Chris Mitchell by Cast Member Confidential: A Disneyfied Memoir Page B

wishing well. Pelicans skimmed the glassy surface, patrolling for leftovers from the preening seals. Michael put his finger to his lips and pointed to a pod of dolphins playing in the swell around us. Following his lead, I dipped my hand into the water and one of the sleek creatures brushed against my fingertips. It was the first time I can remember feeling the physical pain of beauty.
    He caught the first wave of a big set. I watched him ride in and paddle back out to me. “Don’t turn your back on the ocean,” he admonished, pushing my nose so that I faced Catalina Island. “Turn your board around and keep your eyes open for the next set.” But there’s something about a thing as big and beautiful as the ocean. You get charmed by it, dazzled, and you kind of lose your self-awareness. Another wave came and again Michael took it. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he rode all the way in.
    I felt the suck before I saw the wave, and suddenly, I was inside the washing machine, my face being dragged across the sandy bottom. I struggled to stay calm, but I was running out of breath fast. Just as the panic started, the wave released me and I clawed my way to the top, gasping for air. My leash was still attached to my ankle, but the board had been snapped in half, severed just beneath the Peter Pan sticker. The nose was twenty feet away, skating along the shore, taunting sandpipers as they hunted sand crabs beneath the foam.
    “What did I tell you?” Michael shouted, more angry than was necessary. “Never ever turn your back on the ocean!”
    As Michael and I got older, we grew more and more distant. He went to college and medical school and settled down with his own family, whereas I fell in love with the beach, the skate park, and any place that nurtured a Lost Boys lifestyle. I was a fast learner, and I had a natural gift for finding shortcuts that would reduce the stress factor in my life and allow me to chill. We quickly learned to ignore each other.
    Now that I had moved across the country, it seemed that I had become a priority to him again. I spent a minute questioning his motives, then gave up and let myself get lost in the moment. I was out of shape from a month without surfing; just paddling out made me winded, and by the time I caught the first wave, I felt my shoulders burning. I spent the morning chasing a decent left, then found a burger place and slept on the beach for a while. It was exactly what I needed to bring balance and perspective back into my life. By the time I was back in my Jeep, crossing the swampy marshes of Central Florida, I was recharged and determined to fight the process that was sapping my individuality. Johnny handed me a beer the moment I walked in the door.
    “Ah got two steaks on the grill,” he announced. “And ah Tivo’d Talladega. What do you say?”
    “I hate to eat and run,” I said. “But…” I gave him the short version of the last couple of day’s events, wrapping up with Brady’s invitation. He took the Mousenapping in stride, and my misgivings about allegiance to the Corporation. But when I got to the part about my acquaintance in the Pooh suit, his expression froze, and he didn’t say anything for the rest of the story.
    “How well do you know this guy?” Johnny said when I finished. He was still wearing his trademark pleasant expression, but it looked forced. He poked at the steaks with uncharacteristic violence.
    “I wouldn’t call it a friendship,” I backpedaled. “I met him at PI. He works in the character program.”
    He nodded, his Disney smile pinned securely in place. “Ah see. So you don’t really know him.” He continued to nod, while he sipped his whiskey. “You know, ah’m not one to judge, and people are people, God knows, but…Sometimes, people aren’t exactly who they appear to be.”
    Johnny never uttered a critical word about anyone, so this tepid ambiguity rang out as a resounding warning bell. “What do you mean?”
    “One