It’s my first day of training at Disney World Orlando, and I am learning how to be Pooh, a big yellow bear who is constantly reminded by guests that he’s not wearing pants. I’ve almost perfected the walk, but these boxy feet are giving me shin splints.
Soon I’ve successfully mastered talking, signing and acting like every character in my height range. If I can prove myself as a fur performer, they’ll upgrade me to a face character, transitioning me from cartoon animal costumes to talking human icons. I have my fingers crossed, because it’s autumn, and despite the cool breeze coming in through my mouth, sticky sweat is pouring out of everywhere else. It’s so hot that the pregnant Donald Duck standing across from me just passed out, and I am not far behind. Welcome to the most magical place on Earth!
Though I grew up on Disney films, I never imagined myself working for the Mouse. When I was 7, my grandmother made me chop my hair into a bowl cut before she would take me to Disney World. I spent the entire day crying and now I can’t clearly recall a single thing that happened while we were there.
When I was 13, my grandparents enrolled me in vocal lessons with a woman I would later consider a second mother. During our 12 years together, her daughter became a professional singer and started working at Disney as a stage performer before moving on to Broadway and producing her own albums. When it was suggested that I follow in her footsteps, I leapt at the opportunity to move away from home.
