Once upon a time...
I took the kids to the movies. Which really isn't that exciting except that we didn't actually get to see the movie.
When we lived in Austin, TX, I was at the mall with my kids. (I'm not sure if malls are still a "thing". Malls are buildings with lots of stores in them. It is like Amazon.com in building form.) We were at the mall and I had a good, lucky feeling I was going to enter a drawing that was advertised and win. The drawing was for tickets to see the movie Ratatouille. My good, lucky feeling rarely fails me. Back in college, I would occasionally listen to the radio and the DJ would say, "Call now to win a pizza!" The three different times I heard this, I called, and I won pizza. Friends would sometimes hear the DJ tell us to call and my friends would say, "Call, Ivonne!" But, no! If I didn't feel the lucky pizza vibe, I would not call.
What I'm trying to say is that I won movie tickets! I received the tickets with instructions to be at the movie theater across town on a specific day to get a special pre-release date viewing of Ratatouille...a Disney tale of a rat chef. Surely the kids would love the movie and mom would be the hero of the day. Maybe we would even get a $15 bag of popcorn drenched in hydrogentated oil. My boys and I along with two of their friends were giddy with excitement driving to the theater. It was a hot, humid Texas day but, never mind, we were winners.We got out of our fairly new minivan (which now proudly has approximately 244,000 miles on it and the side left door sometimes opens and sometimes doesn't) and skipped to the theater.
There sat the gate-keeper. The gate-keeper was a sweaty teenager who was not terribly happy to be caged in the glass box but, I would say, they should thank their lucky stars there was a barrier.
Me: "Here are the golden tickets we won to see the fabulous new Disney movie about the rat chef."
Teenager: "No. You can't go in."
Me: "HI. Um. Here are our tickets."
Teenager: "I said you can't go in."
Me (gettin' hot): "What do you mean we can't go in? We won tickets. Here are my tickets."
Teen: "The theater is full. There's no room."
Me: "I won tickets. How do I win tickets and then get turned away. I'm the lucky winner!"
Teen: "Haha, everyone in that theater won tickets."
Me: "You mean to tell me that I got scammed by Disney, the happiest place on Earth? I'm not really a winner?"
Smirking Teen: "Looks that way."
And sadly, shoulders slumped, tears in their eyes, I walk the walk of parental shame with five wailing children in tow. Have you tried explaining this to a child? The most magical place on Earth, and perhaps the universe, has absolutely made you miserable and I fell for their evil trick. I've failed as a parent. Disney, you are the grim reaper of childhood dreams and you will rue the day you toyed with me!
Tears in their eyes, the children rode home in the minivan. I had to adjust the rear-view mirror to avoid seeing their red, swollen tearful eyes and snotty noses. During that ride, however, a plan would hatch. I would let Disney know exactly what I thought.
I sat a my computer and composed...composed the most venomous email I could. After typing out the details of our misadventures, I believe that I typed something like this, "I would rather take my family to Hell than to your Magic Kingdom. Good day, Sir!" Yes, this was good some of the best writing I've ever had. Full of emotion, full of revenge, full evil Disney queen laughter. But who would be the recipient of my fine literature? Ah, that's easy. I went straight to Google and straight to the top. Searching: "Who is the CEO of Disney?" Why do they even list this information? Don't they know that angry mother bears aren't gonna to play? We go big.You list the CEO? Well, that's your own fault that the CEO gets emails from small town moms who are ready to break out the verbal fisticuffs. Ding. Ding. Round one is all I need to KO Bob Iger.Now really, his email was not listed so, I had to get creative. Just start typing the possibilities and eventually, one will hit:
Bob.Iger@Disney.com
BobIger@Disney.org
BIger@Disney.com
You get the idea. I also managed to discover the name of an administrative assistant that works with him. They got emailed as well and Jiminy Crickets, something DID hit!
A few days later, we received a large box from Disney. I'm afraid to open the box. What if opening it detonates the explosive held inside? What if that email was a HUGE mistake? What if Disney is sending me one way tickets to Hell? Is it possible for Disney to hate me? My God, what have I done? I hug my kids, "It was good knowin ya," and we hold our breaths and open.
@$#@#%$^you Disney! Why are you so nice? A kind letter from my pal Bob's Administrative Assistant was the first thing we found. An apologetic and kind letter: We're sorry, accept these, please forgive us. Grrrrr, I want to hate you. We dig deeper and I may have seen fairy dart out of the box and I think I heard "Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo" somewhere in the air. Yes, my friends, magic was in that box. MAGIC. A whole box of Ratatouille goodies: coloring books, the CD, books, shirts, and magic! Disney, I forgive you and thanks for the loot.
