Crowds

“If you’re not so busy judging and resisting people based upon what is blocked inside of you, you will find that they are much easier to get along with — and so are you. Letting go of yourself is the simplest way to get closer to others.” - Michael Singer, “The Untethered Soul”

I don’t like crowds. Waiting in long lines. Excessive heat. Or heated crowds in long lines.

Or overpriced food. Unless it’s a soft pretzel. I have paid a lot of money for a warm, soft pretzel with beer cheese. Mmmmm.

But that’s not why I’m here, writing to you on Thanksgiving.

A couple of days ago, my family and I went to Dollywood. The Monday before Thanksgiving is apparently the most crowded day ever at Dollywood. Like all year. The six-mile drive from our cabin took an hour. There were so many lines. And it was a lot of money. The tickets, the TimeSaver pass, the parking, the overpriced foods. I could go on and on and on.

Amusement parks are not my jam. The older I get, the more I find great joy in silence, space and solitude. But I have kids, and they love amusement parks. They also love water parks, riding Go-karts, loud arcades and anything that is flashy and full of people.

My perfect day is the four of us in a wide-open space with a cool breeze and animals somewhere. When my son asked if I wanted to hike up the hill to the swing that overlooks the Smokey Mountains, I couldn’t go fast enough. When my husband wanted get up early to hike up a mountain for his birthday, I was so excited. When we took the Scenic Chairlift up the side of a mountain at Ober Mountain in Gatlinburg, I was in heaven. It was slow, quiet, outside and we even saw a bear walk up the mountain.

When my daughter was two years old, my husband and I decided it would be a good idea to take her to Disney. In June. With the rest of the world.

Somewhere between Magic Kingdom and Animal Kingdom and me hangrily telling the woman from Japan behind me that Mickey Mouse wasn’t real while we were standing in line for 45 minutes so my daughter could hug the Mouse and this young woman could get the Mouse’s autograph, I had a meltdown.

My toddler daughter – whose curly hair was frizzy from the sweat and face was beat red from the summer Florida sun, was fine. Joyful. Lovely. Patient. Me, not so much. My husband and I celebrated our anniversary, sweaty and tired in the parking lot to board the tram, when my husband, who was angrily pushing the stroller, turned to me and said, “I’m never coming back here with you.” If Mickey Mouse ran a Magic Kingdom Divorce Court, I’m pretty sure our marriage would have ended that day, on our anniversary. I was a complete and utter asshole.

My love for our daughter was greater than my dislike of crowds, heat, lines and commercialism, but not by much. That trip was 13 years ago, and the most potent memory I have was our fight in the parking lot of Animal Kingdom. We spent a fortune on that trip, and I ruined it.

We went back to Disney in November 2020, this time as a family of four, with kids who were 8 and 11, fully masked. Our trip was planned pre-COVID and postponed once. Instead of postponing it again, we decided to mask up and go. The crowds were minimal, and the heat was bearable. I was ashamed enough of my behavior from our previous Disney trip, that I made sure to keep myself in check. I can honestly say that I enjoyed that trip and my favorite moments were standing in line with my family, looking at their faces, knowing that their childhoods were the literal fast passes. I still had moments of frustration like when I only had one teeny, tiny meltdown, in line for The Seven Dwarfs Mine Train. But the mask helped mask my feelings and we left that trip with sore legs and full hearts.

It's important to note that I planned both of those Disney trips because my husband and kids love this stuff. But showing up righteous in my effort but critical of everything around me, did no one any favors.

This time, when we booked tickets to Dollywood, I was determined to show up differently. Thankful that my husband was driving, I used the hour drive to meditate and be present. I noticed the colorful leaves on the trees and the bluebird skies. I had a couple of anxious moments when I saw the line of cars, slowly snaking around and around to the entrance but remembered that they too had tickets to the park and were excited to be there with their families.

When we got out to walk the 15 minutes from our car to the tram, I focused on how many steps I logged. I enjoyed the breeze, chatting with my kids and husband, dodging cars and hopping over rocks. When we got inside the park, I took a few deep breaths as swarms of people filled every inch of the entry to the park, and I thought about their journey, too. Some families wore matching T-shirts with funny Dolly Parton puns (my favorite was “Have a Holly Dolly Christmas”). While the old me would have rolled my eyes at those shirts, I pictured all those family members getting dressed in the morning and how special this day, in this park, was for them. I noticed the little kids, dancing next to their parents, holding bubble makers, pressing the buttons and spreading bubbles into the crowd behind them. Instead of swatting the bubbles away, I watched and smiled as they floated away. I loved the twinkling lights, the butterfly tree, the couple taking a photo in front of the white chapel decorated for Christmas. I enjoyed the time in line with my family, proud of my son who was afraid to ride upside down roller coasters and did it anyway, excited for my adventurous daughter and husband. I saw myself in every person in that park, someone who wanted to create and enjoy an experience for their family. I was thankful for my health, that I could walk all day and that we could afford this trip and had the energy to go there. I smiled at moms pushing strollers up hills, remembering my days of pushing my kids in their strollers. I snuggled close to my husband when we listened to the acoustic blue grass band.

I didn’t grumble at the cost of the pizza or scowl at people when they walked on the left side of the path instead of the right side. I just enjoyed being. Being with my family. Being outside. Being in a crowd. Being on rides that I would have never chosen to be on. I don’t think I will ever be someone who fully enjoys crowds or rides, but I love my family, and I love being part of something bigger than myself. When I stopped resisting what was around me, I finally saw the beauty that had always been there.

  November 28, 2024