The Happiest Place with No Sense of Humor (Yet Has Real Cats)

Yesterday I got to go to Disneyland, the first time I've ever gone at Christmas time. The decorations were superpretty and I can't get over how cool Haunted Mansion is now that they have it all decorated like the Nightmare Before Christmas (I can't imagine how long it took, the re-did everything from the rooms to the music to the holograph mirrors. The best part is the banquet room with the gingerbread coffin because they pipe gingerbread cookie smell into the ride). HOWEVER. I have a bone to pick with Guest Services...

A friend of mine once enlightened me on the fact that they won't ask to see your ID if you tell guest services that it's your birthday, I imagine because most people in their key demographic (ie kids!) don't carry around a driver's license/birth certificate/copy of their last Sprint bill. I've made it my tradition to get a birthday button first thing when I get to the park. There aren't any special benefits to having one; I get it because apparently it's a rule that all Disney employees who cross your path that day are required to tell you happy birthday. The MOST FUN part is that they will usually try to say your name, too, which is written on the button in black sharpie. Since they don't ask for an ID, I use fake names that are hard to pronounce or fun in some way to inject a little humor into my day (my favorite was "Svetlana," because the guy who wrote it on my button had terrible hand-writing and Disney employees were tripping over it all day calling me Smelta or Svenn and looking really embarrassed). Anyways. Back to my point on how much I hate the button-writer that was working the customer service desk yesterday:

In the car on the way there we were discussing the name I should get on my button. Since all 4 of our favorite book is "Bigfoot: I Not Dead," which I strongly recommend, we decided I needed to be Bigfoot, and that we were going to write our own sequel called "Bigfoot: Me Go Disneyland," for which I would run around the park in my Bigfoot button and pose for blurred photographs. All agreed this was genius. When the birthday button lady asked for my name I said "Bigfoot" with pride. Then it all went wrong. She paused, the tip of her sharpie on the button, looked at me flatly and said without a hint of irony, "Is that the name on your identification?" 

I wish I had said yes. If she'd asked to see my ID I would have pointed out that I'm 13 (are they allowed to second-guess your AGE as well as your name???). You should have seen this face/tone combination though. I told her no, it was my awesome nickname. 

"We don't do that." Again with the Look. I couldn't even think of an alternate I was so stunned by her lack of Fun. So I went through my fake birthday as "Heather," and my friend Heather was "Heidi," and we did not have as much fun being Heather and Heidi the Swedish twins as I would have had hearing: "Happy Birthday Bigfoot, your party can sit in row 5" at Star Tours. I wonder if they tell 3 year olds named Fantasia or Bambie to come back with some ID.

PS: Andrew and I saw a REAL CAT running around Frontierland, and when we informed a park employee they told us there a LOTS of them living in and around Disneyland. I guess they handle all the rats that can't cook French cuisine or design ballgowns. Later on a cashier at Space Mountain said the one we saw was named Tigger. I only mention this because I think finding cats anywhere is fun.