The Birthday
(note: this is a long but truly awesome narrative by my dad about a disneyland trip that happened when i was in high school. i loved it then, and i love it now.)
Unbelievable. There are other words to describe the experience, but it still comes down to this: unbelievable! I am referring, of course, to my surprise birthday party at Disneyland last night. Since my actual birthday was last week, I had no way of anticipating that Jolynne had anything sinister in mind for me.
The evening began innocently enough. Jolynne had wanted me to take her to Disneyland for a couple of hours before we went out for dinner and a movie. She was rushing me quite a bit, but said it was because she had cabin fever. Actually, she had made arrangements with four other couples to meet us at the Main Street railroad station at 5:15 pm. I had to go to the bathroom when we first got there, and Jolynne almost got mad at me.
So here I am coming out of the bathroom next to City Hall, and off in the distance I hear some people yelling something. As we proceed to the train station (Jolynne said she wanted to ride that first), the yelling gets louder, and I see some people in blue shirts pointing in my direction. Even after I comprehend that they are yelling “Dave!”, and even after I recognize that they are friends of mine, I still don’t catch on that they are here for me, because Jolynne had done such a great job of convincing me that they all had other plans for the evening. So I figure that they are just as surprised to see me as I am to see them, and in the back of my mind I begin to wonder why we hadn’t been invited to come to Disneyland with them.
So now we are all together in front of the train station, and my head is swimming as they say “Happy Birthday!” and start handing me gifts. Consistent with my reputation for not noticing details in my environment, it is only after I am presented with a bright turquoise T-shirt with the bold inscription “I’m Dave”, that I realize they are all wearing the same bright shirts proclaiming “It’s Dave’s Birthday!”. I am still wondering if this means that I’m not going to the movie later, but I don’t have time to think about it. My friends tell me that while they were waiting for me to arrive, some guy came by and, reading the message on their shirts, inquired about me. He asked that they tell me “Happy Birthday” for him. So they do. But then the double decker bus drives by us, and this same guy yells out “Hey, is that Dave?” My friends yell back in the affirmative, and so he screams back, at the top of his lungs, “Happy Birthday, Dave!” And then several other people on the bus, who don’t know me or this guy, join the “Happy Birthday” chant. It has begun.
We walk up main street towards Tomorrow Land, and I am trying to let the idea of a surprise party at Disneyland with my friends sink in. But they won’t let me. They are relentless. The entire population of Disneyland seems to notice me at once. What is this? How is this happening? My friends are as amazed as I. We have not traveled more than 50 yards, and already we have lost count of the number of people who have wished me Happy Birthday. It is only later that we realize how our little group of 10 adults, wearing the same bright blue T-shirts with home-made signs, attracted so much attention.
So we are still walking up Main Street, and we are all laughing hysterically at the unanticipated responses from everyone we meet. Although it would be inaccurate to say that no one passed by without asking about “Dave”, or wishing me “Happy Birthday”, you could not have proven it by us. Our cheeks were already sore from smiling and laughing, and we were not even out of Main Street yet.
So now we are approaching Captain E.O., and the response continues. In line next for Space Mountain, we are barely able to hold our own conversations for all the interruptions by well-wishers passing us in line. And then we get our first of (how many?) countless renditions of “Happy Birthday”, sung this time by an enthusiastic group of 8-10 people beside us in line.
The Disneyland employees seem to get a kick out of the phenomenon also, and they are frequently approaching us to find out what this “Dave” thing is all about. Then while our car on Space Mountain is heading up the tracks, the loudspeaker comes on with a special announcement to all present: “Happy Birthday, Dave!” It is accelerating.
We settle into a routine of giddy acceptance of all the attention we are receiving. We continue to be unable to proceed more than a few steps in any direction before we hear someone yell “Where’s Dave?”, or “Happy Birthday, Dave”, or just “Hi, Dave”. And when I am by myself on the way to the bathroom, people approach me and ask how my birthday is going, and in the distance on either side I see people pointing and saying “yeah, that’s him…that’s ‘Dave’”. Everyone in my group of friends compares our experience to the TV commercial for Toyota which shows “Bob’s Freeway”, and shows Bob almost getting a parking ticket, until the officer recognizes him and says “Oh, it’s YOU, Bob.”
So we have eaten dinner now, and enjoyed the food and the break in the Blue Bayou restaurant. And it was cute when our waitress brought another waitress by to point out “Dave” to her. “I just had to see who everyone was talking about”, she says, adding “Happy Birthday, Dave.” And during dinner we hear two other tables receiving birthday songs performed by a few of the servers. But when they come to our table later, it seems that every waiter and waitress in the place has surrounded our table, and while they are singing “Happy Birthday” to me, guests at other tables throughout the restaurant join in. Do these people know how to party, or what?!
And now we are on our way to the Haunted Mansion. Once again we are serenaded while in line waiting to enter the ride. The people are all so friendly, and those in the distance are all wondering what the commotion is all about, so there is no end to the interest and enthusiasm we are shown. Then we are about to enter the foyer of the Mansion, but there is not enough room for all ten of us, so we wait. And the people in front of us complain that they want out of the foyer, “Hey, we want to go through with ‘Dave’!”
We enter the foyer when it is our turn, and people continue to talk and laugh about “Dave”. The doors open, and we enter the expanding room. But before the room starts to move, the narrators voice is drowned out by people calling “Happy Birthday” to Dave, and then the entire room, packed with people, moves back a few steps so that Dave is on display, and they all start to sing, loudly, “Happy Birthday” once again. The volume is amazing, and the narrator’s voice is not even perceptible. Finally, the song ends, just as lightning flashes and the hanging figure above the ceiling is revealed. And everyone yells: “Oh, no! It’s Dave!”
The doors of our expanded room open, and our group of new friends bursts out. The people who were ahead of us in line now turn and welcome us, shouting “Hey, everybody, it’s Dave!”. And still it continues.
Our cheeks are exhausted from the constant smiling and laughing, but there is no break in the attention our party is being so generously offered. When we enter the Train ride, the conductor is infected by the excitement of our group, and he announces over the loudspeaker to everyone on board that this is “Dave’s birthday”. Later, when the conductor makes an announcement about “no flash photography”, he opens with: “Ladies and
gentlemen- and Dave,…”
As midnight approaches, I realize with a mixture of sadness and relief that my celebrity status will soon end, and I will regain my identity as a private citizen once again. Walking down Main Street at 12:20 am, we are recognized by people who had greeted us or sung to me earlier in the evening, and they continue to pass on their genuinely enthusiastic regards.
Finally, we leave the park and head off in our separate directions. I am wearing my jacket now, which covers my bright turquoise shirt with the magic powers.
A shirt which, in the company of my lively friends, afforded me a brief (seven hours did not seem brief at the time!) passport to the world of the celebrated, the distinguished, and the noticed. I now return to the land of the common, but with a memory forever etched in my mind of how it feels to be known by the whole world, the star for one evening at the “Happiest Place on Earth”.
