A few days ago, I went to Disneyland. I had been invited to Anaheim to give a speech about my books, and my wife and I decided to use the opportunity to take our boys on an early summer visit to the supposed happiest place on earth.
As long-time listeners of my podcast know, I spent the pandemic years, for reasons I still don’t entirely understand, binge-reading books about Disney (the man, the company, and the theme parks), so I knew, in some sense, what to expect. And yet, the experience still caught me by surprise.
When you enter a ride like Pirates of the Caribbean, you enter a world that’s both unnervingly real and defiantly fake, what Jean Baudrillard dubbed “hyperreality.” There’s a moment of awe when you leave the simulated pirate caverns and enter a vast space in which a pirate ship engages in a cannon battle with a nearby fort. Men yell. Cannonballs splash. A captain waves his sword. It’s impossibly massive and novel.
But there is something uncanny about it all; the movements of the animatronics are jerky, and the lighting is too movie-set-perfect. When you stare more carefully into the night sky, you notice black-painted acoustical panels, speckled with industrial air vents. The wonderment of the scene is hard-shelled by a numbing layer of mundanity.
This is the point of these Disney darkroom rides: to deliver a safe, purified form of the chemical reaction we typically associate with adventure and astonishment. Severed from actual fear or uncertainty, the reaction is diluted, delivering more of a pleasant buzzing sensation than a life-altering encounter; just enough to leave you craving the next hit, willing to wait another hour in a sun-baked queue.
Here’s the thought that’s tickled my mind in the days that have since passed: Disneyland provides a useful physical analogy to the digital encounter with our phones.
What is an envy-inducing Instagram story, or outrage-stoking Tweet, or bizarrely compelling TikTok, if not a delivery mechanism for a purified and diluted form of the reaction we’d otherwise generate by actually traveling somewhere stimulating, or engaging in real principled protest, or giving ourselves over to undeniably skilled entertainers?
The phone offers a pleasant chemical buzz just strong enough to leave us wanting another hit. It’s Pirates of the Caribbean delivered through a handheld screen.
I really liked Disneyland, but I was done after a couple of days. I also enjoy the occasional trip through the easy distractions of my phone, but I am unwilling to live semi-permanently amid its artificialities. The former is considered common sense, while the latter, for some reason, is still deemed radical.
I think your position might be somewhat radical for people born after 1985 or so. Exceptions are there but if you had the gift of living without the phone/social media distraction for a decade or two in the beginning, it can be easier to step away.
I love the Disney story (Walt, Roy, innovation, WWII work, etc.). The cost and time of the parks seem excessive. A trip somewhere is a better buy in my opinion.
Thanks for your work!
Well put Cal. I went to college at The University of Central Florida (Orlando, FL), and we received free tickets a couple of times a year, allowing us the opportunity to experience the park amongst our student body.
At first, same shock, blown away by the ability to just marvel in the world of play.
But that sensation goes away.
Since it’s been 13 years, I don’t even think of returning because I know what to expect. Much can’t be changed because it’s the same thing. As Charles Duhigg mentioned in his book Habit’s, we are in the “The Habit Loop”. Some of us seem to develop conscious to replace the unconcious, while most are allowing life to just happen versus asking themselves, “Is this what’s supposed to be going on?”.
Luckily, we have people like yourself who make efforts to remind us to think about these behaviors and habits from a metacognitive perspective.
I liken the way you deliver your thoughts to a phrase from a speech of Coach Michael Burt at the 2nd 10X growth conference “You can’t see the picture if you’re in the frame”.
Hope the speech went well in Anaheim.
Best,
Tim
This story reminded me of “Disneyland adults” and the requirement for some social media managers to be “chronically online” which is discussed by some professionals in the field as extremely harmful both professionally and health-wise.
At the same time – it would be prudent to persistently acknowledge the fact that places like Disney are nothing but elaborate ways to extract money from customers. They bill the whole thing as an “experience,” but in the end – it all boils down to making a profit.
Once you see all the various ways in which people, groups, companies, and governments go through great lengths to shroud the ways they are getting you to pay them for something, everything becomes clearer.
Most people like to outwardly justify parting with vast sums of money – and go out of their way to shout to the world how great it was (i.e., social media). And of course, it appears on paper at least that “experiences” might have some value (for your “street cred”) in the social media circles.
But all of it just prevents building generational wealth. Can’t see the forest for the trees, as they say.
Disney was such a blatant waste of money for our family. $1000 a day for a family of 5, plus food and other grossly over-priced garbage. To keep up with the Joneses. I tried my best to teach my kids that this is not a wise life goal to strive for.
Disney is the quintessential example of “Touristification,” a term coined by Nassim Taleb in “Antifragile.”
My hobby is storm chasing – in which there is actual fear and uncertainty!