It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

But it was always the crowdiest of times.

I am, of course, talking about our New Year's trip to Disney World ... the only place on Earth where someone can charge $25 for a balloon (and I'm not even kidding) and there will practically be a public beat-down to get the last one. People can't climb over each other fast enough to hand Walt Disney their money.

There's a reason for that. The place really is magical. It sounds hokey, but I saw looks of sheer delight on my children's faces that I've never seen before.

Sis found our deal at vrbo.com.

We went with the whole extended family – my parents, my brother and his family, my sister and her family, my sister-in-law's parents, and everybody's kids – and stayed for three nights. My sister, queen of vacation planning, found this incredible seven-bedroom house about 10 minutes from the park that cost a mere $259 a night. You can't beat that deal if you're traveling with a big group. It's not actually affiliated in any way with Disney World – which is why it's so cost-effective.

Hotel rooms are iffy for us. Billy needs running-around space and without it, he'll ping-pong from one wall to another like a trapped monkey.

My mom and dad traveled with my family down to Orlando in a rented van. The van came equipped with a GPS system, and this brings me to Cautionary Tale #1 in making a road trip with an adorable and brilliant but echolalic autistic child.

CAUTIONARY TALE #1: TRAVELING TO ORLANDO

INT. VAN. DAY.

Pop is driving. Daddy is riding shotgun. Billy is in the seat directly behind them with Nan; Mom and Willow are in the back.

GPS LADY: Go 400 yards then turn right.

BILLY: Go 400 yards then turn right.

GPS LADY: Take the next left.

BILLY: Go 400 yards then turn right.

POP: What?! Turn right?

BILLY: Go 400 yards then turn right.

DAVE: No, don't listen to him! Take the next left! Ahhh, sh-- shawshank.

BILLY: Go 400 yards then turn right.

GPS LADY: Please make a U-Turn.

BILLY: Please make a U-Turn. Then turn right.

(Repeat this scene for four hours.)

Day 1: Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow ... on a gift shop!

We arrived on Friday, New Year's Eve, and immediately went to Hollywood Studios, because we'd heard that's where they have the fake snow.

Billy is obsessed with snow – or thinks he is. He's not entirely sure what snow IS, because we live in Florida, and his exposure to it is limited to Backyardigans episodes and a book about Frosty the Snowman. But he loves it.

He used to pour white sand from his sandbox over his head repeatedly, while saying, “It's snowing!” Coupled with the fact that he hates hairwashing so much he must be half-cat, this was the recipe for some nasty-headed months.

Nan+tram = Best day of Billy's life.

Cotton balls have also been used to simulate snow, along with the cotton stuffing from inside his Clifford the Big Red Dog. In fact, one morning I opened Billy's bedroom door to find Clifford the Deflated Red Dog sitting amongst a veritable blizzard.

I'd never been to Hollywood Studios before our trip, but I took it as a very good sign when Billy went absolutely ape-poop over the tram from the parking lot. If he likes THIS ride, I thought, he's going to love this place.

He did love Disney World, but the tram back-and-forth from the parking lot remained in his top three favorite rides throughout the trip. Luckily, we got to ride it twice a day at every park.

Hollywood Studios isn't really a preschooler's paradise ... at least not most of it. There are about 4,000 gift shops and half a dozen shows (Billy and Willow loved The Little Mermaid show.) but as far as I could tell, no rides. Somewhere in there, though, we were promised some snow ...

Autistic kids get (almost) all the breaks ... at Disney World.

Pop goes in search of a $25 balloon.

Our first stop after the parking lot was Guest Services. I had heard about the magic “special needs pass” at the Mouse House, but I didn't quite believe it until we marched up to the window, picked up our tickets (thanks, Nan and Pop!) and then informed the nice lady that we were traveling with an autistic child.

She smiled at Billy and said, “What's your name?”

Billy pointed at her and shouted back, “NOT TO GO TO THE DOCTOR!” (Anything even vaguely resembling a doctor's office – and standing at the guest services window is a stretch even for him – freaks Billy out totally.)

Special needs pass approved.

To qualify for this pass, you simply need to bring your child with you to guest services. Apparently, some butt-hats try to lie and claim to have a special needs kid in their car or something just to jump the line. They're not going to “test” your child, though they will speak to him as naturally and non-threateningly as the lady in the scene above. I know that Autism Spectrum Disorder, Down's Syndrome, and any physically handicapping disability will qualify for the pass, but if you have any questions, call Disney's Guest Services line ahead of time.

What the special needs pass gets you at Disney: Essentially, you have a “Fast Pass” for every ride, no matter when you arrive. At some rides, there's a special entrance – usually the wheelchair-accessible one – to which you're directed. At others, you just get shuttled into the Fast Pass line. (The Fast Pass line is line for “regular” guests who have received a ticket with an “appointment” to ride that particular ride.) At a few – very few – it makes no difference. Usually, this happens at rides in which huge groups of people are entering at the same time and there's very little wait anyway.

Our group is still one cousin and four adults short at this point.

Our pass noted that there were six people in our group, and all six of us got the same privileges, so that Billy didn't have to be separated from his cousins during his fun day out.

The pass does NOT guarantee you instant access to any ride. Still, we never waited any longer than 20 minutes – and that was at the most crowded park (I'm talking to you, Magic Kingdom) at the most popular ride (bite me, Dumbo).

90 percent of the staff was really great about it. They would smile brightly at Billy and escort us all to the special needs entrance.

10 percent of them needed some sensitivity training. One very unhappy “cast member” (there are no “employees” at Disney; everyone's a “cast member,” as though they're all on their way to the Golden Globes) barked at us, “That don't get you nothing here!”

We learn to shrug and move on to something else.

A couple of times – again, very rarely -- some people standing in line would give us dirty looks as our able-bodied group marched in through the wheelchair entrance. I know they must have thought we were faking some condition, but they can judge us with my compliments once they've spent most of the month of November trying to drag a four-year-old down the street to school while he yells about how he's afraid of kangaroos.

A quick tip: Have some member of your group whisper the name of a celebrity as you breeze past. We put a pair of shades on Dave and pretended he was Bono. Apparently, no one cares if Bono abuses the wheelchair entrance.

Coming tomorrow: Our family finally finds the snow ... and why Disney cares at least slightly less about autism than it does about the money and good times of obnoxious, abusive butt-hatt New York teenagers ...