Today’s column is dedicated to Austin Wuennenberg. In case you didn’t hear, Austin was a Monorail pilot at Walt Disney World and the first ever fatality in a crash involving the Monorail at the Florida resort.
At this time, Disney and authorities are still investigating the accident, in which one train ran into the back of another in the early morning hours of July 5th. Parents and many Disney regulars were stunned at the news that the previously infallible system could experience such an event. The ubiquitous transport mode was shut down after the crash and guests who may have previously taken the system for granted traveled by buses instead.
The startling news made me think of others taken for granted too.
From the bio posted in the news, it sounds like Austin had a lot of things going for him in the future. But on behalf of mothers everywhere, I’d like to thank him and the countless other Monorail pilots for the service they give on their way to getting somewhere else.
You see, the Monorail is hands down my son’s favorite attraction at WDW. And the job that Austin and many other college kids and retirees take to fill in time between now and then brings a smile to millions of young faces every year.
It may sound strange that in a whole amusement park of rides, shows and spectacles, a simple train ride is the highlight of my child’s visit. But, to paraphrase Lance Armstrong, it’s not about the monorail. It’s about the people in them.
It’s a poorly-kept secret that young children are honored guests on the futuristic Monorail system. Parents in the know jockey to take advantage of the special treatment offered, some waiting through several trains to get the right one. Going back to when I was kid, I remember huddling at the gate with my brother, anxious to see if the first car, the driver’s car, with its wide forward windows, was empty. What a thrill when it was!
Almost forty years later, I went to Disney with my four-year old son Severn and stood next to him as he fidgeted behind the barrier, almost unglued with excitement, chanting, “Can I? Can I?” “Wait and see,” I replied, desperately hoping the fabled car would be open.
And then the magic began. The sleek train slid almost soundlessly to a stop and my husband approached the driver with a question. It was almost like Christmas when the young cast member confirmed that that ultimate ‘sky box’ was available.
I know that the castle is now open on occasion for truly honored guests, but every child has a chance to feel special as they are ushered into the first car. A cast member, usually maybe only a bit more than a decade older, patiently answers numerous questions and demonstrates the controls. As the train pulls out of the station, he or she keeps up the camaraderie and entertains the kids with trivia and information about their trip. Every driver I can ever remember truly had a soft spot for kids. Clearly, even if driving a Monorail was a means to some other end, it was not just a job.
For the ten minutes or so he was cruising the highway in the sky with his new buddy at the controls, Severn was the happiest boy on earth. Even back home later, he talked incessantly about the experience — which led mom and dad to buy one of the miniature model set-ups of the Monorail you can buy at the gift shop as a Christmas gift. (You can have them shipped home so your child will never know).
Every trip has to end sometime, and as the train glides into our desired station, I smile knowing what almost certainly will come next, and I’m not disappointed. The young operator thanks my son for helping ‘drive’ the train and pulls out the honorary pilot’s license.
So for Austin, and Tim and Tina and Bob and Mary, and all the other Monorail drivers – thanks for making my son’s day. As a mother, I know one of the hardest jobs in the world can be making a child happy, and you do it every day.
