Backstage Disneyland: The Secret's Out: Disney characters are real and they live behind the scenes at Disneyland (3 page)

"I see you brought your little buddy, Buzzy Wuzzy," says Mike Wazowski, dripping with sarcasm.
 

The Six of Spades jabs his spear through the gate at the walking eyeball.

"Hey, watch the eye," says the little green alien, holding his hand to his head.
 

"Stand back you little green freak," yells the Six of Spades, poking his spear at Mike again.
 

The dust-up rattles both security forces, who rush the gate with weapons drawn. The alien mutant freak deserves whatever he gets. He’s got no right talking to Buzz that way.

"Hey, who you calling green?" shouts a Green Army sergeant.
 

Indy steps to the front of the skirmish in hopes of restoring order to a quickly escalating situation.
 

"Now everybody just calm down," Indy says.
 

Indy’s intervention dials back the rising tensions to a low simmer. It doesn’t take much to rile up Pixar characters. They’ve got a fuse as short as Woody’s pull string.

"You should keep to your own kind, Indiana Jones," Woody says with a sneer. "Whatever that is. You're not even a Disney character."

The Pixarians always play the origin card. They're newer, richer and more popular than the Disneylanders, but insanely jealous of them. From a storytelling standpoint, the Disney characters will always come first. Direct from the hand of almighty Walt. But rather than remind his Pixar pals of this, Indy opts for diplomacy.
 

"Let's get this over with," says Indy, ignoring the taunts.
 

The King of Spades and the Green Army General simultaneously step toward the gate.
 

"Just keep pulling my string," yells Woody, swinging his arms wildly as Mike pushes him away from the gate. "I'll be all over you, cowboy."

"Company assemble," screams the King of Spades.
 

The card guards quickly form two columns facing each other stretching away from the gate.
 

"Prisoner exchange formation," barks the Green Army General.
 

With a hut-hut-hut, the Green Army Men hop into a formation mirroring the cards. On the Disneyland side of the gate, Buzz and Zurg wait at the head of the formation.
 

"Unlock the gates," orders the King of Spades.
 

"Unlocking the gates," replies the Green Army General as his troops open the double gate.
 

Ariel, in her human form, stands at the opposite end of the twin columns of soldiers with Aladdin and Genie behind her. Indy looks up at his best friend and sees a tear streaming down Buzz's face. In unison, the King of Spades and the Green Army General give the command: "Prisoners march."

"It'll be alright, buddy," says Indy, patting Buzz on the back. "See you tomorrow."

"I just wish we could all get along," Buzz says.
 

The prisons approach each other between the long columns of soldiers. As they pass, Ariel reaches a hand out to Buzz.
 

"I love you, Buzz Lightyear," Ariel says, loud enough for everyone to hear.
 

It pains Indy to hear those words, knowing his own history with Ariel that he’d much rather forget.

"To infinity and beyond," says Buzz, reaching out to Ariel.
 

The Seven of Spades bats Buzz's hand away with a spear. The star-crossed lovers are separated by more than deep space and oceans deep. The spaceman and mermaid live in two worlds that never intermingle: Disneyland and Pixar World. They see each other for only one fleeting moment each dusk and dawn.

“Keep your hands off Disney royalty, you filthy Pixarian,” growls the Seven of Spades.
 

The gates clang shut and the parties begin to disperse. In the distance, Woody berates Buzz as they head back to Pixar World. The cards disappear with Aladdin and Genie through the tunnel leading back to Disneyland, leaving Indy and Ariel alone at the front gate. Indy throws a comforting arm around Ariel’s shoulders. He desperately wants Buzz and Ariel to be happy together, despite his past actions.

"How much longer can we go on like this?" Ariel asks, tears staining her cheeks.
 

"Something has to change," Indy says.
 

4

Evil Plans

Gaston snatches a blunderbuss with a flared muzzle off the Club 33 wall and swings the muzzle-loaded shotgun over his shoulder. Wearing his signature red tunic, black tights and hunting boots, the blockheaded town hero peers into a wall mirror with an arched eyebrow, strokes his big cleft chin and admires his athletic build.

“She’s the one,” Gaston says, suddenly pointing the gun at Aladdin.

The shirtless street rat in the purple vest and red fez grabs a book from a nearby shelf and flips it open, immediately assuming the role of Belle from “Beauty and the Beast.” The heroes and alpha males drinking with Gaston sense his theatrical intentions and eagerly join the performance developing in the middle of the private dining room.

“The inventor’s daughter?” says Peter Pan in his best Lefou accent.

“The lucky girl I’m going to marry,” bellows Gaston, loud enough to be heard by the entire room.

Aladdin twirls a finger in his shaggy black hair, absorbed in his upside down book as he wanders about the private club pretending to be unaware of Gaston’s attentions.
 

“But she’s...” says Pan with dramatic flair.
 

Gaston grabs Aladdin and squeezes him tight in a ham-handed romantic embrace.

“The most beautiful girl in town,” says Gaston to uproarious laughter.

Most of the other Disney characters in the luxurious dining room ignore the impromptu thespianism, a regular occurrence at the after-hours gathering.

Indiana Jones watches the show from a nearby table. Gaston sure is comfortable with himself. If only Indy’s life was that uncomplicated.

“Do you think we can ever change who we are?” Indy asks.

“Who would ever want to be anyone else?” says Darth Vader, checking text messages on his smart phone. “We’re awesome.”

Mickey Mouse works the room, a cigar in one hand and a drink in the other. He’s complaining to a table full of villains about Minnie, who is upset about his wandering eye.

“Can I help it if I got a thing for Tinker Bell?” Mickey says with a shrug. “Am I not a mouse?”

Pulling up a chair with Indy and Darth, Mickey kicks his large yellow shoes up on the table. At the club entrance, Oswald the Rabbit and a bunch of Yesterlanders enter to a smattering of applause.

“Indy here was just telling me how terrible it is being the greatest hero in cinematic history,” Darth says.

“Yeah, it must be rough dating all those princesses,” says Mickey, dripping with sarcasm. “Are you having trouble remembering all their names?”

At the next table, an even taller cup pyramid reaches toward the ceiling at the Sidekicks table.

“Actually, I’m the second greatest behind Atticus Finch,” Indy says in mock humility.

“Yeah, I imagine Old Atticus has fallen a few notches since the new book came out,” Darth says with a chuckle.

Nearby, Olaf argues with Genie about the Sidekicks’ cup-stacking strategy

“Let’s see, there’s Cindy, Snow and Tiana,” says Mickey, counting the fingers on his white-gloved hand. “I can’t keep up anymore.”

The Seven Dwarfs hang upside down from the chandeliers as they carefully place cups on the tippy-top of the teetering pyramid.
 

“But haven’t you ever wanted to be somebody else?” Indy says.

“Like who?” Darth says.

“I always thought I’d make a pretty good Han Solo,” says Indy, wincing at what he knows comes next.

“Han Solo!” Darth roars, lunging for Indy. “I ought to have you encased in carbonite.”

Darth grabs Indy by the neck, choking him in mock anger. Mickey laughs so hard he falls off his chair onto the floor.

“I thought I could play Han when Star Wars Land opens,” says Indy with a laugh.

Darth only becomes more furious. Making the usually laid-back Darth angry brings Indy nothing but great joy.

Mickey dusts cigar ash off his red shorts and rights his fallen chair. His spilled cocktail glass rolls around on the table.

“You can’t
play
Han Solo,” Mickey says in a sage tone. “Han is Han. Indy is Indy.”
 

Darth finally lets go of Indy’s neck. The Dark Lord struggles to keep a smile from cracking across his masked face.
 

“That’s not funny, man,” says Darth, unable to suppress a chortle.

A blonde bimbette waitress brings Mickey a new drink and wipes up the woody-smelling whiskey.

“We can’t change our script,” says Mickey, exhaling a large plume of cigar smoke. “That’s just the way we’re written. We are who we are.”

It’s clear from the look on Darth’s face that he’s still upset.

“I got just one word for you Indiana Jones,” says Darth, pointing two I’m-watching-you fingers at his bulbous black eyes and then back at Indy. “Snakes. I know where you live.”

Roger Rabbit hits on one of the waitresses, who laughs at his feeble courtship attempt and pats the bunny on his fuzzy white head.

“But all of us act one way on stage and another way backstage,” Indy says.

“That’s different,” Mickey says.

Darth straightens his black space suit and presses a reset button on his chest armor. His labored breathing slowly returns to normal.

“Enough of this crazy talk, already,” Darth says, clearly still perturbed. “Can we please get back to the topic at hand: How are we going to stop Star Wars Land?”

It’s no surprise Darth will do anything to stop Star Wars Land. The Dark Lord loves the spotlight and inviting the rest of the Star Wars universe to Disneyland will only dilute that attention and adulation.

“I’m hearing rumors Star Wars Land is actually going to be much larger than anybody realizes,” Mickey says. “They may even tear down Toontown.”

“Tear down Toontown!” Roger cries, grabbing Mickey by both ears. “Say it isn’t so. Not my home.”

Mickey bats Roger away with a swift backhand and the rabbit tumbles into a heap.

“It’s my home, too,” Mickey snarls. “Minnie’s not too happy about it, either.”

“You’re a big cheese around here,” Darth says. “Can’t you do something?”

Across the room, a great cheer goes up as Donald Duck and Goofy battle for the flip cup crown.
 

“I’ve been lobbying for them to put Star Wars Land in the parking lot behind Tower of Terror,” Mickey says. “But they’ve got other plans for that area.”

“I don’t want to move it,” Darth says. “I want to stop it.”

Pluto and Winnie the Pooh lift the victorious Donald on their shoulders and parade the duck around Club 33. A tipsy Goofy buries his head in shame on the table.

“They don’t listen to me anyway,” Mickey says. “The only place I have any real sway is in this room.”

“So what can we do?” Darth asks.

“There’s only one thing we can do: Sabotage the kickoff party,” Mickey says. “It’s the only way of putting a halt to this thing once and for all.”

Now Mickey is talking Darth’s language. At heart, Mickey is a traditionalist. He wants to see Disneyland stay the same. And Star Wars Land upsets Walt’s original vision for the park. The hard part for Indy will be coming up with a way to sabotage their sabotage plan.

“What about Genie?” Darth says.

“Everybody in this place pretty much used up their three wishes with Genie a long time ago,” Indy says.

“Always for the same thing,” says Mickey, shaking his head in disbelief.

Indy’s smart phone vibrates in his pocket.

“How about the Sidekicks?” Darth says.

“It’s always a question of loyalty,” Mickey says. “They’ll betray you in the blink of an eye.”

Lead by Cruella de Vil, the drunken Villains raise their glasses and break into song as they march throughout the room singing: “Look out! Look out! Pink elephants on parade.”

“And the villains?” says Indy, checking the text on his phone summoning him to the castle.

“Can’t be trusted,” Darth says. “Or bothered for that matter.”

The conga line grows as the Villains weave through Club 33: “They're here and there. Pink elephants everywhere.”

“The Yesterlanders have nothing to lose,” Mickey says.

“But they’re tied to the old way of thinking,” Indy says. “They wouldn’t do anything to sully the reputation of Disneyland. Except Oswald. He’s crazy.”

“That pretty much leaves only Woody and the Toys,” Mickey says. “They’d be perfect, actually.”

Indy replies to the text while half-listening to the conversation.

“I can tell you Woody and the Toys won’t be receptive,” Indy says.

“They’re our only hope,” Darth says.

Buzz had been right, of course. Darth suddenly likes the Toys option when it’s Mickey’s idea.

“Set up a meeting with Woody,” Mickey says.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Indy says, checking the latest incoming text on his phone. “But I can’t make any promises.”

“Which one of the Real Princesses of Disneyland is it this time?” asks Mickey with a wry smile.

Rogers ears perk up when he hears “princesses.”

“Take me with you,” Roger pleads, hanging from Indy’s satchel as the adventurer rises to leave.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Mickey asks.

“How do you do this?” Roger begs.

“I got to go,” Indy says, shaking Roger off his leg.

“Take me with you, please,” Roger cries. “Teach me the ways of the force, Obi Wan.”

“I got to fly solo on this one, Roger,” Indy says, anxious to escape a worsening situation.

“You mean Han Solo,” Roger says, thumping his foot on the ground at his own bad joke. “I’ll be here all week. Don’t forget to tip your waiters and waitresses.”

5

Real Princesses of Disneyland

Indiana Jones opens a heavy timber door inside the passageway of Disneyland’s Sleeping Beauty Castle and heads down a spiral stone staircase. In the basement, the Disney princesses lounge around a lavish living room while chatting and sipping wine. On the other side of the room, some of the best-known animals from Disney films busily operate television cameras, lighting rigs and boom microphones as they film the proceedings.