A reflection on 9/11 from The Happiest Place on Earth

My Aunt works at Disney MGM theme park in Security. So I knew that WDW was considered a prime terrorist target. So I said to my husband, Matt: “We need to get out of the Magic Kingdom. This could be hit next.”

As conversations on 9/11 often do, talk turned towards events of that day. Everyone has a story, and my “I was in Disney World” almost felt like an insult to New Yorkers. Until I read this piece from the HuffPo called “What Was It Like at Walt Disney World on 9/11.”

While it won’t compare to the terrors of other New Yorkers, reading that article made me comfortable sharing my own experiences.

How I ended up in Disney World during the first week of school

My dad hated waiting in lines.

We’d go to the AMC on Friday nights. It always had a line wrapped around the corner. He consistently walked to the line’s elbow near the ticket windows and cut. He knew none of the teenagers would say anything. “Lines are to keep stupid people waiting.”

Another prime example? We visited FAO Schwartz while I was in grade school. There was an hour-plus uncuttable line. My dad’s response was to find the exit located in the car dealership next door. He told me to fidget (not a challenging task for me now or then). We waited for 10 minutes, he approached the security guard who no doubt saw us waiting, and told them my mother was inside. We needed to page her. BOOM, in.

My dad knew the Disney World crowds. He returned time after time to torture himself in lines just to watch his kids freak out with happiness. Once, he booked a trip during the first week of school. There were no lines. After all, who pulls their kids from class right when school starts? My parents, that’s who. We were only going to Disney during the first week of school ever again. My dad, mom, brother Joe, cousin, and I flew down sometime after Labor Day.

We checked into the Swan Hotel. My dad worked mornings and joined us in the afternoons at the parks. We got on all the major rides with less than 5 minutes wait. My dad was joyful. Except for the newest ride, Test Track. That had over an hour wait. No worries, we would tackle it during our final morning.

September 11th

We were scheduled to depart that evening. With one final day on our multi-park passes, we had a game plan. Dad worked. We went to Epcot for Test Track, Magic Kingdom for rides and shopping, and the airport for home.

At 26, Joe had recently moved to NYC for a job at the Bank of New York. His office was located in the Financial District. Around 9:10, my brother’s phone rang. For the past 20 minutes or so, his friends frantically tried to get through and confirm he was okay. Standing outside Test Track, that’s how we learned planes had hit both World Trade Center Towers. Thankfully, Joe was with us. His building would eventually be severely damaged. Joe was spared much of the trauma his coworkers faced because of that day.

We went back to the hotel. My dad had on CNBC or CNN or some other news channel. They all repeated the same stories about acts of terror and general confusion. He said there was no point in sitting there listening to that. We may as well head to Magic Kingdom.

Joe and my mom wanted to shop while my cousin and I wanted to hit all the rides again. Our plans were to meet for lunch at Liberty Tavern then make our way back. We jogged to Tomorrowland and found the entrance to Space Mountain barred by Disney workers. After some intense private discussion, they let us through. We raced down the barren corridors, no lines to be found. At the loading area, something unexpected happen: the lights came on.

The Evacuation

Workers herded us towards the doors. They said “Due to unforeseen circumstances, the Magic Kingdom was closing.” Some people knew the reason, many did not. I read it described the atmosphere was calm. I disagree. Maybe people weren’t sprinting, but they were disquieted, uneasy, confused. As for us, we were separated.

We sprinted to Liberty Tavern. The area was empty. We ran towards Main Street where we witnessed a mass exodus of the park. I climbed benches and street lamps, hoping to catch a glimpse of Joe or my mom. We were small enough to run between people, but no luck. We were alone.

We exited the park and walked towards buses leaving for the Swan, figuring worst case we could find them at the hotel. In line for the buses, we found my mom and brother. My mom cried and we were all relieved. By now, everyone knew terrorists attacked New York, Washington, and something about Pennsylvania. People openly speculated about Disney being next. There was crying and some hysterics. People panicked, saying avoid the monorail, avoid the boats. They’re just bigger targets. Why else would Disney evacuate if they didn’t expect us to be hit next? Relief gave way to fright.

It was a tense ride back to the hotel. But no one attacked Disney that day and we arrived safely.

The Aftermath

That’s the meat of the story.

Flights were grounded. We were stuck in Disney, a dream for most kids. Hotels didn’t charge guests for extra nights, didn’t charge for food, and created activities for us. I vividly remember playing games in their arcade for hours while it rained. The parks re-opened. We didn’t go, but reportedly they were eery. My dad grounded his team, told them all to spend time with their families and be safe. My brother tried to get status updates on his coworkers and work in general. Cell phones were largely useless.

After a few days, we made the decision to drive home. We rented a car and I complained endlessly. I didn’t want to make a 20 hour drive and acted like a shithead. Talk about a total lack of awareness. We rented a huge Suburban. I pouted in the backseat, listening to Joe make fun of me, my mom smooth things out, and my dad get pissed. I pissed him off so much that when we pulled over for food, he deliberately went to Taco Bell because I hated it. I deserved that.

He drove the whole way and we made it back safely.

Mickey Mouse and terrorist attacks present quite a juxtaposition. That day and the following ones were surreal.

But that’s my experience, and that’s what I reflect on each year around this time.

Jim Hill, the HuffPo author, also collected more stories from Disney World here, here, here, and here. Browse away for more stories similar to mine.