Ben

I recently wrote a two part piece about the horrors of dealing with disability issues in the parks as a Cast Member (Part 1, Part 2). As I was doing this, I had something bouncing around at the edge of my mind. I knew what it was too. It was a story I needed to tell.

This is not an easy story to write. It's a story that's mine and I have told very few, if any about it. If you ask me in person, I probably won't be able to talk about it. I felt I needed to get it out there in some form.

His name was Ben.

He was sitting in one of those giant Radio Flyer wagons, surrounded by stuffed animals and other toys. His dad was arguing with one of our engineers when me and my partner Steve came up from break to catch our train. Now this was back in the 90's, before there was a wheelchair ramp at Main Street Station.

As we walked up, the other engineer added us to the conversation about how there was no way we could get Ben's wagon on the train, and how it wasn't allowed, and on and on. Me and Steve cut our eyes at each other real quick and then told the engineer we would handle it and he could go on to break.

As soon as he was out of earshot, the dad started explaining "Listen guys, I know you have rules and..."

We stopped him right there.

"Oh no. He's getting on this train! Let us handle it."

Steve hopped up in the cab and backed the train up. I dropped the wheelchair gate and Ben's dad and I picked up his wagon (yeah, I know) and placed it in the box area. Then mom and dad climbed up there and I closed it back up.

What happened after that was about two hours of non-stop fun. He stayed in there waving and clapping at the whistles the whole time. We took pictures with him at every stop. Tons and tons of pictures. He watched with interest as I stood on top of the tender and filled the water, then jumped and giggled when I tossed a handful of water at him that splashed on the front glass.

He was our mascot for the night and you know what? During this time we never had another single wheelchair come up to be loaded.

We finally unloaded them back in Toontown so he could go see Mickey, but not without handshakes from dad and hugs from mom, and even more pictures.

It was a good night.

Summer became fall and before too long the Christmas season was upon us. I was patrolling Main Street station when an arm reached out of the crowd and spun me around. The next thing I know a photo album scrapbook was being thrust out at me. I took one look at the pictures and looked up immediately to see Ben's mom and dad. "Oh my God! Hey guys!" Then looking around, "Where's our little buddy at?"

"He didn't make it."

It didn't sink in what they meant right away.

I was at a complete loss for words. I had no idea Ben was that sick, or even terminal in any kind of way. They told me it was okay. They knew it was going to be one of the last trips they ever got to take with him. They just wanted to show me all the fond memories they had of that night. All those pictures...

And then they added: "He never stopped talking about the trains."

We looked all through the photos and laughed and smiled. They hugged each other and then hugged me before boarding the next train. As they rode out of sight, I thought about how these two parents have an album full of beautiful memories of their son, and I am in a lot of the pictures.

I held it together until my break time.

Then I found a quiet spot and cried.