The Magic Kingdom, Disney World, Florida is such a violent battle between cynicism and innocence that a writer’s head may blow off. There are three Disney parks within screaming distance and beyond that, the wastelands of America. If it feels as though it sprouted out of the swamp fully formed, that is because it did. At the centre is Cinderella’s castle, modelled on Mad Ludwig of Bavaria’s Neuschwanstein, but madder. At the gate, a bag search. Your bag will be searched, even though you cannot fit a Kalashnikov inside a Goofy rucksack. Inside, a sign: ‘Meet the fairies. Wait time — 45 minutes’.
Some days 100,000 people come here, and there are queues, fights, deaths. Because America believes in the free market, there can never be enough magic for everyone; demand must outstrip supply. I head to Space Mountain, an indoor rollercoaster in Tomorrowland. It is horrible, like being trapped in a moving coffin.
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