Five minutes before closing time, we rushed past Sleeping Beauty's Castle with been-there, done-that indifference.
Dodging all the families headed for the exit with sagging mouse ears and similarly deflated kids, we rushed up to the Big Thunder Mountain roller coaster, running on more energy than we had coming through the gates 11 hours earlier.
"We made it!" beamed my 6-year-old daughter, whose idea it was to try to cram in one more "thundering" ride before closing time.
Yes, we finally made it. After several years of hemming and hawing and pretending our daughters would rather see picturesque beaches and museums and ungentrified parts of cool American cities, my wife and I heeded the call to take them to the Happiest Place on Earth. If we were going to let Walt Disney's merchandising empire suck us in, though, we insisted on doing it our way: fast, easy, relatively cheap, bada-bing, bada-boom.
We didn't want to plan a whole week or entire vacation around a Disney trip. We didn't want to spend the kind of money that would otherwise get us across an ocean for another vacation. And above all else, we didn't want to spend a majority of our time there waiting in lines.
All of those qualifiers led us to the original Disneyland Park in Anaheim, Calif., in the middle of a week in the middle of January.
Based on the many Disney-related advice blogs — and common sense — we knew this would be a low-traffic time at the park. Other good down times include late April to late May and most of autumn, especially weekdays. What else are your local school district's random, non-holiday vacation days good for?
We also liked the idea of hitting the original, classic, more dated but less bloated Disneyland park vs. the Disney World mega-complex in Orlando. The nostalgic value attracted us, but so did the compactness.