locked out of happiness

Google Maps lies.

Not really. I just thought I would try out a little bit of the irrational vindictive that passes for popular discourse these days.

I will stick with the more-accurate "Google Maps occasionally contributes to false impressions." More accurate, but less effective as click bait.

I am in Los Angeles for a wedding. Coincidentally, the last time I was in Anaheim three years ago was for a wedding -- at the Disneyland park (love is stronger than your conflicts).

Today's wedding will be at a different venue, but I accidentally booked myself into a Marriott on the southern border of Disneyland. I also neglected to note that this is Memorial Day weekend.

You do not need me to help you inmagine the mayhem that comes from mixing a three-day weekend with children hyped up on the cocaine of meeting Mickey or Cinderella. It is almost as if someone had re-opened Studio 54 and staffed it with manic Munchins.

Because I have absolutely no need to visit the park on this trip. I decided to do something I have wanted to do for years. 

I often hear parents bemoan the 50 or so miles they must have walked while visiting the park. I have no idea how scientific those assertions are, but I have always wanted to walk around the outside of the park just to see how far it is. (That, of course, has nothing to do with the long-suffering parents who trudge around inside the rectangle.)

Based on past experience, I would have estimated the circumference to be between 5 and 6 miles. And that would have well-suited my morning 5-mile walk.

Because my hotel is on Katella, the street that forms the southern boundary of the park, all I had to do was to cross the street and start my journey. I mention crossing the street because once I was on the Disneyland-side of the street, traffic signals were no longer a problem. I suspect that was a traffic design by the park's engineers to expedite the entry of bulging wallets into the park.

I had hoped to catch a glimpse of some of the park's attractions, but the landscapers have created sight barriers that any North Korean would immediately recognize. "There is a better world behind those trees, but we are not allowed to see it."

The first line of Disneyland's national anthem is "The happiest place on Earth." And I know that for some people it is.

I have lots of friends in my age range who have sent me notes how they wish they could be in Disneyland today. Of course, unless they live in California, they cannot visit the park until the middle of June. And even Californians are required to go through a vetting system before they are admitted.

As I walked around the outside of the park, I started thinking about that "happiest place" claim. Even though I could not see any attractions, in several places I could hear the upbeat and cleverly-chosen music that is one of the park's atmospherics. It is almost like living your life to the soundtrack of Mulan.

Through the bushes, I occasionally saw mouse-eared children (and some adults pushing their way back across the Toyland border) jauntily walking along from one pleasure to the next. All at a price, of course.

All of the security surrounding the park is to ensure that anyone who wants to be in a happy place will need to part with a few dollars. A two-day ticket per person will set you back $290 (US).

That is not a complaint. Selling pleasure is what our culture does. And for some experiences, it comes at a premium. Especially when the experience itself is premium itself.

Somehow, I managed to avoid the lure of the lorelei, though. It helped that I am not Californian and that I will be attending a wedding in a couple of hours instead of searching for dark secrets in Cinderella's castle. There are those rumors concerning Snow White, you know.

Oh. I almost forgot. Google Maps. You now see how serious that hook was.

Google Maps gives the impression there is a pathway around the full perimeter of the park. It is a false impression, but it is one I drew myself. And I should have known better. 

The northeast side of the park is bordered by I-5. And freeways seldom serve the needs of walkers. When I got to the northeast corner of the park, I had to cross over the freeway and turn south on Harbor. Harbor then took me back across the freeway to the east side of the park, leaving a triangle like one of those odd loops in the Mississippi River that leaves parts of Kentucky stranded in Missouri.

And just how far is the perimeter walk?

I had severely over-estimated the distance. It is barely 3.5 miles. It was an interesting walk (which fathered an essay), but it was not sufficient to meet my morning walk requirement. 

I will give the walk (and perhaps Walt himself) credit that with one exception, traffic signals were not an impediment.

And for a walker who likes to keep up his pace, that makes it the happiest place on Earth to me.