Was a time when Tomorrow was big. Back in the '60s and '70s, despite—or perhaps because of—Vietnam and nuclear missiles, Tomorrow was a good place to be. They even gave it a name: Tomorrowland. Unlike the rest of Disneyland's fluff, Tomorrowland had the feel of an exhibit, a place where we learned that the future would burst with helpful robots, time-saving products, efficient mass transit and commonplace space travel. Most of all, we were assured that Tomorrow would be better than today.
Now Tomorrow has come and it seems to me we've lost our stomach for it, Disneyland included. My family has those annual passes and, this year, I noticed that whenever we wanted a little respite from the crowds, we'd find ourselves in Tomorrowland. It used to teem with visitors, but now it always seems like one of the least-crowded sections of Disneyland. The big herds swarm Adventureland and Toontown, which play on our nostalgia, our longing for the way things never were. These days, you can find a place to sit in Tomorrowland, or walk in full stride. Maybe it's because its message of a better Tomorrow seems less sure now, or even argues just the opposite. The space given for the ultrafast Rocket Rods—which had replaced the gently efficient People Mover—is unoccupied after the ride was scrapped because of chronic breakdowns. The forward-thinking Mission to Mars was scuttled years ago and replaced in succession by 3-D movies featuring Michael Jackson and a careless scientist who shrinks the audience, both men examples of the horrific cost of unchecked science. Since Space Mountain was closed, Tomorrowland's most popular attraction is probably Star Tours, a ride with an A.D.D.-addled robot taking passengers for a space joyride that ends up exactly where it started. The only holdover from the glory days are the circling rockets of the Astro Orbiter, which was moved to Tomorrowland's entrance perhaps as a reminder of a time when we thought there would be better times. Still, the Orbiter is what it is: a ride that goes round and round, faster and faster, but returns us back to where we were, making no progress at all.
I used to bug the hell out of my Mom to take me to Tomorrowland, but with my kids Tomorrow is an afterthought, the place you go when the lines for Splash Mountain are too long. For them, Tomorrow's always around, and not anything to get excited about.
