The thing about Disney magic is that you either feel it, or you don’t.
You either swell with inexplicable joy watching Tinker Bell fly past Sleeping Beauty Castle and cruising through a tunnel of international child-bots singing on repeat, or you just power through it for the kids. The signature brand of Disney whimsy — too earnest to mistake for kitsch or irony — either drives you to spend hundreds for the privilege of wading through a sea of tourists high on manufactured glee, or sends you running.
