THOSE DISNEY DAYS...

My first encounter with Disneyland was at the age of two. According to my mother, I rode Space Mountain for the first time that day. At the conclusion of the roller coaster adventure, she turned to me, bracing herself for my terrified cries. My response was simply, “Let’s go again!”

I look back on that event as a very early proclamation of courage and self-confidence. I don’t know if I was a brave child in general, but I like to think that Disneyland taught me how to be courageous. Perhaps there are many more life lessons I can trace back to my experiences at the famous theme park.

Stop laughing.

I am feeling the need to clarify. I don’t own a Mickey Mouse watch. I don’t give a hoot about the latest collectible buttons. I’m not obsessed with the Disney DVD vault or how many rides I can fit into one day at the park.

The simple fact is that I grew up in Southern California and because of my proximity to the Magic Kingdom, have been there more times than I could possibly count: school field trips, birthday parties, family vacations, outings with friends. I know the twists and turns of the park paths as well as I know the street on which I grew up. Therefore, it is not a coincidence that many of my major life experiences have taken place there.

For instance, learning to flirt with boys.

When I turned 15, a birthday venture to the park awakened me from my all-girls Catholic high school seclusion. This enlightenment took place on a series of small safari boats called the Jungle Cruise, captained by the most sarcastic, flirtatious, and devastatingly handsome “bad boys” of the theme park. My friend, Alison, and I spent the entire day blushing and giggling as they winked and smiled in our direction before delivering their very serious spiels about the animatronic hippopotami blowing bubbles in the river.

A few years later, when I was a graduating senior in high school, I fawned over the lead guitarist in Jon Secada’s band when they performed during our Grad Night at Disneyland, convinced I was in love.

A few years after that, I actually did fall in love while ice skating on the outdoor rink at the Disneyland Hotel at Christmastime. Although the young man and I had only been dating a few months, I had a feeling it would last forever. The defining moment occurred when he turned to me and said, smiling and breathless, “Being with you is like being in a Disney movie!” I smiled knowingly, thinking to myself that this man totally understood me. Two years later, when the clock struck midnight on the eve of the millennium, I gazed up at the New Year’s fireworks and reached for his hand on my left. On my right, beaming proudly, was a statue of Walt Disney.

Of course, things change, even at Disneyland. I left for the east coast to pursue my acting dreams and returned seven years later to an entirely new park. My new apartment in Los Angeles, roughly 40 minutes away, gave me permission to up the ante on my Disney adventures: I now own an annual pass. In fact, everyone in my immediate family owns an annual pass. In fact, when I need to see my mother, who lives just north of San Diego, we meet up at our “halfway point,” a.k.a. the Disneyland park entrance. When my new boyfriend and I began dating, my first present to him on his birthday was his own slick wallet-sized card with mouse ears on it. “You’re official,” I said to him.

Perhaps the best aspect of being a frequent visitor to the park now is the lack of pressure to fit everything into one visit. Once my mother and I met at the park solely for the purpose of watching the popular nighttime attraction Fantasmic! We sat saving our seats for three hours before the performance, just catching up and eating clam chowder out of bread bowls. Then we went home, smiling and humming the princess songs.

Being a passholder also means visiting on days when I feel as though I have the entire park to myself. For instance, it’s a Tuesday in February and a friend of mine and I just don’t feel like going to work. All of a sudden, we’re strolling down Main Street or standing amazed in the Hall of Animation at Disney’s California Adventure with no one else around. That is where the fun of Disneyland lies: not in hurriedly trying to experience it all, but in feeling as if you truly have all the time in the world to enjoy what one might call a second home.

Again, don’t laugh. If you grew up in Southern California, it just might be a special place to you, too.

Just ask yourself: Have you ever rung the doorbell to the secret Club 33? Do you know where to go to get your birthday button? Where is Walt Disney’s eternal flame? Which attraction is the perfect place for a midday nap? How about the best place to make a wish? If you know the locations of all of the bathrooms without looking at a map, you probably grew up at Disneyland just like I did.

Today is my 33^rd birthday. I can’t think of a better place to celebrate, and perhaps gather a few more life lessons, than at Disneyland.

My first stop: Space Mountain. I am feeling particularly brave today.