Dicks, plural, apparently.

Report in the New York Post (yeah, I know--being reflashed on the Atlanta Journal's blog, so halve the grain of salt) today with a stomach-turning title that tells the tale, Rich Manhattan moms hire handicapped tour guides so kids can cut lines at Disney World.

Some wealthy Manhattan moms have figured out a way to cut the long lines at Disney World — by hiring disabled people to pose as family members so they and their kids can jump to the front, The Post has learned.

. . .

“My daughter waited one minute to get on ‘It’s a Small World’ — the other kids had to wait 2 1/2 hours,” crowed one mom, who hired a disabled guide through Dream Tours Florida.

Apparently, Dream Tours Florida charges the elite of the elite $130 an hour to be provided with disabled persons pretending to be family members so the leaders of tomorrow needn't be inconvenienced by such plebeian concerns as fairness and waiting one's turn.
“You can’t go to Disney without a tour concierge,’’ she sniffed. “This is how the 1 percent does Disney.”
Why should I be surprised? This is how the 1 percent does damn near everything.

And everyone.

Update: In the comments, Angryallen and JayBat point out that Disney will glide the well-heeled in and out the back doors of the rides for a grand a day or so.

Does this mean some people will forty bucks extra for eight hours of being escorted by a handicapped person? 'Cause that would be a whole 'nother level of dickishness.

Update again: Catte Nappe notes that the company Dream Tours was founded with the goal of enabling disabled adults to experience a Disney tour. If that's the case, then maybe I'm at this from the wrong angle entirely and the title of the diary is autobiographical.

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