With the wig, I'm Sleeping Beauty/Princess Aurora:






Without it, I'm Ursula, the evil Sea Witch:

I'm the oldest of three siblings. My youngest brother Travis turned twenty-one on July 19th.

At DisneyWorld last week, we sat together in a bar with our other brother Sean and closed it down. Natalie was there, and the four of us laughed, drank, and had a remarkably good time. I wasn't surprised: I love and like my brothers. I'm lucky, I know. They're smart, kind, and share my humor. In fact, my entire immediate family has the same sense of humor (though Mom occasionally tries to deny it).

When I turned twenty-one, it didn't mean much to me. The year before I'd learned to drink beer in northern England and shoot vodka in Poland. It wasn't a real transition for me, because of my friends, my chosen family. It was arbitrary and ridiculous. But sitting in the dark bar at Disney's Polynesian Resort, in oversized chairs around a small, round table sticky with spilled mojitos and glowing blue margaritas, I realized that when Travis turned twenty-one, something for my brothers and I changed forever.

According to the marks of our culture, we're all grown up. Sure, I'm struggling with my writing, Sean is getting ready to start his residency program, and Travis is still in college. We all have a lot left. But I have a mortgage with Natalie. Sean is married. Travis has a string of crazy ex-girlfriends and a 4.0. We call each other, and interact - not just about movies and nostalgia and cousin-drama, but like friends.

Some time in the past ten years, my brothers (who I've always liked), became my friends. We've lived in a slew of countries and cities, together and apart. We've chosen different paths, rebelled in different ways and at different times. But this summer, I know how alike we are. And I'm glad and proud to be like them. Even when none of us can back down from a dare, even when we put our feet in our collective mouths because we're together a little too obnoxious. We're smart. Funny. Acerbic. Sean is calm, brilliant, direct and soft-spoken. Travis is passionate, communicative, prone to fury, effortlessly kind. I can be calm and direct, and I'm just as furious and passionate. I wish I were more effortlessly kind, organized, soft-spoken.

I wonder what they say about me.

I'm twenty-seven (and a half). My Dad talks to me about politics like an equal. My Mom wants to know my opinion about everything, and she shares my writing with her friends.

Saturday night, after a long two-and-a-half days at Disney World, we all sat out on plastic lounge chairs, between the crystal pool and the resort beach. Tiki-torches lit our faces, we drank Mai Tais and watched Cinderella's castle light up over the bay, the water-light-show, the ten o'clock fireworks.

It hasn't always been rosy. I've fought with my mother more than with any other person. We've been hateful and awful and misunderstood each other. I've had times where I never wanted to go home, where I'd have done anything to avoid it.

But as I leaned back and looked up at the stars, listening to my family laugh and chatter, I realized it's been a long time since I felt that way.

What's the Magic Kingdom like at 3:03 in the morning? Dark!

The lines were also shorter.

On Friday night, the Magic Kingdom had extended hours for guests of their resorts. We had to report to a cast member after 9pm for a bracelet (the kind you get at some bars to prove you're over 21). And then the park belonged to us!

Well, it was open for everyone until midnight. I have to admit I was worried that I wouldn't be able to enjoy myself that late. I mean - I usually start falling asleep between 830 and 930pm. Three in the morning is pushing it - quite a lot.

The sun set and we watched the fireworks over Cinderella's castle. Disney fireworks are the most amazing I've ever seen, like burning chrysanthemums and explosive orchids, tangled together against the stars. From our angle in Tomorrowland, we couldn't quite see Tinkerbelle as she flies over the crowd.

We coursed through all our favorite rides: The Haunted Mansion, Pirates of the Caribbean, Splash Mountain, Thunder Mountain, Space Mountain (twice), the Tea Cups, the Carousel (the line was short), Peter Pan. We found a few hidden Mickeys.

Some of the magic tingled, and there were moments of bliss. But there were also moments where I felt old. I don't remember ever feeling old in the Magic Kingdom before.

There was wood blocking some of the windows high up on the castle turrets - like rooms had been boarded up. Tiny cracks in the illusion that have probably always been there. I told myself stories about why that might be, within the context of the fairy tales. I made up stories the whole time I was there, especially while waiting in lines. Some of them might make it into merry_fates over the next few months.

I still feel clenches in my chest, butterflies in my stomach when I see Mickey Mouse, even after listening to Carlye for hours talk about the ins and outs of working as a face or fur character. It's memory that still hooks into my physical body - like smells are so famous for triggering recall. But these senses are not isolated in my nose or eyes or fingers.

They float in the clouds. Wait for me behind shadows. At the grocery store.

Disney World may be responsible for my hunger for and fascination with that infamous line between magic and mundanity. There are bathroom stalls, dirty napkins, sweat trickling down your back, aching feet, arguing over which line to stand in - then, suddenly, Sleeping Beauty dancing with Philip and you remember your thrill when the prince threw his sword into the dragon's purple chest. There's Mary Poppins, and you remember that you taped the local news channel's coverage of your dad's return from Desert Storm when you were eleven at the very end of the credits, after they finished singing "Let's Go Fly a Kite." It was his favorite Disney movie.

You remember wanting to hold magic in your hands, cupping it like silk in your palms. You remember wondering if you would meet faeries in England or if there would be any one else singing "Kiss the Girl" to themselves as they walked behind you on the way to class in college. You remember sitting at your desk in fifth grade, drawing mermaids and looking up at that boy with scorn when he tries to make fun of you for drawing pretend stuff. You said, "Mermaids are more real than you."

It was the Disney version of "fuck you," because believing in magic made you stronger. Good magic, bad magic, tragedy, challenge, choices - those are the things you learned. Even though you watch the Disney Princess campaign and gag at all the glitter and pink and little girls dressing up and maybe expecting to always be pretty and their parents who don't understand the gender dynamics they're blatantly reinforcing - you remember that you took Aurora's grace and Phillip's fighting, Ariel's rebellion and the choices she made for happiness, and became a stronger person for them. So maybe some of those little girls will realize the strength they can find in that magic, too.

I grew up. I see the cracks in the illusion, the boarded up windows of Cinderella's castle. I don't know where she went.

But I know where I am.

LINES:

- Too long, too hot. The Magic Kingdom needs more shade. And of course I got totally wet on Splash Mountain the time we rode it at NIGHT, not when it was 3 in the afternoon.

- NO ONE WANTS TO RIDE STAR TOURS ANYMORE. WTF? I remember (fondly) when I had to wait 90 minutes for my aborted trip through space to the moon of Endor. Now? 20, tops. :(

- Fastpasses are less convenient than they were in 2003. Probably because the rest of the world has discovered them.

- Long lines = 6 weeks of fresh ideas for my merry_fates Wedfic. Hurray.

SPEAKING OF SPACE:

- Epcot's new ride Mission: Space is just as intense as they advertise. Supposedly it simulates a space shuttle launch. You stand in line (Orange for more intense, Green for wusses) and they repeatedly tell you if you are prone to motion sickness, are pregnant, have heart conditions, etc, to jump into Green.

Travis: "didn't some kid die on this ride?"

Mom: "yes. and an older man, too."

Tess: "Awesome."

The rest of the line takes you past cool space memorabilia (some genuine and on loan from the Smithsonian, others forged and from years like 2034, etc). Then Gary Sinise comes on the TV and tells you all about how you're going to Mars and repeats the lines about motion sickness and pregnancy. He adds that if you're clausterphobic, you might want to skip the trip.

There are four members to a team. I'm the Commander (of course), Natalie's Engineer, Brother Sean is Pilot, and Brother Travis is Navigator. You get into the tiny little pod (which we think is one section of a gigantic circle that basically spins and spins super fast to create the g-forces). Gary says "Put your head back and don't look to either side or you may become disoriented." Read: more likely to puke. Oh, look! Barf bags next to the personal item locker. We forgot to check if they had Disney logos.

Gary: "Your jobs are vital to your survival. But don't worry, the right buttons will light up at the moment you need to push them. Oh, and that joy stick is for the manual override in the case of an emergency landing."

Me/Natalie/Sean/Travis: *nervous giggling*

As the pod closes and the controls move closer (and by closer I mean about 8 inches from your face - they weren't kidding about clausterphobia) Travis says in a high-pitched voice: "I'm freaking out here! No, really! Freaking!"

The pod tilts back so that you're looking up the launch tower.

Travis: "Aaaahhhh!"

LIFT OFF!!!

It's loud, shaky, and the skin of my face starts pulling back. My esophagus is forced back against my spine so it is difficult to breath. I have to push a button to release something and my finger has to fight against the forces to reach the button a mere 8 inches away. Stomach is queasy, CHECK!

But we penetrate the atmosphere and suddenly are in space, and light. Ooooo.

Gary: "Get ready to sling-shot around the moon and head to Mars!"

Tess: "Unnnnghhhhhhh..."

As we careen around the moon and back past Earth again, my stomach starts to churn and tingle and I'm GLAD my throat is so tight.

Sean (in a nervous, sing-songy voice): "This is somewhat unpleasant!"

Me: nervous giggling.

Natalie puts us into hyper-sleep, which only lasts a few seconds for us.

The Mars landing is rough, and indeed we have to switch to manual. There is crashing, but eventually we make it to Mars Control. And wonder if Gary is wearing hair extensions.

I was shaking when we unlatched and climbed out of the pod. With adrenaline and not a little nausea.

In other words: AWESOME.



....Stay tuned for more, including Mai Tais at the Polynesian Resort and our dear friend Carlye Owens dancing on stage with Mickey Mouse.