The opportunity to spend part of December in Orlando seemed like a no-brainer for three obvious reasons.
1. The National Center for Database Marketing conference is always a productive outing.
2. My beau Paul had never been to Florida and the timing was right to tie a mini-vacation into a business trip.
3. It was starting to get damn cold in New York.
So, with those thoughts in mind, we ventured to the sunshine state and the Walt Disney World Dolphin in the heart of mouse country.
For six days, our entire sensory and gustatory input was provided by the Walt Disney Co. If the mouse didn't approve it, we didn't experience it. Heck, if that ain't some kind of a marketing triumph, I don't know what is.
What follows are the thoughts of a marketing industry observer on her experiences in the Magic Kingdom.
(Warning: The faint of heart or those who become easily nauseated should put down this magazine. You must be this tall to read this column.)
* The three theme parks (Disney World, MGM and Epcot), the hotels, the water parks, Disney Village (a shopping and dining area), Pleasure Island (a neon-filled night spot) and every other aspect of the empire are truly retail wonders. Eat in a restaurant: buy the T-shirt. Watch a show: buy a mug. Ride a flume: buy a souvenir photo.
Those $10-a-pop photos in particular are a great gimmick. We actually did purchase the goofy one of us screaming like maniacs as we barreled down "Splash Mountain." Come to think of it, it's the only picture we have from our trip of the two of us together.
But personally, I think Disney's 25th anniversary decoration of Cinderella's Castle has ruined that commemorative photo marketing op. Instead of appearing quasi-majestic, it now looks like a big tacky birthday cake.
(Okay, we really passed on that picture because I was having a bad hair day. But the castle does look hideous.)
* The announcement of Wait Disney president Michael Ovitz's departure came while we were in Orlando, not that you'd hear it over any of the hotel "news" channels. Much to our shared disgust, we often found our tired minds mesmerized by the continuous loop of infomercials about the resort's entertainment, dining and shopping options. You are getting sleepy. You must watch ABC. You must buy more Hunchback of Notre Dame merchandise. Winnie the Pooh is god...
* Since this is a direct marketing publication, we should touch upon the mammoth database Disney World is building in conjunction with its anniversary celebration. Prior to their visit, many guests filled out a survey about their previous trips to the park and future vacation plans. The campaign must have worked, as many tourists were wearing buttons commemorating their first visit. I wonder how many more like me filled out a card but forgot to bring the certificate to Orlando to collect the premium.
* Everything imaginable - including food - is available bearing some sort of character crest. The most fun novelty junk food item we purchased was the Cruella De Vil chocolate chip cookies. ("They have spots like those little dogs!" proclaimed the box.) The worst was the Mickey Mouse cherry chocolate fudge. (The taste made visions of cough syrup dance in our heads.)
* Naturally, "101 Dalmatians" merchandise was everywhere. One odd item we found was a Cruella De Vii plush toy wearing a Dalmatian-spotted coat. "Did she win and get to skin the puppies in an alternate ending to the movie?" Paul jokingly asked a Disney Store sales clerk. "I don't think so," she said, looking dearly confused and horrified.
* Many Disney employees, in fact, seemed "not to get the joke," if you know what I mean. To be fair, the forced cheerfulness throughout their work day must blow out an inordinate number of brain cells. As a guest, I found it annoying that I had no idea who sincerely wanted me to have a nice day and who secretly wanted to tell the whole world to bug off because the ex-husband was late with the child support and little Billy had finger-painted the dog red and green for Christmas.
After a day or two of everyone being ultrapolite, it was actually a treat to hear a hotel employee drop her facade for a moment and bend our ear about an obnoxious guest. It was kind of like finally talking to a good telerep who knows when to veer from the script and speak like a human being.
Even the wake-up call was trying too hard. I picked up the receiver early one morning to hear a Tinker Bell-like recorded voice wishing me a "magical day as I returned from the land of slumber." I spend most of my waking hours in New York, so naturally my immediate reaction was to swear, slam down the phone and go back to sleep for an hour.
* One of life's sweet little coincidences happened while we Were in our room getting ready for dinner on our last night in Orlando.
Flipping around the television channels, we found a classic rerun of the Simpsons where the family vacations at Itchy and Scratchy Land, an empire-like theme park overrun with cheery employees and psychotic animatronic creatures.
It's a small world after all.
COPYRIGHT 1997 PRIMEDIA Business Magazines & Media Inc. All rights reserved.
COPYRIGHT 2004 Gale Group
