As the product of two bonafide Hippies, we didn't have toy guns as kids. In fact, if my five younger brothers and I wanted to play cops, Army, or a game we simply called "guns," we were forced to find branches, woodpile kindling, or construction detritus from the alley behind our house like old pipes or discarded vacuum cleaner tubes to have anything resembling a firearm. For hours, we'd run around the neighborhood, in and out of peoples' yards and garages, sort of a combination of hide 'n' seek and real life Call of Duty.
Naturally, when our family would visit Disneyland, we invariably passed this shooting range, watching all those "lucky kids" plunking quarters into the machines, firing rifles at God-knows-what... We were not really allowed to even approach the range to see what was happening in there.
Years later--maybe a high school group date?-- I happened by the Shooting gallery, a certain feeling of autonomy growing as I noted a few quarters jingling in my pocket. With trepidation, I stepped onto the aged wooden deck, hearing the cornball shooting noises of other marksmen pinching off fake shots of red light at small red targets.
Maybe it was my mom and dad sending me an ESP message, maybe it was all those years in Boy Scouts, maybe it was just wanting to save my quarters for Churros. Whatever the case, I couldn't see the consummate joy I had imagined in shooting fake bullets at fake crows and fake tombstones to hear them make equally fake noises. I mean, there's no good reason to shoot a rattlesnake, kids. Seriously.
Over the years, I've learned to shoot, and enjoy the occasional trip to the range with decidedly real guns and equally real ammunition.
Frontier land harkens to a time that is long gone, when "Disneyland" was a television show, not an amusement park (look it up.) When the park opened, Frontierland was one of the original "lands." The world was still feeling the effects of WWII, and boys' heroes were legends like Davey Crockett and the Lone Ranger. The nostalgia must be thick for those senior citizens ambling through Frontierland, remembering their youth and a different time and place. For the rest of us, this shooting gallery has a bit of camp value or maybe a distant memory of being a kid with a mad case of the FOMS (that's the "Fear of Missing Something, Mildred)... But how this spot wasn't top of the list to burn down and replace with a Mos Eisley Cantina blaster shootout attraction with Greedo and Solo is beyond me.
Of course, that could be the Jar Jar talking. read more