“Don’t get mad, get everything.”
THE FIRST WIVES CLUB (1996)
Vacation: Day Three
The Florida vacation was in full swing when we hit the theme parks using the comped tickets we earned from the traumatic old folks’ neighborhood tour. First up was Disney World, where my family lost me midmorning and didn’t find me for a couple of hours. I may have been young, but I have a vivid memory of the moment I realized my family was nowhere near me. I tried to tell Pluto that I was lost, but the characters aren’t supposed to talk to you, so there was a lot of miming from the adult dog. I could’ve gotten his autograph, but he wasn’t quick to help find my parents, so he can rot. I’m sure they have some sort of protocol now, and perhaps the human inside the costume didn’t even hear me, but in retrospect, whaa-aattt the fuck? Eventually I gave up asking Mickey’s pet to assist me, and I found a nice couple who helped me find my folks. Now that I’m an adult, I understand child leashes. Kids run off, and it’s hard to keep track of three of them for an entire day, let alone a vacation. That said, I’m not letting my mom and dad off that easily, mostly because they gaslit me for years, telling me that I didn’t get lost on that trip. For years I would say, “Remember that time I got lost at Disney?” and they would respond with, “That never happened.” I’ve since found footage of a home video where my dad admits they “misplaced” me. He never uses the word lost, despite the fact that I was actually more lost than Evangeline Lilly and that smoke cloud on ABC circa 2004. Misplaced is something that happens to your remote control when it falls underneath a couch cushion, not when one of your three children is crying and alone. I spent years thinking I had dreamed up being lost because no one would admit that it happened. The only reason I was able to confirm my suspicions is because I had those home videos transferred to digital. Watching the footage of my father’s admission was satisfying but frightening. What else have I been lied to about?
For those of you keeping score at home, my childhood vacation consisted of a temper tantrum from my father after he bought a car that didn’t fit in the garage, a child driving us to Florida, me getting thrown from a moving vehicle by my brothers, AND me getting “misplaced” at a theme park. Not a great trip for Danny.
After Disney, we went to Universal Studios, where things finally started to turn around for me. I spent the day on cloud nine with a Beethoven’s 2nd plush that I got from the gift shop, alongside an autograph book signed by the likes of a Lucille Ball impersonator and an off-brand Ghostbuster. Life would’ve been perfect if they had someone walking around the park autographing as Bonnie Hunt’s character from the aforementioned Beethoven sequel, but can’t have it all, I suppose. Regardless, I was in pop culture heaven.
Universal Studios was also the home of Nickelodeon Studios, which was my everything at that age. Salute Your Shorts, Hey Dude, Rugrats, Guts, and Double Dare were everything to me! I even loved Clarissa Explains It All, starring my future archnemesis Melissa Joan Fart. MJF and I would have a fraught future, but back then, it was nothing but love.* While we were visiting Nickelodeon, they asked us to partake in a game show that was filming. I don’t quite remember if it was a pilot they were shooting or simply an attraction, but there was a very high-energy young man who was hosting—we’ll call him Stu—and a bunch of games set up for kids that they were filming. The Pellegrino family entered the studio and sat down in the audience. Stu introduced the show and asked for some volunteers, to which I shot my hand to the sky faster than a bolt of lightning. Stu picked me and my brother Bryan to be contestants, along with a group of about ten other kids.
They lined all of us up, Bryan and I stood next to each other, and Stu went around the horn with his microphone to introduce each child to the crowd, quickly asking everyone their names. Although Bryan and I are three years apart, we look a lot alike, particularly when we were kids. Same height, hair, and eye color. Subconsciously I was still harboring anger toward my family for what they put me through, and this was my opportunity to exact some revenge, at least on one brother. So, when Stu shoved the slime-covered mic up to my mouth and asked my name, without missing a beat, I said “Bryan.” As the name left my lips, I could feel the energy shift within the room. My brother, who was standing next to me, was up next, and I stole his name! He was hustled, scammed, bamboozled, hoodwinked, and led astray. He had two options. One was to say his name was Bryan and risk our entire family looking crazy. It was too obvious we were related, so what family would name two of their children the same name? His other option was to say his name was Danny, but it was all happening so fast, he couldn’t quite figure it out in a socially acceptable amount of time.
Stu put the mic in front of Bryan’s face, and my big brother froze. I looked up at him and saw him squirming, looking around the room for answers.
“Uh…um…uh…” Bryan said.
I glanced over at my parents and Junior, whose mouths were agape as they anxiously awaited Bryan’s response.
“Um…uh…”
“What’s your name?” Stu asked again.
“Uhhh…”
Then finally, after what felt like a lifetime, he said, “Danny.”
Rather than going to the next kid, Stu decided to take a beat and insult my brother in front of everyone.
“Uh, are you sure?” he asked Bryan.
Bryan was humiliated, while I kicked back and smiled like a cartoon villain or Denise Richards when she sat down to do her confessional in front of a green screen on The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills (#Justice4Denise). Stu was such an asshole to my brother, but I loved every second of it. They say revenge is a dish best served cold, but I like to think revenge is a public humiliation via a Nickelodeon game show pilot and a basic man named Stu insulting my brother.
*I don’t actually have a real feud with Melissa Joan Hart. It was a joke on social media that I took too far, and now people think we hate each other despite the fact that I’ve never met her. I’ll forever stan Aunt Hilda, Aunt Zelda, Salem, and of course, Sabrina the Teenage Witch. That said, I do support the idea of having a famous archnemesis without having much of a reason to hate them. It’s our right.