There are momentos that trigger memory; then there are those that open a floodgate. One guest staying at Disney’s Grand Floridian Resort just found such a moment, tucked away in an old guidebook—an official letter from Disney responding to the events of September 11, 2001.
The letter offers reassurance, kindness, and a pledge: if travel is disrupted, Disney would extend guest stays. Years later, rediscovering it has stirred up waves of recollections, gratitude, and a reminder of what Disney was, for many, in one of the most turbulent days in American history.
The Letter That Waited
Inside a tattered Birnbaum’s Guidebook from the year 2000, among buttons, maps, FastPasses, maybe a limp Bizkit CD or two, the guest found a “buck slip”—that small note often put in rooms.
found a relic that threw me back to when I was 16 at Disney on 9/11
byu/oldmanloki inWaltDisneyWorld
The letter reads in full:
“Thank you for being our guest. As we all witnessed this national tragedy unfold, please know that the cast and leadership of the Walt Disney World resort are here to support you in anyway we can.
As you may be aware, the president has closed the nation’s air traffic system due to today’s tragic events. This may cause significant disruption to travel today and, in the days ahead, while airline determine how to resume your schedules.
For your convenience, we are prepared to extend your stay at the resort, and we make every effort to ensure your comfort while you remain with us.
If you have specific questions regarding your room, reservation, or other needs, please contact the front desk by dialling zero from your guest room, phone or any house phone .
Thank you for allowing us to be of service to you during this difficult time.”
Back to September 2001 Through Teen Eyes
The Redditor described that morning: “so, the other day i’m digging through one of these old disney junk totes i’ve got. buttons, tickets, fastpasses, maps, and what do i find? a buck slip tucked in my beat‑up Birnbaum’s Guidebook from the year 2000. immediately i’m back, september 11, 2001. i’m an angsty teen, complete with the limp bizkit cd and jncos, staying at the grand with my parents and grandparents. that morning, we’re about to go to the pool and then, bam. the world changes. surreal. you’re in the middle of the disney bubble with the topiaries, monorails, mickey waffles and meanwhile, chaos in new york. we’re floridians, sure, but half the people we know are up there. and through all of it, the cast members were amazing. unbelievable. calm, collected, helping everyone. people from new york, new jersey, they’re a wreck. and the cast members? total pros.”
That scene—pool towels, sun, Disney smells—and then news, fear, disbelief. But what stands out most in this memory is not just the chaos: it’s the care. The cast members didn’t panic. They didn’t let things devolve. They stepped into a role that, for many guests, made all the difference.
What Others Witnessed
That thread didn’t just contain nostalgia—it held dozens of stories that peered behind Disney’s usual magic show, laid bare during crisis.
One guest recalls arriving a few days after airports reopened: “Our airplane was empty except for us and a few others too. We actually were served a meal for the flight because an earlier significantly longer flight had been cancelled. When we got to Disney, our hotel was dead. We did not see another guest (that I can remember) the entire time we were staying that week. And the parks were absolutely dead. There were zero lines for any of the rides. We rode Splash Mountain three times without ever getting off the ride. It was wild to think about now as an adult. But as a child I thought it was the coolest thing ever.”
A Cast Member who worked at WDW then wrote: “I was working at WDW on 9/11. I was still asleep when it all started because I typically worked at noon, but my mom called and woke me up around 9 to tell me ‘they think a plane flew into the side of the World Trade Center in New York.’ I remember thinking ‘well that seems like an easily‑answered question if they’re uncertain…’”
Another memory: “Interesting sidebar about Disney at that time: so many guests who were there couldn’t get home because they shut down the airspace, and many who were supposed to arrive couldn’t get there. If I remember right, Disney comped the hotel rooms of those who were stuck and couldn’t go home; thankfully they had the space from people who weren’t arriving as expected. (Exhibit A in this post!)”
Then one of the smallest years-old voices: “I was also in Disney on 9/11! I was 3!! We were getting on the carousel, it started and then abruptly ended. There were loud announcements over the intercoms that the park was closed immediately and all guests must leave. They wouldn’t tell us what was going on and only after we got back to the hotel did my parents learn what was happening. The next day we got on a Disney cruise. Wild how you remember things like that.”
More Than Just Hotels and Memorabilia
These recollections go far beyond nostalgia. They paint a picture of a moment when Disney resorts didn’t just entertain—they sheltered. They didn’t just host—they adapted. They didn’t just pretend everything was OK—they acknowledged the chaos, and offered extensions, reassurance, opened front desks for everything, made phone lines available, tried to steady people whose flights vanished, whose plans collapsed, whose homes felt remote from safety.
That letter, preserved in a guidebook forgotten in a box, is proof of what many said: Disney did actually extend stays. The letter promised it, and guests remember it happening.
Grief, Patriotism, Reflection — Disney’s Role Then and Now
Today is September 11, 2025. Disney parks, including Walt Disney World and Disneyland, will observe the day with flags at half‑staff—an expression of national mourning mirrored everywhere. The letter re‑found today resonates especially because the world keeps bringing pain, reminders, loss. This memory illustrates how places meant for escape don’t always escape us from reality—but can offer comfort anyway.
It also brings up questions many have asked quietly: what about places like Hall of Presidents or other patriotic attractions? Do they shift in meaning when tragedies occur? While there is no indication that Hall of Presidentschanged its show or script because of 9/11, many guests who were at Disney in the immediate days afterward say everything felt more solemn. Announcements came slower. Cast members spoke gently. Security became more perceptible. The place still had rides, still had princesses, still had churros—but everything felt muted, held in a softer frame.
Why It Matters
In a world where media moves fast, where every anniversary prompts a flood of images and stories, what makes this kind of discovery so powerful is intimacy. A letter in a room, a family somewhere in Florida, a guidebook thrown in a box. Small acts of compassion tend to get lost when headlines shout. Yet, these are the things people remember.
The found “buck slip” is not just a piece of paper—it is a mirror into how Disney responded in real time, how the cast and leadership lived up to that promise of support. The phrase, “we are prepared to extend your stay … ensure your comfort … here to support you in any way we can” becomes more than corporate speak—it becomes something many guests hold as meaningful.
