Orlando
I still can’t make sense of Central Florida’s geography. I probably could if I spent more time there, might be able to when I eventually get back, but even looking on Google Maps now—it’s hard to get a sense of where exactly I was for a weekend back in November 2020. Most people outside of the area would probably recognize Cinderella’s Castle well before they could identify Orlando’s skyline. And I’m sure that’s ok. Walt Disney World, its competitors, and all that comes along with them are the heart of the area’s economic engine. They’ve elevated the city and its surrounding region into a global destination. The ancillary world of Orlando—the space that exists between all the major destinations—is what held the most appeal to me, though.
It was the 2017 film The Florida Project that made me aware of this world. An area of themed dinner theaters, bootleg gift shops, and lesser-known tourist attractions. The movie is one of my favorites and it beautifully captures Rt. 192—the area’s principal tourist thoroughfare until the development of the more modern International Dr. What remains on “one ninety two” is a wonderful collection of “slightly charming kitsch” as my friend Sarah described it. She was kind enough to drive me around for a weekend, showing me her adopted home, as I burned through a few rolls of 35mm film. Even as a theme park veteran who very much appreciates Disney’s commitment to quality attractions and operations, it’s the “in-between world” of Orlando (and the city itself) that I found the most comfort in. Seeing Epcot (safely) for the second time in life was an amazing experience, but I prefer to make up elaborate backstories* about wizard-shaped buildings while sipping alcoholic beverages out of pineapples.
When I was 15, my parents took my sisters and I on an incredible trip to Walt Disney World (Sea World and the Kennedy Space Center too). We stayed in Florida for a week over Thanksgiving break, leaving behind bleak Ohio weather. There are a lot of amazing memories from that trip, but one that truly stands out is something seemingly innocuous. We were walking into a restaurant for the holiday dinner. Standing on the eatery’s patio, I looked out at the setting sun and just appreciated finding light and warmth in the middle of winter. I can still see that view clearly. Florida, sometimes rightfully so, is the butt of many jokes. But there’s something to be said about good weather year-round and the unique slice of American culture that’s been created in Orlando. Warts, wizards, mice, and all.
Until next time, Rt. 192.
Special thanks to Sarah for showing me around an amazing place and city with heartfelt enthusiasm and an honest perspective.
And thank you to Mallory, Marcus, and Missy for making me feel so welcome.
* The poor bastard depicted on the “Magic Castle” looks as if he’s been through some shit. He’s just resigned to the world after several battles with his rival: the wizard seen on the other “Gift Shop.” That old boy, conversely, has insanity in his eyes. His life narrative isn’t as deep as Harry Potter’s, but he’s been through it. Hogwarts’ student loans probably have incredible interest rates and the revenue from selling last season’s Disney beach towels probably keeps things tight. Both wizards never saved a world like Gandalf, but maybe one day they’ll learn it’s just as fulfilling to protect their respective parking lots from gators, snakes, and “the end is near” Bible-thumpers on the corner.