It's Common Courtesy!

August 2011

They’ve changed a bit since I left, but Disney has some pretty strict appearance guidelines for cast members, covering a lot of topics:  tattoos, body piercings, hair style and color, makeup, eyewear (Yes, eyewear:  imagine dropping a couple hundred bucks on a new pair of prescription eyeglasses and being told they didn’t fit the appearance guidelines), and, for men, the amount and shape of one’s facial hair.

The upshot of all of this is that it’s pretty easy to spot someone who’s gotten into an area where they don’t belong–a Disney guest who has wandered into a ‘backstage’ (employees only) area.

Hiking back to the Theater of the Stars green room from the cast cafeteria, to-go box in hand, I slipped through the wall, past the ‘cast members only’ sign, and into one such backstage area, to be greeted by a gentleman who pretty clearly shouldn’t have been back there.

He looked less like a Disney cast member and more like the cast of Duck Dynasty.  Apart from the Larry-the-Cable-Guy-esque sleeveless flannel shirt, exposing arms absolutely covered with tattoos, he had the most fantastic mullet I’ve ever seen, as well as a long, scraggly beard that would make Gandalf proud.

He was sauntering back and forth, smoking a cigarette and making a phone call.

I figured it was best to address this quickly before he started wandering around and discovered where we keep the costumes/heavy machinery/pyrotechnics, so I waited a moment for him to finish the call, plastered on my best smile, and gave the standard Disney what-the-hell-do-you-think-you’re-doing opener:  “Hello Sir, is there something I can help you with?”

“No, ma’am,” he replied in a genteel drawl, taking a puff of his cigarette.

“Great!  This is an employees-only area, though.  Would you mind stepping back on the other side of that wall?”

“Well,” he began, taking one last drag of his cigarette and crushing it under foot, “my wife’s waiting for me on the other side of that wall, but I had to cut a fart, so I came back here.”

I could feel a snort building up.

I managed to squeak out, “That’s fine, Sir, have a magical day,” before I took off for the green room, making it safely out of sight before I collapsed in giggles.

The next show, my flatulent friend was front row center.  Lumiere lit a match for him.