Person on the Page

The shuttle bus eased to a stop. As the doors slid open, everyone rushed to deboard. Everyone, that is, except me. I had learned to stay out of the way.

By Day Three of a four-parks-in-four-days whirlwind adventure at Disney World, I knew that if I tried to leave whatever conveyance I was on in the order in which I was seated — whether bus, van, boat or monorail — people would rush ahead of me and sometimes even shove me out of the way. Kids, young adults, couples, families with small children — all of them hurrying around me in anticipation of the colors, sounds, tastes and thrills of a mid-March Orlando day at a theme park.

I soon suspected that to all of these folks, I was invisible. Or perhaps just in the way.

My husband of two years had been planning this trip for months. He wanted to treat his son, daughter-in-law, and two grandsons — ages seven and 11 — to an experience that we could share and enjoy. For the grandkids, he wanted to create memories that they would cherish long after Grandpa was gone. I got it. And as the new wife and step-granny, I fully supported the plan.

I must confess, though, that I am not really a Disney kind of girl. I’m more one to partake of a yoga retreat, or wander leisurely through botanical gardens, or tour graveyards where my ancestors are buried. I don’t like crowds. Flashing lights, noise, standing in lines to board dizzying rides and eating grab-and-go food while on the move are not my preference. But I wanted to be a good sport and help to make it the best possible vacation for my husband and his family.

On our first day when the shuttle arrived at the Animal Kingdom Park, I learned that things were different from long ago when I was at tourist spots vacationing with my own children. Instead of allowing me space to get off the bus at what seemed to be my turn, people skirted around me, whisking their backpacks, bags of souvenirs, strollers and other belongings by me as they went.

I learned that I was different, too. After the first bus ride, I started hanging back. Instead of asserting my right to my space and my turn in line, I waited. I watched the bustling life around me and allowed others to hurry off in their various directions before I made my way to the exit.

I realized that I was somehow a different person from that young mother long ago and that the people around me perceived me differently than my fellow travelers once had. Did they see an old woman who was likely to slow down their day if they didn’t get ahead of me? Am I really moving slower now than I used to? Am I really an old woman, as I imagined they assumed?

Are People Different Now?

I refuse to believe that people are different now than they were when I was younger. I won’t fall into the trap of thinking that things were better back in the olden days. That people had more respect for their elders back then. It would be easy to say that. But people are people. Human nature is the same as it always was. Even in the current political climate where the prospect of the strong eating the weak is championed by some, I refuse to believe anything other than that people are inherently good and that empathy is an inborn human attribute.

So, I won’t believe that I was brushed aside by my fellow vacationers because people today lack compassion. I’d wager that if I had been having a medical emergency on one of those shuttle buses, someone would have come to my aid. People would have cared enough to help. They would not have trampled me in their urgency to ride Space Mountain or Tron Lightcycle Power Run. They wouldn’t have left me in need out of their desire for their children to see Mickey Mouse in person.

The people around me meant no harm. To them, though, a person of my age may have been seen more as an obstacle than a person. Someone consigned to the fringes rather than allowed space in the middle of the fun. Someone to be left behind.

Just How Different Am I?

I am grateful that, even though I’m older now, I am still quite mobile. In fact I kept up with my new family admirably on this vacation, walking miles and miles through the parks every day without a stumble or a plea for rest. No special consideration had to be taken for me; no one had to wait around for me to catch up.

So, what was different?

While I felt confident about my ability to walk unlimited distances every day, I have to admit to myself that I felt less confident about navigating crowded buses and monorails. I was concerned that I might not be as agile as I once was and that I might stumble into someone.

Also, I felt the need to be cautious as I boarded and deboarded these conveyances. I can climb stairs, but do I climb them as well as I used to? Might I misstep and fall? And if I did, would I cause people behind me to fall over me?

Considering the urge of the crowd to push past me and my own self-doubts about my agility, I paused. For me, hanging back and letting others go ahead of me seemed right. Who needs to be the first one off the bus anyway? Who needs to claim a space in line?

Letting the world of rushing people move on without me seemed fine.

The grandkids had a wonderful vacation. They constructed lightsabers at Hollywood Studios Park, attended some stellar shows and experienced a host of wild and watery rides. Their grandpa treated them to whatever snacks and souvenirs they desired each day, and he obviously delighted in their enjoyment. And that’s what matters.

At the end of Day Four of our adventure, we rode the shuttle bus back to the resort. I sat near the back of the bus just ahead of young parents with two boisterous sons and an infant daughter. As we rode, the mother held the infant, the father steadied the stroller and the boys popped in and out of their seats restlessly.

When the bus stopped and the doors opened, the two boys rushed to deboard. Their father said to them, “Boys, let the lady ahead of you go first.” They stepped back and made space for me to exit.

I would have been satisfied to sit and wait for the family to get themselves and their stroller off the bus before me. I had learned that for me it was best to let the world rush on before me. Nothing wrong with my taking things a little slower.

Still, though, the young father’s insistence that I go before them made me feel good. At least on that day, on that bus, I was not as invisible as I thought.

. . . . .

Photo: Spaceship Earth at EPCOT Park (Property of Author)