The time I nearly got locked in Disneyland

I will start with a little disclaimer. First, I look terrible in all the photos so bear that in mind before continuing. Second, I love Disneyland with all my heart and most of the incidences that occurred were my fault. Disneyland is one of the best places, I'm just stupid.

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I’ve got leg cramp from being stuffed into a coach seat all day. Well, except for the freezing hour and a half ferry ride from Dover to Calais in the middle. It’s the 30th of December 2010. I’m turning 12 in two days and I’m on my way to Disneyland Paris for my birthday. What could possibly go wrong?

I was born on New Year’s Day so as you can imagine, birthdays as an adult involve watching Disney movies in a hangover induced state. Whereas birthdays as a child involved watching Disney movies in what can only be described as a ‘cake coma.’ Not much has changed really. But for my 12th birthday, the big one two, my mum booked a New Year’s Disneyland coach trip for us and my older brother and it was the best news I’d ever heard in my life. I even have a photo of me sitting at the grotty, graffiti covered bus stop in Launceston, Cornwall at three o’clock in the morning, ready to go with the cheesiest grin and Minnie Mouse ears already perched on my head.

Fast forward to New Year’s Eve, the actual day we spent in Disneyland. For a while, everything was running smoothly. I was decked out in a glittery Minnie Mouse t-shirt, a hot pink Minnie Mouse hoodie, hot pink converses (plain, not Minnie Mouse themed unfortunately) and let’s not forget the statement Minnie Mouse ears. I strolled down to the hotel breakfast room that morning believing that no day could ever possibly top this one. In all honesty, I was right I just had the wrong end of the stick.

As expected, I was greeted at the gates of Disneyland with the warmest of magical embraces. We meandered our way through the crowds. I was desperate to not waste a second on dawdling, especially seeing as we were only here for one day before enduring the joint-stiffening coach journey and freezing ferry ride once more.

We hit the shops first. In hindsight, probably wasn’t the best idea. You try lugging around eight bags between you, compactly stuffed with Disney goodies, for 16 hours. Although I will admit, the novelty mugs and cuddly toy set of Mickey, Minnie and Pluto are all still dearly loved to this day. We then decided to visit some rides and first on the agenda was Phantom Manor. This is when the bad luck began. Maybe it really is haunted. We were walking around the ghostly rooms, everything was fine. We boarded the ride that takes you through the rest of the house, cold breezes nipping at your feet and hidden crows squawking in your ear, everything was fine. And then we broke down. For the next 40 minutes or so I watched a ghoulish looking creature remove and reattach his head over and over again. It wasn’t the best of starts but I was willing to accept it as a one off and move on.

My god was I wrong. We then thought we’d try our luck at the Indiana Jones roller coaster ride. The excitement was building as either side of the outdoor queue was decorated in rustic tents, mini (fake) bonfires and scattered camping equipment left as though it was one of Indie’s abandoned camps. We finally, after two hours of agitated queuing, were being locked in place by the metal bar. The ride was mere seconds away from taking off before I noticed something that struck me with stone cold fear. The nearby screams directed my vision to a sequence of loop de loops and I was not having it. Call me a wimp but I immediately burst into tears. I was crying so much the salt from my tears was pricking my cheeks and my face was puffy. The ride attendant looked confused. My brother sat next to me look confused. The line of people I was holding up looked confused and very annoyed. So, eventually after a minute or so of blubbering I was let out but left my brother alone to face the motion sickness. I’m sure he was fine.

After the ride madness, I was in need of some calming, feet-securely-on-the-ground activities. So, we decided to browse this beautiful glass shop where there was a man in the corner making Disney characters out of glass. It was enchanting. Crystal clear glass characters in all sizes cascaded the walls. The man making them was hunched over in intense concentration, surrounded by parents keeping tight hold of their rambunctious kids, while he moulded the hot glass into tiny princesses. However, I was deeply on edge. I’m not the most gracious person at the best of times and today didn’t seem like it was really my day so I wondered around the shop holding my breathe and keeping my elbows tucked in so tightly I swear bruises were appearing. I bet Cinderella in her glass slippers never had to put up feeling like this. Fear was brewing. I was too scared to touch anything and at this rate was more concerned that I was running out of time to meet Belle. We stayed for no longer than about three minutes more but in this short time I managed to commit what I thought was a crime.

I was trying purposefully to keep my hands to myself and stay still, curiosity got the better of me and I went to look at some ornaments that were on a shelf. As I thought, I can’t be that clumsy, I went and knocked Peter Pan off the back. I can tell you that my heart shattered at the exact same time he did. I released a silent scream knowing full well none of us had enough money left to pay for this thing. People were beginning to stare at me the more I sweated. My brother shouted, “you broke it!” to which I responded by ripping my mouse ears off, putting my beanie hat on (because that’s a plausible disguise) and running out of the store. If the day hadn’t of been bad enough, now I genuinely thought I was a wanted criminal. I didn’t get caught. So, Disney if you’re reading this, please accept this as my formal apology and don’t come after me. Its been 10 years now, I’m willing to put it to bed if you are.

What happened next? Oh yes, the getting locked in part. After I was reassured that I wasn’t going to get arrested, the evening seemed to pick up. As day grew into night, we managed to bag some good spots to watch the parade from. Laughter and music filled the air as each extravagant float went passed. Some characters waved and smiled, some twirled and danced, then it was time for the fireworks. The clocks struck midnight. Carriages turned back to pumpkins and horses back to mice and I turned 12. Sleeping Beauty’s castle was such a sight for sore eyes when it was illuminated with lights and sprouting fairy dust-like fireworks from its peak. I almost forgot everything that had happened that day. That was until it was over and me and my clearly directionally challenged family had to make our way back to the coach.

It should be easy, every single person in the park is leaving in the same direction. Well, you would think, wouldn’t you? Still to this day, I’m not sure how it happened. That specific part of my memory seems to have been misplaced but all I know is that we took a detour and ended up in a questionable looking warehouse carpark at one o’clock in the morning with no one else in sight. My first thought was, ‘we are going to be stranded on the streets of Paris.’

We wondered around helplessly for what felt like an eternity when we suddenly heard the noise of a crowd. Still, no one could be seen so the next dilemma was figuring out where the crowd was. Fear that the coach would just leave if we were gone too long was rising. As the minutes passed, we were looking more and more dishevelled with our eight shopping bags, character themed hoodies and I was not letting these Minnie Mouse ears leave my head for anything. Moments before contemplating which storage container would be best to sleep in, we found ourselves on a road bridge and low and behold, about 14 feet below us were all the people leaving Disneyland.

Brilliant. Except for one thing, how do we get down there? I’m fairly sure humans don’t tend to land on their feet. We observed and noticed a bank side leading down to the walkway. To access this bank, however, we had to scale a six-foot wall. My brother being six-foot was generally okay. My mum on the other hand is five foot four and I was barely scraping five foot at the time. Bit of a different story. We managed to give each other a leg-up without breaking any mugs but it proved how pathetic my upper body strength is. Albeit I was only 12 but again, not much has changed.

Once we had dropped down and planted our feet safely on the bank, we came to realize that it was muddy, slippery, steep, and covered in brambles. It is times like this where you just have to stop and take a moment to reflect on how bizarre life can be. If it wasn’t for how tired I was, I probably would have cried again at this point, but we were determined to find that damn coach. So, we began shimmying down the bank. My hot pink converses were now brown, the heavy bag handles were cutting off the blood circulation in my arms and my hands were getting sliced up from grabbing onto the bramble bushes for dear life. It was either that or sledging down the mud and the latter may have prevented us from being allowed back onto the coach all together if we ever found it.

We eventually reached the bottom and were faced with another six-foot drop. We were tousled, tired, fed-up and everyone passing was staring at the three lunatics jumping from out of the darkness. I mean, I would stare too if I saw someone who looked like they’ve just escaped from Jumanji. We kept our heads down and clung to the crowd like Velcro.

Finally, we made it. I regret every bad thing I ever said about that coach. It was like finding gold. We sunk into our seats, eyelids battling to stay open. The bad luck is over, right? Wrong. Upon pulling my Minnie Mouse cuddly toy out of the bag for a bit of comfort after the chaos, I found that the security tag was still on. Our bags were so full it couldn’t have gone off in the security sensors. A man sat behind us very kindly offered to help get it off. Stupid idea, obviously, but my fried brain accepted the offer. Unfortunately, it was one of those ink filled tags so when she was returned to me, she was covered in indigo ink, tag still attached. A few days after the holiday my mum had to drive over an hour to the nearest Disney store to get it removed and Minnie is still stained to this day. We’d given up at this point and just wanted to sleep. As did everyone else, seeing as it was nearing two in the morning. We rested our heads on the window, not caring that it was uncomfortable and it was only about two minutes into the drive that the entire curtain rail broke and fell down, coating everyone on the left hand side in a distasteful 80s print.

In retrospect, I look back at this holiday with such love. Despite the antics, it was every bit as wonderful as you would want a Disney holiday to be. By the time we got home, it was a hilarious story to tell and to me, still is a decade later. For a New Years Eve coach trip to Disneyland Paris now you can expect to pay between £300-£500 per person with companies such as Gold Crest and Travel 55. I hope that if you do go, your trip is filled with just as much magic as mine was and throw in some mud and broken glass for good measure.