On the internet, however, being a Disney adult is nothing short of an embarrassment. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a $17 oversalted margarita. I’m one of those people who scream “Bob and weave! Bob and weave!” when trying to navigate my family through the swells of humanoid mozzarella sticks on Main Street, so we can make our 6:30 dinner reservation at the Mexico pavilion at EPCOT. And I’ve adopted a strategy of Germanic efficiency toward conquering the massive crowds and wait times at the U.S. I have strong opinions on various developments in the theme park ecosystem: the rebranding of Splash Mountain (staunchly pro!), the new exorbitantly priced Star Wars resort (con), the new Genie + ride reservation system (con, and which I feel more passionately about than most voting-reform legislation). I have seen all of the movies multiple times, and enjoy most of them at least a little bit. By all reasonable definitions and standards, I am a Disney Adult.
