A Disney Story with my dad

Chad's mom and dad (Curtis and Marsha Smith)

I wanted to share a heartfelt story with you from my Disney experiences—a memory that is deeply personal and wrapped in layers of emotion and nostalgia. This was first shared with a fellow podcasting Disney friend and I "recast it" again below.

About 10 to 12 years ago, my dad and I embarked on the Segway tour of Epcot—a whimsical, behind-the-scenes adventure that remains etched in my heart. We arrived early, before the park had even opened its magical gates. After receiving our training, donning helmets, and earning our coveted “license to glide,” we were let loose into the World Showcase.

It was serene, still slumbering in the quiet hush before the day’s excitement. Cast members were diligently setting up—pulling back tarps, wheeling out carts, and preparing for the day’s parade of joy. And as Dad and I soared side-by-side on our Segways, the crisp morning air kissed our faces, and every wave or smile from a cast member felt intentional—as if it were just for us. That singular experience of gliding through a nearly empty Epcot with my dad was pure magic—quietly exhilarating and deeply bonding.

Fast forward to July 2023—my wife, our five energetic children, and I were staying at the Polynesian on vacation. It was then that I received the heartbreaking news that my father was nearing the end of his journey back home in Indiana. I remember the moment vividly—I was sitting on the wooden bench outside the guest arrival area at the Poly, the warm breeze swirling around me, the air thick with the scent of tropical blooms and unspoken grief.

Though we had expected a few more precious weeks, time had other plans. The moment was surreal—a surprise, though not a complete shock. Dad and I had shared conversations, unspoken understandings. We both knew this moment would come.

I found myself at a crossroads: Should I end our vacation and rush back home, or stay and honor the joy we had planned? But the answer came to me swiftly, like a whispered blessing: “Chad, you’re at Disney—why would you come home when we both already know? Be present. Have fun with your family.” That decision, while incredibly heavy, also felt so clear. So we stayed.

The very next morning, we transferred to the Beach Club and made our way to Epcot through the International Gateway. It was just around 10 a.m.

Ironically—and perhaps poetically—I was facing upcoming knee surgery, the result of an old college athletic injury that had begun to weigh heavily on my every step. With five lively children and a wife who could outpace the monorail, I decided to rent an electric scooter for the very first time.

As my family strolled ahead toward Future World, I veered off to secure the scooter. The International Gateway hadn’t yet opened fully, so I found myself briefly alone—surrounded by that soft, golden morning light and memories of Dad.

Once I got the scooter, I instinctively turned toward the Rose and Crown and paused. And then came the thought, echoing from deep within: “What would Dad do?”

With a sudden surge of feeling, I made a U-turn and headed into the World Showcase. It was just before opening, and I was the only guest there—gliding along, breeze brushing my face, as cast members prepared their spaces, smiling and waving with genuine warmth.

It was the exact same sensation I had shared with my dad all those years ago. It felt like time had folded in on itself, gifting me a second chance—one more ride with him by my side. I truly felt his presence in that moment—as if he had helped orchestrate this quiet, poignant tribute.

Disney, in its magical way, continues to gift us stories like these—personal epics wrapped in joy, sorrow, and connection. It binds us to something far greater than ourselves. It is, without question, our home away from home—a place that gently calls us back, time and again, to discover new memories, to relive old ones, and to feel something beautiful, every single time.

With gratitude and pixie dust,Chad