Disneyland

Disneyland. The Happiest Place on Earth. It was one of those bright, bland beacons of unified humanity that was almost impossible to avoid. Theo and her dad had been there many times, but this was her first as a legal adult. They entered the legitimate way, paying the admission charge so they could get the wristbands and ride all the rides.

They went through the motions they had been through before, Theo leading and her dad tagging along. They didn't talk much. The lines were short, so they breezed through quickly, visiting the some attractions that once brought her joy: the Haunted Mansion, Small World, Pirates of the Caribbean, the Hall of Presidents.

But Disneyland at age 18 was a lot different than Disneyland at age 8. This time, there was no magic. It was all mechanical. Theo could see the hydrolics at work. She knew all the perceptual tricks so they didn't impress her anymore. When Abraham Lincoln stood to speak, she didn't see the President; she saw an audio-animatronic device, and a pretty clumsy one at that. Disneyland isn't much fun when you can see behind the facade and know how it works.

"Show me some of this trauma," she said, as they sat on a bench on Main Street USA. "You say it's everywhere."

"Do you want big trauma or little trauma?" he said.

"What's the difference?"

"Big trauma makes the newspapers. Little trauma doesn't, but it's far more pervasive and devastating."

"Show me big trauma," she said.

Her dad closed his eyes and searched. He winced a little then opened his eyes again.

"Okay," he said. "How about this?"

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