Returning to Disneyland as a stoic-looking, hormonal teenager did have some setbacks. In all honesty, one reason I was enthusiastic was because I could take the aesthetically-pleasing photos leading me one step closer to my goal: becoming Instagram famous. My two cousins were pros when it came to that social media platform and love to take pictures, so it was the perfect opportunity. After spending all of my earnings for the month – plus half of my savings – then going through a careful outfit selection process, I was ready to show Disney what an empress looked like. (The term ‘Queen’ is too basic for me).
The previous time I had gone to Disney I was only eight years old and if there were any safety threats, I was unaware. Still, not much had changed though I was disappointed when realising that the badasses, Mulan and Pocahontas, were not there for me to fawn over. Although I still wanted to go on a princess scavenger hunt, it turns out I was the one most thrilled to be there. My fifteen and eighteen year old cousins were not ones to wake up early or had the energy as I had, whilst my eleven year old sister much preferred their company to mine as we rarely see them. My mother had told me to make a rota for the days, but I knew this was pointless; with my family you have to be prepared to be thoroughly agitated and accept the fact that your plans will not happen. Like every other holiday before, the trip ended up with me vowing that I would not go on another family vacation again. If it wasn’t for my aunt’s housemates providing me with life support in the final days, I would have probably ended up screaming at my family in front of the park, followed by silent treatment until we were back in England.
Kollrs 