opinion

Rubin: If you’re talking Mickey Mouse, I’m all ears

The fellow at the next window when I checked in looked to be about 35 years old, and he was wearing Mickey Mouse ears.

They were particularly cool Mickey Mouse ears, I must say, shaped like the top of R2-D2’s little droid head from “Star Wars,” but with the familiar black circles sticking out.

He wore them with a certain panache and no self-consciousness whatsoever, because nobody looks silly in mouse ears at Walt Disney World.

Well, almost nobody. I did see a 50-ish woman at the Magic Kingdom who raised my eyebrows a bit, but I think that had more to do with her red Minnie Mouse tutu.

Still, it’s the perfect place to come as you are, and then turn into whoever you want to be.

I should point out that while Detroit is one of Disney World’s leading markets, I am not one of the annual-pass-purchasing, wedding-vow-renewing, map-of-every-square-inch-memorizing zealots.

Bless their hearts, but for my wife and me, it came down to a long weekend at Disney or the same four days in Las Vegas.

Bottom line, we decided we’d rather languidly suspend disbelief for a few days than accelerate toward cynicism. Hello Cinderella Castle, and see you down the road, Caesars Palace.

It was my first Orlando trip purely as a tourist in probably 25 years, and I came away with the same overarching impression I’d had when I delivered a nephew to a Disney internship five years ago:

These people are brilliant.

Beaming in princess dress

You can find waffles at Disney World shaped like Mickey Mouse — if not the whole rodent, then at least the iconic circular head with the two small circular ears.

You can find Crocs in the gift shop with Mickey-shaped holes on top instead of the usual round ones. Your maid will craft a Mickey out of a hand towel and two washcloths.

Children weep and their parents gush at the sight of him strolling the grounds, and they’ll stand in snaking lines for a photo.

The truth is, though, Mickey has been too busy being an icon these last few generations to actually be a star. He doesn’t make movies anymore, and you can’t really play with a Mickey toy the way you can Buzz Lightyear or one of the characters from “Frozen.”

But he’s the international symbol of fun, because the people behind him pay attention to their customers and to details.

They have studied how far people will walk with hot dog wrappers in their hands before they say to heck with it and toss them on the ground. That’s where the trash cans go.

They know how many people turn left at an interchange in a park and how many more turn right, and they make the right-hand pathway wider.

They move more than 50 million visitors a year across 43 square miles of park, a piece of land nearly the size of San Francisco.

Yet somehow, in hot, sticky, knife-fight weather, we barely saw a frown.

Exhausted kids, yes, and moderately frazzled parents, but so little ill temper that the absence stood out. As did this:

A woman in her early 20s, developmentally disabled and far younger inside. She was in a wheelchair, she was wearing a blue princess dress, and she was beaming.

A relentlessy inspired place

Walt Disney World opened in 1971, and in fairness, you can find lots of people who insist it’s a waste of a good swamp.

You are also welcome to blanch at the prices, which are considerable, or snicker at all the marketing tie-ins, like the Chip & Dale Spicy Mickey Mix of pretzels and nuts. And for all the rapture of little girls wearing Snow White dresses or re-watching “The Little Mermaid,” princesses are a $3 billion annual business.

On the other hand, guess how many people Disney World employs. Nope, higher. Try again.

OK, I’ll tell you: 70,000, and some of them will make you laugh even when they’re technically not supposed to.

As we drifted into a dark passage on the Jungle Cruise ride, our wisecracking river guide told us ominously, “You never know where this might lead.” Then he stopped himself.

“Who am I kidding?” he said. “This is Disney. It’s probably a gift shop.”

There actually is a gift shop next to the Winnie the Pooh ride called Hundred Acre Goods. In Downtown Disney, there’s a beauty salon for aspiring princesses called the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique.

It’s relentless and shameless, and it’s inspired. If Mickey is talking, I’m all ears.

nrubin@detroitnews.com

@nealrubin_dn