The Cult of “On Property”

There is a certain breed of Disney fanatic who will never shut up about staying “on property.”

They say it like it is a secret society password. Like uttering those words automatically upgrades you from sweaty tourist to Disney royalty.

“Oh, you’re off property? Couldn’t be me. We’re on property.”

Cool, Kristy. You sound less like a frazzled parent who just survived a Southwest flight with two toddlers kicking the seatback of a stranger for three hours and more like a Fortune 500 exec announcing quarterly earnings. Congratulations! How about we just stick to selling unlicensed Disney oven mitts on Etsy and leave the “on property” talk to the people actually making shareholders money?

Here is the reality:

• Off Property: Reasonably priced hotel with free breakfast, free parking, and walls thick enough that you do not hear strangers arguing about ponchos at 2 a.m.

• On Property: $280 a night for a room that feels like a freshman dorm, thin walls so you get to know the family next door on an intimate level, and the “perk” of waking up at 6:45 a.m. to book Lightning Lane before crying into your refillable mug.
  
  

And do not forget the “exclusive” bus service, which smells like broken dreams and Goldfish crackers and will still keep you waiting 45 minutes while five Animal Kingdom buses pass by. All while a high school marching band is rehearsing outside your room for a competition you did not sign up for.

But hey, at least you can say you are “immersed in the magic.” Nothing screams magic like a food court that feels like a daycare riot and a pool that smells faintly of chlorine and regret.