I’m flying to Florida from Britain. To live. The thought of it makes me nauseous. As though I am walking away from a great museum to visit a theme park where nothing is real and all that appears to be real is an illusion.
A place where building sand castles on the beach is a method to distract you from what is going on in the real real world. Not the illusory construct of pickpockets and shady dealers who descend on the State to take advantage of those blinded by the sun and the hype.
This is where I am going. To live. To exist. To walk away from Britain, the greatest country in History.
Going. Fast. I’m lying to myself.
Greatest country in the world?
Was. And as the wheels lift off from the tarmac and we are sliding into the clouds I watch other aircraft land with people coming back from Disneyworld and other noble distractions. And the non English speaking bodies ready to take advantage of the softest Social security system in Europe. And they are welcomed even though they hate us. Just like Disneyworld. Except we give them our money. The changing face from glory to ogre and a mess that will remain.
Yes, the moms and dads and their ridiculous amount of luggage consisting of Mickey lego and Star Wars toys they could easily have bought in their local High Stores. But no, it’s special because they could feed the mouse and say hi to Minnie. With memories and less money and nobody but themselves really caring where they have been. And they can tell their co workers and families about the way they had to stand in line for Splash Mountain and how their beds weren’t properly made and no-one gives a flying fuck.
And they’ll go back the following year because they will be dragged by their ego and envy. And then one day they will be dead and gone but the Mouse will still be nibbling his cheese the little bastard and the Imagineers will have created some other spectacular ride that they will hype all over the world and at the end of the ride and the day it means absolutely nothing because it’s done.
Except for the new kids building sandcastles on Cocoa Beach as the pick pockets and shady dealers work out new ways to distract you while you are blinded by the sun and an ever growing ignorance. The pick pockets and shady dealers are the imagineers who leave the Theme Parks as holograms to sit beside you on the beach and talk directly to you through your 3D mobile phone and you are so immersed and fascinated by it all, night falls and the day is done and your money has disappeared along with the affection you should have shown your children unaware, that they are the pawns in the game that are always first to be destroyed.