile, and too jaded for Disneyland, I joined my companions on the Disneyland Railroad, a little train that went around the park. We left Tomorrowland behind -- and everything got better.

Next: The Happiest Place on Earth