If you’re going to puke at Disney World, Disney’s Hollywood Studios is apparently the place to do it.
We learned this after Tank vomited dramatically in the middle 4 o’clock performance of the Indiana Jones Stunt Spectacular. He’d been complaining of a tummy ache throughout the late morning and afternoon, but when that blast of heat from the exploding truck hit him, it was all over. I swiftly removed him from the show, cleaned him up in the next door restaurant’s bathroom, then watched in horror as he got sick all over the restaurant floor. He was rewarded with another sponge-down, a Sprite to sip on, and a fresh new Indiana Jones t-shirt. We figured he’d earned it.
The poor kid continued to ralph every 30-90 minutes, dozing in between, for the rest of the evening, managing to get tidily and quietly sick into an assortment of small, plastic Disney bags. We had reservations at the Hollywood Brown Derby (in Hollywood Studios) at 6:45 and were in a bit of a panic over what to do about the sleeping Tank, in his giant rented double stroller. Enter St. Alma.
Alma was the hostess at the Brown Derby that evening. She was a tiny, older woman with a dignified and commanding presence, who initially came out to tell us we could not park our stroller there (“there” being outside the Brown Derby, in a pathway that was used for wheelchair parking). Once Alma learned why were trying to get the stroller into the cool, shady spot, however, she immediate became our angel. She arranged for a table with space to park the humongous stroller and invited us to bring it inside and right up to the table. The Brown Derby is a nice restaurant — small, fancy portions of exceptional food on pristine white plates, with a decorative drizzle of sauce — and takes two deluxe dining plan credits (absolutely worth it, btw, sick kid or no sick kid). Whatever. Alma let us park our four-wheeled monstrosity up next to the table.
Alma fretted over Tank for the rest of dinner as though he were her own grandchild. She brought us some ice water for him to sip (with a Mickey Mouse curvy straw), encouraged us to put a cool cloth on him, constantly reassured us that it was FINE that our child was occasionally dry-heaving into a plastic bag in the middle of their restaurant, and sent the manager our way to check on us. The manager, Debbie (another Derby Angel), brought us a snapping cool-pack to help bring down his core temperature, since at that point it was pretty clear that the issue was a combination of overheating and dehydration, and brought him a white paper bag filled with metallic confetti (in Mickey ears and stars) and three light-up ice cubes. The paper bag was labeled “My Bag of Pixie Dust.” She said she thought it might make him feel better when he woke up and saw it. She was right; the puking didn’t stop, but morale definitely improved. Before we left, Alma and Debbie both came back by to check on Tank again and to make sure we knew where the first aid station was (where it was confirmed that he’d gotten dehydrated and overheated).
We’re writing letters to Disney praising Alma and Debbie, but I also wanted to share this story here, to encourage you to give the Brown Derby a try if you’re ever at Disney’s Hollywood Studios. I expected friendliness and happiness from Disney employees; it’s what they’re paid to offer. What I didn’t expect was the level of genuine human compassion and care we received at the Hollywood Brown Derby. It was a five star experience in every way.
