The Dark Side of Disney

by Leonard Kinsey

  As mentioned before, pay via PayPal using your credit card so you can do a chargeback if necessary.

  Once you find a trustworthy owner, stick with them! If you have a good renting experience, you should always contact that owner about upcoming vacations to see if they have points or reservations available.

  If you’re still feeling a bit queasy about renting points, there is an alternate way to do it. You can use a 3rd party service, such as David’s Vacation Club Rentals, at www.dvcrequest.com/ . David acts as the middleman between you and the owner, and thus you’re paying him, not the owner. It’s almost like an escrow account. David deals with all of the contracts, and has a bank of owners he works with who he knows are trustworthy. However, you definitely pay for this added layer of security: David charges $13/point, which is a premium of $3-$4 over what you’d normally pay. It’s still quite a bargain, but to be honest, if you take the precautions listed above, I just don’t think it’s necessary.

  PARK TICKETS

  Sneaking In:

  It’s a warm August morning in 1995 at EPCOT. Three of us, all college age nerds, stand in front of the ticket kiosks, marveling at the ticket prices, which had been significantly cheaper just weeks before.

  “Fuck this,” says Newmeyer, a longtime friend and fellow Disney addict. “I can’t afford this shit anymore!” He’s wearing a black trenchcoat, a black fedora, and a patchy beard; not exactly inconspicuous in the middle of the summer, even in these pre-Columbine days.

  McGeorge, a wiry MacGyver look-alike, stares at Newmeyer. “What can you do?” he asks. “If we want in, we gotta buy a ticket!”

  “I’m jumping the gate!” Newmeyer proclaims, loud enough for everyone in the near vicinity to hear. And he proceeds to stand at the gate on the far right side of the entrance (where the laundry carts used to come in and out) for a good half hour, getting up the nerve. McGeorge and I watch, knowing that this is more exciting than Spaceship Earth, at least for the moment.

  Finally, Newmeyer calmly opens the gate and saunters into the park. He turns around and gives us the thumbs up. McGeorge and I look at each other with a “What the fuck? Why have we been paying for tickets?” look.

  Ten seconds later two security officers wearing Hawaiian shirts walk up alongside Newmeyer and casually take his arms, leading him backstage. He looks back at us in panic before he disappears behind a façade of manicured plants. This being pre-cellphone days we simply wait outside the park entrance, passing the time by telling confused tourists that “the entire park is inside the big golf ball.”

  Hours later, Newmeyer reappears, disheveled and wiping away tears. “I’m banned from the parks for life,” he sobs. “I can’t ever go back! They took my picture, they took my fucking fingerprints, they made a copy of my driver’s license, they took my social security number…. They’ll send me straight to jail if I come anywhere near here again!”

  “Ah, that’s bullshit,” we say, patting him on the shoulder. “Out of all of the people who come here every day, how are they going to keep you out?”

  Newmeyer is consoled, and we go back to our off-site hotel, get drunk, and try unsuccessfully to score chicks. The next day we buy tickets for Disney/MGM Studios and Newmeyer gets in with no problems. He promptly forgets about the whole “banned for life” thing.

  Four years pass, and Newmeyer calls Disney Reservations to book his honeymoon, asking for a room at the Caribbean Beach Resort for him and his soon to be wife. “Hold for a minute”, the cast member says after he gives his address and credit card number.

  Minutes pass. Newmeyer gets a weird nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Something’s going on here…” he thinks as he nervously chews the end of the pen he’s holding.

  A different person comes on the line. “Sir, we’re trying to verify your credit card information. Did you used to live on xxxx,” asks this stern new voice, reciting Newmeyer’s address from four years ago.

  “Yeah, sure,” says Newmeyer, slowly. He jolts as that nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach suddenly turns into a full blown memory. “Oh, shit, you have got to be kidding me….” he whispers, feeling sick.

  “Sir,” says the voice on the line, “I must inform you that you are not welcome on Walt Disney World property. If we find that you are on the property during these dates, you will be arrested for trespassing.” The connection drops abruptly, and Newmeyer is left to tell his fiancé how her dreams of a Disney honeymoon are shattered.

  As my dumbass friend Newmeyer clearly illustrated, unless you want to risk being banned for life and arrested, you need a ticket if you want to get into the parks. Let it be known that this book does not endorse sneaking into the parks! However, if you still insist on sneaking in, here are some tips:

  The aforementioned trio of Newmeyer, McGeorge and I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to find “back entrances” to the WDW parks. We actually trod through a swamp at one point, thinking that it would lead to an unguarded area of one of the parks, when actuality we came right up against a razor wire topped fence. The only legitimate back entrances are there for employees, and those are heavily guarded by multiple security gates. So scour Google Maps all you want, but trust me when I say that the perimeters of the parks are secured.

  Years ago you used to be able to stand outside the exit gates and ask paying guests for their ticket stubs as they left the parks (or you’d just dig in the trash for them). You could then go to the entry gates to gain “re-entry”, and when the attendant unsuccessfully checked your fluorescent handstamp under the blacklight you’d have to try to convince them that you must have washed it off. Now, with the new biometric finger scanning system, they don’t fall for this shit anymore. Finger doesn’t match, no handstamp, no fucking way you’re getting in. We actually went so far as to “borrow” a handstamp from behind an unmanned gate at one point, but again, it’s unlikely this trick is going to work now that the finger scanners provide a second layer of bullshit detection.

  All of the parks now have security people checking bags at entrances. If you try to sneak past security you will be immediately arrested. Go through like everyone else, and try not to look suspicious (i.e., don’t wear a black trench coat and a fedora). Don’t try to carry in any weapons or alcohol.

  Once you get past security, the gates at the parks stretch for quite a distance, usually with the entrances in the middle, and exit gates on the far left and right. Thus, for gate jumping you have two options:

  1. Sneak in through the exits.

  Depending on the time of day there could be anywhere from 1-5 exit gates open. Obviously you’ll want to go later in the evening when there are fewer employees per gate, and more people are leaving so you can get lost in the crowd. You’ll want to go through the handicapped entrance as opposed to jumping the turnstile.

  Honestly the only time jumping the exit gates is going to be even slightly non-risky is right after Illuminations/Fantasmic/Wishes ends, and the parks are clearing out. But at that point, why are you even bothering? In fact, a CM tells me that anytime after the evening entertainment finishes is essentially “open gate time” because they need all available manpower to herd people out of the park. So if you really just want to visit the park for 30-45 minutes, nobody is going to try to stop you from walking in at the end of the night.

  Magic Kingdom Exit Queue

  Epcot’s Entrance queue – the far right is the service entrance

  Disney Hollywood Studios Entry Gate

  As an aside, there is no good time to jump the exit gates at Animal Kingdom because it closes too early, and there is no big event at the end of the evening to cause massive exit crowds.

  2. Sneak in through the entrances.

  “I don’t like hearing about people jumping the turnstiles,” a CM told me. “Too many times I’ve seen kids jump the turnstiles and they end up kicking the gate attendants in the process, sometimes on purpose. A lot of the attendants are older folks, and I’ve seen them get seriously hurt. It
ends up looking like a scene from “Clockwork Orange”, with these sad old people lying on the ground bleeding, and a bunch of hooligan kids running off laughing. I don’t care as much that these kids are getting in for free, because they probably wouldn’t have paid regardless, but when they start hurting other Cast Members, that’s when I get mad.” Moral of the story: don’t jump the turnstiles – use the handicapped gates instead! Oh, and don’t kick old people. Unless they deserve it.

  Don’t kick old people!

  Unfortunately for Disney’s bottom line, this method of sneaking in seems fairly foolproof. Especially in the mornings during holidays there is simply no way you can be stopped if you decide to walk through a handicapped entry gate. The gate attendant will yell at you to stop, but assuming you’ve worn non-descript clothes you will blend into the crowd in a millisecond.

  I’ve personally seen this method used many times, and the best part is it’s usually done by foreign tourists who have no intention of sneaking in, they’re just oblivious to their surroundings and think they’re bypassing the first of many long lines!

  Honestly, sneaking into the parks is just plain stupid unless you’re only there for a day and don’t care if you get kicked out. Because do you really want to spend every day of your vacation worrying if that’ll be the day you go to Disney Jail? Wouldn’t you rather just pay for tickets (a relatively small amount compared to the rest of your vacation expenses) for some peace of mind?

  Then again… go ahead and do it! Sneak in, get caught, and take pictures of Disney Jail for me so that I can exploit the fruits of your misfortune in the next edition of this book!

  That said, there are ways you can get free tickets to WDW, which is almost the same as sneaking in, except it’s (mostly) legit. You have two options for free tickets: 1) timeshare presentations, and 2) becoming good friends with a 15-Year+ cast member.

  Free Tickets from Timeshare Presentations:

  Do you have nerves of steel and the willpower of an annoying mule who won’t move no matter how much you yell at him? Do you not mind wasting hours of your precious vacation touring a resort that can’t hold a candle to any of the WDW Deluxes and listening to a greasy salesman who is going to berate and insult you? Do you really, really, really not want to pay for your tickets? Well then, you might be a perfect candidate for a Timeshare Presentation!

  Drive down International Boulevard and you’ll see plenty of booths advertising these things. Or just go to the lobby of one of the multitude of cheap off-site motels and they’ll likely have a kiosk promoting “FREE DISNEY TICKETS!!!” Tell the person at the booth or kiosk that you’re interested in attending the timeshare presentation, and they’ll tell you when and where to go. Make sure you get the details up front! Usually you AND your spouse need to attend, and in return for 90 minutes of your time you’ll get two free tickets to a WDW park. If these conditions are not specified in writing, move onto the next booth.

  But getting into one of these presentations is the easy part. Getting out is the chore. My wife and I discovered this unpleasant dichotomy when we went on a timeshare presentation pretty soon after we were married. We didn’t have a lot of spending money, so free tickets seemed like a great way to have some extra cash for a romantic dinner at La Cellier. Wrong!

  We scheduled a presentation with a company who’d sent us a mailer months earlier and they told us they’d pick us up at our Disney resort, so we didn’t even need to rent a car. Since we’d used DME, renting a car to get free tickets wouldn’t have made much financial sense. But we learned the first lesson of timeshare presentations: Never, EVER get into a car with your salesman!

  Anyway, the sales guy drives up in a nice BMW, and he’s got this charming Greek accent and is wearing a white suit and looks like George Hamilton, except not quite as leathery. So there goes my wife, right? She’s fawning all over him, and I have to admit the guy is pretty suave. We get in the car and he actually seems nice and he shows us pictures of his family and then tells us how he was a double-agent spy for the UK in Greece, which doesn’t make much sense, but why would someone lie about that? And then I realize I’ve been sucked in by this guy and we’ve already driven 35 minutes and I have no idea where we are! Like, we’re in the middle of a swamp somewhere!

  I’m a little freaked now, but I try my best to calmly ask George Hamilton where the fuck we are, and he says, “Oh, we’re almost to the resort,” but it comes out sounding more like, “Oh, we’re driving out to a secluded location where I can rape you and your wife and then feed you to the alligators!” I look at my wife with an “oh shit!” expression and she’s still looking at George with googly eyes but then she sees my expression of horror and suddenly snaps out of it, looks out the window at our desolate surroundings, and then she starts freaking out a bit, too.

  Just as I’m about to fucking karate chop George in the throat and steal his car, we actually do pull up to a “resort”. The first thing we see is this really nice St.Augustine sort of old-Spanish building with a bunch of balconies overlooking a big lake with a boat dock. It’s pretty impressive. Except then it becomes plainly obvious that there’s this one nice building in the center and then a bunch of dilapidated husks of identical buildings around the rest of the lake, all abandoned and overgrown and looking like they’re covered with mildew or something. It’s creepy.

  George walks us into the main building and into a big conference room, where there are a few other couples who have obviously been here a while. He offers us some sodas and cookies, and tells us that now we’re going to “get down to business”. So he goes through this whole spiel that sounds like an awesome deal, and I’m almost convinced, but then I remember that a) we have no money, and b) this place is in the middle of nowhere and most of the buildings are in ruins, and there’s no fucking way I’d ever want to vacation here. Which I pretty much tell George, in so many words.

  Well, he’s not fazed a bit. He cuts the price by 50% and starts going on about how we can trade into other resorts all around the world, blah blah blah. We hear a champagne cork pop a few tables over as a beaten-down couple celebrates their new major investment. George looks agitated, and it goes downhill from there. Long story short he keeps talking, I keep saying “no”, he drops the price like eight more times, I still say, “no”, and he gets increasingly angry and starts going on about how he has to feed his kids, and how I’m making them starve or some such nonsense.

  That’s when I look at my watch and notice three hours have gone by since we left our resort. Now I’m pissed. I tell George flat out that we’re not buying a timeshare at this dump, and that if I wanted to buy a timeshare to begin with I’d do it on eBay where I can literally get it for a penny, and that we just want our Disney tickets and want to go back to our resort.

  Now he’s really fuming but I can tell he doesn’t want to freak out in front of the other couples, so he says “Fine, come with me to get your tickets,” and brings us into a small office where another guy is sitting behind a desk.

  This office looks like it’s from the 50s with dirty wood paneling and a rusted metal desk, and the guy behind the desk has a bad toupee that also looks like it’s from the 50s. My wife and I sit in equally rusty chairs as George looms behind us, arms crossed. So then toupee guy proceeds to basically yell at us for ten minutes about how we’re shitty people because we’ve wasted George’s time and now he might get fired and he’s yelling at me about how I’m a cheapskate, and it’s really pretty awful and my wife is crying but I don’t want to hit the guy because I want to get out of there with our Disney tickets and if I knock him out we probably won’t get them! So I just sit there and smile and finally he stops yelling and I calmly say, “I want my goddamned tickets, and I want to go back to our resort now or I’m calling the police and telling them you kidnapped us.”

  Well, this shuts toupee guy up, and he slams down two vouchers (not even tickets) on the metal table and rust flies up everywhere. “Here’s your goddamned tickets you motherfuckers!�
�� he’s yelling, beet red. “But we’re not driving you back! Read the contract, it says nothing about return transportation! Hahaha! Now get the hell out of my face!” he screams as his toupee flops around, and he points to a door. Him and George are laughing and calling us “motherfuckers” as we walk out of the door, which leads to a rickety fire escape ladder which ends next to a dumpster with what looks like a swamp around it.

  So we finally get down there and our shoes and socks are ruined from the swamp mud and I end up calling our resort back at Disney because I have no idea where we are and I’m not sure what else to do. Luckily they know exactly where we are, obviously having received this same phone call many times, and call a cab for us. The cab ends up costing over $120, which is almost as much as the fucking tickets cost (more if you count our ruined shoes). We end up getting back to our resort almost 6 hours after we’d left, so we basically wasted a whole day of our vacation. Plus, we missed our La Cellier reservations. FAIL!

  My wife and I laugh about it now, but at the time it wasn’t funny and nearly ruined our vacation. Totally not worth it. Although, from what I’ve been told the DVC tours are quite nice, the sales people are ultra-low pressure, and you even get ice cream and Fast Passes. But they still get pissed if you tell them you’re going to buy resale instead.