I’ve been going to Disney World since I was a kid, so walking into a refurbished Disney resort room should have been magical. Instead, it felt like I’d accidentally booked a layover at a mid-range airport hotel. The warm, themed details were gone no quirky lamps, no colorful bedding, barely even a hint of Mickey. Just beige walls, laminate floors, and furniture so minimal it could’ve been ordered in bulk from a catalog. It didn’t feel like a storybook escape; it felt like a corporate redesign committee won.
And then there’s the spray sunscreen situation. One afternoon, standing in line for Space Mountain, I got caught in a coconut-scented chemical fog from the family in front of me. Indoors. In an enclosed queue. I’m all for sun safety, but watching people spray half a can at point-blank range in crowded spaces is not magical.
Between the bland hotel rooms and inhaling aerosol SPF in line, I couldn’t help thinking Disney, you’re testing our loyalty here. We still love you, but please, bring back the magic and maybe keep the sunscreen clouds outside.
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