Backstage Disneyland: The Secret's Out: Disney characters are real and they live behind the scenes at Disneyland (7 page)

"How can I help you, partner?" Woody says, trying to stay in character.
 

"Mickey needs to talk with you," says Indy, dropping all pretense.

Woody's jaw drops. Jessie's lasso goes limp. No one talks like that on stage. Indy is a long way from Adventureland and way out of character. The smart phone-toting crowd creeps in, sensing a YouTube-worthy moment.
 

"You can't be here," Jessie screams, very much in character but expressing her true thoughts nonetheless.
 

"Mickey needs your help to stop Star Wars Land," says Indy, realizing for the first time just how crazy that sounds.
 

A shocked and enraged Woody pulls Indy aside just as Disney executives in suits start showing up in droves. The excessive managerial response can only mean one thing: The wheels are quickly falling off the cart in a very public and embarrassing way. The carefully choreographed order of your typical Disney theme park is suddenly spiraling into anarchy.

“Tell that crazy mouse this is no way to act in front of our guests,” Woody says, tense and terse. “He of all people should know better.”

“He’s got a job for you and the Toys,” Indy says, undaunted. “He wants to meet.”

If there’s one thing everybody knows, at least in the backstage world of Disneyland, it’s that Sheriff Woody hates Mickey Mouse. With all his heart and soul. But for Woody, there’s one desire that trumps all others: He wants to be wanted. To be thought of as important. To command the spotlight.
 

“When?” Woody says, suddenly changing his tune.

“Right now,” Indy says.

Oswald screeches up in the golf cart right on cue. The Disney suits are closing in, sensing a bad situation getting worse. The ordinary golf cart permanently pierces the storytelling bubble Disney strives so hard to create. The crowd of guests watching the drama unfold grows, uncertain if the scene is real or staged.

“That’s impossible,” Woody says, sensing trouble. “I’ve got a parade right after this.”

Indy hops on the cart and pulls his gun on the suits, who back away as the crowd gasps in horror.

“What do you want me to tell him?” Indy asks.

Indy fires blanks at the suits, terrifying the executives and scattering the crowd. Oswald speeds away with a gleefully wicked laugh.

“If he wants to talk,” Woody hollers after the cart. “He’s going to have come to me."

Oswald weaves in between guests, sending some running for cover. Racing past Screamin’, Oswald tears around the bend and smashes into the Duffy the Bear pavilion. Fortunately there is nobody waiting in line to see the underloved character.

“They won’t be able to ignore me now,” Oswald says with a mix of bitterness and glee.

Honking the horn, Oswald crosses a bridge and turns right only to run into a skirmish line of cast members. The quickly-mobilized motley crew of street sweepers, ride operators and cotton candy twirlers lock elbows forming a barricade across the main promenade. Oswald has no choice but to veer right into Cars Land.

For a brief moment, time seems to stop as the epic panorama of Radiator Springs comes into view and a heavenly aria fills the air. The beautiful buttes of Ornament Valley form a backdrop for the tiny Route 66 town. No matter how many times Indy sees Cars Land, it always feels like he’s stepping into the movie.

Reality spoils the illusion as traffic blocks the road ahead. A cluster of guests gather at the only intersection in town to get a closer look at Mater the tow truck and Lightning McQueen, the race car star of the movies. Oswald slams on the brakes, hops off the golf cart and opens Lightning’s driver side door.

“You coming?” Oswald asks a hesitant Indy.

A conference room full of Disney suits in a fleet of golf carts heads up Route 66 in a slow-speed pursuit. Indy laughs, if only for a second.

“Why not?” says Indy with a shrug.

The red race car with the Rust-Eze logo on the hood and lightning bolt on the fender revs his engine in anticipation. Indy leaps into Lightning’s passenger seat and slams the door shut. The sleek black interior glows in the neon blue of the dashboard amid the luxurious smell of supple leather.
 

“Where to?” Lightning asks.

“Fantasyland Theater,” Oswald says.

“Awesome,” Lightning says. “I’ve been dying to get out of first gear.”

Lightning hits the gas and squeals his tires as he screams down Route 66 like a dragster on a quarter-mile straightaway. The crowd parts like the Red Sea to thunderous applause. Within seconds the hot rodders are at the front entrance of Pixar World. Lightning honks his horn and a pair of cast members swing open the side gates.

“Do you mind?” Lightning asks.

“Go right ahead,” Oswald says.

Lightning spins a series of doughnuts in the central promenade between the two parks. The tachometer dial tops out as Lightning reaches maximum RPMs. Smoke billows from his tires and the smell of burning rubber fills the air before Lightning stops dead with his signature “Ka-chow.” The stunned onlookers erupt in cheers.
 

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Lightning says with a rebel yell.

“I think we better keep moving,” Indy says, spotting their pursuers through the tinted window.

Lightning gently pushes open the Disneyland gates, popping the lock to the surprise of the uniformed security officers. Revving his engine as he passes through the tunnel, Lightning becomes an impromptu parade of one as he motors down Main Street USA. Cameras flash as Lightning strikes poses for the bystanders lining the street.

“If it’s OK with you guys,” says a clearly liberated Lightning, “I’m just going to take a little detour.”

“Be our guest,” Oswald says with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Lightning swings behind Matterhorn mountain and slips onto the Autopia track to approving honks from the assorted sports cars plying the serpentine course. Lightning puts the petal to the metal and weaves in and out of traffic as if the other cars are standing still. At a hairpin turn, the red racecar leaps off the track and onto a pedestrian walkway in front of It’s a Small World and comes to a screeching stop in front of the Fantasyland Theater.

Indy hops out of Lightning’s passenger seat and runs into the theater where the “Mickey and the Magical Map” show is underway on stage. Scanning the open-air theater, Indy heads toward a back corner of the arena and surreptitiously scales a ladder attached to one of the massive steel poles supporting the canopy roof.

At the top, Indy runs along a catwalk toward the stage, undetected by the audience below but spotted by the Disney security forces pouring into the theater. Up on stage, Mickey waves an oversized paintbrush that brings to life a magical map on a digital canvas.
 

Climbing into the lighting rig above the stage, Indy tries to get Mickey’s attention to no avail. With security inching onto the suspended rigging from stage left and right, Indy lowers himself by his whip until he’s dangling over the stage in full view of everyone in the theater. Everyone that is, except Mickey, who paints a scene with the broom-sized paintbrush.

To the audience, Indy’s inverted intrusion seems like a strange but intriguing element of the show - until he falls to the stage with a thunderous thud. A gasp sucks the air out of the theater until a momentarily-stunned Mickey tosses the paintbrush to Indy.

“Anything can happen when you use your imagination,” Mickey says without missing a beat.

Indy sloppily splashes some digital paint on the screen, making a mess of the magical map.

“Woody’s in,” Indy says in a hushed tone. “But he’ll only meet on his terms and his turf.”

“Whoa, you’re making quite a mess of the map there, Indy,” Mickey says, snatching away the giant paintbrush. “I can’t trust you to do anything.”

The caustic aside stings Indy’s pride. He’s been killing himself to do the impossible for Boss Mouse. Mickey waves the brush like a magic wand and instantly wipes clean the map. With an ascending wind chimes sound effect, a burst of pixie dust confetti rains down on the audience. Indy’s whip falls to the stage and he coils it on his hip.

“I’ve got an autograph session coming up at Pixar World,” Mickey whispers. “Tell Woody I’ll meet him right before that.”

Taking no chances, the brazen Disney security guards burst on stage, determined to capture the rogue Indy.
 

“Well, we’ve got to say goodbye to Indy now,” Mickey says, doing his best to keep the show from devolving into chaos.

Indy leaps off the stage and runs up the center aisle through the audience with a phalanx of security guards giving chase. He races through the Toontown train station and hops on the departing Disneyland Railroad locomotive train. Indy grabs a seat next a young boy wearing a full Indiana Jones costume and waves at the fading security guards as the train picks up speed.
 

“How are you enjoying Disneyland today,” Indy asks the slack-jawed boy as his mother snaps a photo of the pair.

The stadium-style seats facing into the park offer Indy a round-trip tour of Disneyland he rarely gets to enjoy. But the short-lived respite quickly ends as uniformed Disney guards start boarding the moving train. With no escape, Indy climbs on the roof of the passenger train as the guards follow in pursuit.

Two guards chase Indy to the back of the train atop the Lilly Belle caboose, an elegant Victorian parlor car named in honor of Walt Disney’s wife. Trapped, Indy turns to face his pursuers and pulls his revolver. The guards just laugh and continue closing in, knowing the gun is loaded with nothing more than blanks.
 

The chugging locomotive rounds a bend and Indy drops to his stomach just as the train enters a tunnel, which knocks the guards into the nearby brush. Inside the cavern, a fantastic diorama of the primeval world plays out with a prehistoric landscape of animatronic dinosaurs.
 

The pleasant diversion is short-lived. Exiting the tunnel, two more guards scramble atop the train and force Indy toward the steaming locomotive. Indy bounds across the striped canvas awnings covering the passenger cars like an acrobat on a trampoline, leaving the bumbling guards lagging behind. Jumping onto the coal car and into the Ward Kimball steam engine, Indy holds his gun to the conductor’s head.

“Floor it,” Indy commands.

The train picks up speed and races through the Tomorrowland station as Indy pulls the whistle, releasing a great wail. The acidic smell of smokestack soot fills the conductor’s cab. Cast members on the platform leap back from the tracks as the train barrels through the station.

A blow to the head with a coal shovel dazes Indy momentarily. Seeing stars, Indy fends off another two-handed swing by the shovel-wielding Disney guard. Stepping onto the shovel handle, Indy climbs up on the roof of the cab just as the second guard leaps at him from the coal bunker. Indy and the guard wrestle on the curved roof, rolling from one perilous edge to the other. Finally, Indy shoves the guard off the train into the brush lining the track.

A clamorous clank rings out as the coal shovel just misses Indy’s head and strikes the metal roof of the train. Indy snaps his whip around the soot-billowing smokestack and swings around to the front of the train, grabbing onto the headlight. Losing his grip, Indy falls onto the track in front of the cowcatcher just as the train slows to a halt in the main station at the front of the park.

A dozen Disney security guards peer down at Indy from the station platform, billy clubs in hand. Indy hops over the box hedge and slides through the Mickey Mouse floral display, carving a gouge through the corporate face of the company. The fragrant smell of fresh-cut flowers covers Indy from head to toe. The guards give chase, barreling down the hill as Indy sprints out the front gate and across the promenade. Looking over his shoulder, Indy sees a wall of officers closing in.
 

Leaping over the Pixar World turnstiles, Indy dodges guests as he dashes down Buena Vista Street. It’s amazing what a billion dollars will do. The once-derided California Adventure now looks worthy of the Disney name. The 1920s Los Angeles that Walt would have found when he arrived in California is a far cry from the original Sunshine Plaza, a woeful excuse for a park centerpiece. At the top of the street, crowds line the Pixar Play parade route beneath the beautiful Carthay Circle Theater. The peppy, upbeat soundtrack implores the audience to celebrate the good times: “Everyone countdown to fun. Five, four, three, two, one.”

Indy jumps onto the Toy Story float to the shock of Woody and Jessie - and the assembled crowd. A barrel of monkeys hang from a pipe in the mouth of Rex the dinosaur as cast members in fringed yellow checkered shirts, blue jeans, boots and red cowboy hats stare in stunned disbelief. Woody and Jessie look ridiculous sitting atop giant wooden Tinkertoy spools with Midway Mania guns mounted between their legs.

“Mickey wants to meet with you right now,” says a breathless Indy, making no pretense to stay in character or play along with the show.

“I’m kind of busy at the moment,” says a perturbed Woody. “In case you hadn’t noticed.”

Disney security halts the parade and surrounds the float. Guests stream video of the alarming incident on their smart phones. All is not happy at the happiest place on earth. In fact, all hell is breaking loose. Guests and cast members alike yell at Indy for ruining the show while others cheer the off-script deviation. Indy climbs onto the back of the big, green Tyrannosaurus to avoid the guards clambering onto the float.

“What do you want me to tell Mickey?” screams Indy, kicking and flailing as the guards pull him off the float.
 

Disney security throws Indy on the ground. A guard drives a knee in Indy’s back as another handcuffs the adventure-loving archaeologist. Lifting Indy roughly to his feet, a swarm of security guards haul him away through the jeering and cheering crowd. So much for the separation between backstage and onstage.

“Tower of Terror,” Woody yells above the din. “Right after the parade.”

“Oh no,” Indy says, comically trying to distract the guards in hopes they didn’t hear Woody. “Please don’t take me to the Disneyland jail.”