My Aunt Vanished with My ID and Money in Disneyland — I Came Up with the Perfect Revenge on the Train Ride Home

I believed my aunt’s last-minute invitation to Disneyland was a kind gesture until she disappeared with my money, phone, and ID, leaving me and one of her sons stranded abroad.

I had already prepared the ideal retaliation by the time we got on the train to go home.

In Disneyland, I anticipated princesses, parades, and a hint of nostalgia for my early years.

Instead, my aunt gave me a master class in pettiness, rage, and betrayal.

It all began with what appeared to be a kind gesture.

Aunt Marie had everything planned, including hotel rooms, park passes, and flights, for her twin children’s birthday celebration.

She turned to me after one of her pals abruptly left.

When she said, “You can come instead,” “Just cover his share.”

I was sixteen and quite broke.

Actually, though, I hadn’t gone to Disneyland Paris since I was a child.

Why not, I reasoned?

Although it appeared reasonable, my aunt neglected to disclose that she had no intention of actually raising her children while on this vacation.

She threw a walking fit as soon as we touched down.

Yelling at employees and throwing the children on me while she walked away to “check the gift shops.”

I took on the roles of unofficial ride coordinator, babysitter, suitcase handler, and food supplier.

But I forced myself to smile, grit my teeth, and remain courteous.

Until the final day of our journey, when everything went wrong.

The Trip That Made Everything Worse

It was about midday.

The Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster was something one of the twins desired to ride.

The other didn’t.

“Go ahead, take him,” Aunt Marie responded with a dramatic sigh, adjusting her expensive sunglasses.

“I’ll wait with the bags here.”

The line lasted little more than five minutes.

I then gave my crossbody to her.

It included everything I owned, including my passport, debit card, ID, and phone.

I assumed she would be sitting exactly where we left her when we got off the trip because I was traveling light that day, but she wasn’t.

I initially assumed she could have run to get a food or to use the restroom.

I looked around the benches and inside stores, but I was unable to locate her.

I was still walking around the same area of the park an hour later, holding her child’s hand, with my stomach rumbling, sweat streaming down my back, and reality setting in.

I had no money, no ID, and no phone.

I was now totally in charge of a ten-year-old with a churro addiction and a sense of urgency, and we were in a foreign country.

The panic struck then.

The Ruining of Disneyland

Security continually attempted to summon her over the intercom while we were at the Lost Children station for the remainder of the day.

I recall the staff’s expression when I clarified that I was the broke niece and not the boy’s mother, and that my aunt had actually disappeared along with me.

Hours went by with no updates, no calls, and no trace of her.

After a while, I recalled to use the park phone to contact my dad, who was the sole number I knew by heart.

He was angry and appalled.

After a moment of silence, he answered, “All right.

Take a breath first.

Is it possible for you to return to the hotel where you were staying?”

Perhaps.

All I have to do is hail a taxi.

However, I am unable to pay for one.

“All right.

Ask Guest Services if they may make a taxi call and collect payment via phone.

I will provide my card to them.

I hope your aunt will be at the hotel when you return.

Tell me if not, and I’ll make arrangements.”

I let out a trembling breath.

“All right.

Regards, Dad.”

“And listen,” he said softly, “none of this is your fault.”

I nearly started crying more after that.

We rode in a taxi.

The ride seemed longer than the whole journey.

But guess who had already checked in when we eventually entered the hotel lobby?

And left a brief message at the front desk for me?

The receptionist cheered up and exclaimed, “Oh!” as I introduced myself and inquired if my aunt had checked in.

“A note has been left for you.”

As if it were a priceless item, she gave me a tiny piece of folded hotel stationery.

“I went to supper.

I’ll see you on the train.

Aunt Marie.”

As if it had hit me, I gazed at the page.

That was it.

No explanation, no apologies.

She didn’t even care that I had no money, no identification, and no way to get in touch with anyone.

No worries about how we would get back to the hotel or reach the station in a resource-poor foreign nation.

The phrase “Gone to dinner” sounded more like she had left her niece and child in the middle of Disneyland than that she had just gone out for a quick coffee.

She was treating me as if I were a glorified au pair that she could simply fire.

The fury really started to sink in at that point.

Not the frightened type, the calm, collected kind that begins to plan.

I realized then that I was done being courteous.

The Dinner Roll and the Train

We just managed to reach the train.

My dad, a true hero, covered the cab fare once more.

I was trying not to lose it while carrying my cousin and running on fumes.

I wanted to flip the entire dining car table when I finally saw her, her hair freshly blown out, drinking coffee as if nothing had occurred.

Instead, for the time being, I bit my tongue.

“Where were you?”

With an audible tone of anger, I asked.

As if I were the dramatic one, she blinked.

“What’s causing your rage?

I left a note,” she boasted.

“And have a look!

I brought food for you.”

She took out a roll of bread.

A crumpled, cold roll of bread from somewhere.

She continued to gaslight and offer that stale lump of carbs without offering an explanation or an apology.

“Come on,” I urged to her son, who was still holding my hand as if I were his emotional support system.

“Come on, let’s get some actual meal.”

I got him the largest, most expensive piece of chocolate cake on the menu, and we stayed in the dining car for the remainder of the train voyage.

He was worthy.

I never once returned to my seat.

However, I wasn’t done yet.

Holiday Karma Was Adorable

Now fast-forward several months.

Our whole family was organizing a vacation to a comfortable cabin in the mountains.

A group excursion that would involve snow, hot cocoa, and board games.

And guess who became excited all of a sudden?

“Oh, I haven’t been to the mountains in ages!”

In the group chat, Aunt Marie gushed.

“A little family time would be nice.

Tell me what I should carry.”

“Just pack warm clothes,” I said.

“Don’t worry about the reservations; I’ll take care of them.”

And I did.

I paid all of the deposits, reserved every bed, and planned the entire trip—aside from her.

I forwarded Aunt Marie’s twin sons’ reservation information a day prior to the trip.

She texted me a few hours later, saying, “Hey!

These are only for Chris and Pete.

My details are hidden from me.

Is there something I’m missing?

You mean I’m still coming?”

I calmly and sweetly greeted her when I called her.

“Oh?”

I pretended to seem perplexed as I spoke.

“You can’t find your tickets, but the boys’ are there?

That’s strange.”

After a moment, I said in a sweet, quiet voice, “I left a note at reception.”

She fell silent, and then the storm hit.

She exploded, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”

“You’re still upset over that pointless Disneyland incident?

I left a note!

For several hours, I was away!

You have no right to keep me out of a family vacation!

I am their mother.”

I grinned over the phone.

“Yes, you did leave a note.

I thus assumed that’s how you wanted to be contacted.”

She let out a scream.

She screamed, “You RUINED everything!”

“Our final excursion before classes resumed was this one!

I wanted my children and I to get closer.”

I responded right away.

“After abandoning your child and me in a foreign nation, you sent me a bread roll.

You now have breadcrumbs.

That seems like a fair bargain to me.”

She continued to shout, but really?

I don’t give a damn.

She was responsible for getting her children to the airport, and we would look after them during the journey as a family.

Without her, they would be alright.

I just hung up, then.

Since that phone call, we haven’t spoken, and to be honest, I’m not in a rush.

I won’t speak with her until she sincerely apologizes for the Disneyland incident.

However, she did take her children to the airport.

We made sure they had a great day and embraced them.

The journey was amazing, filled with inside jokes, laughing, and moments she completely missed.

To let her know precisely what she missed, I snapped a ton of photos, and yes, I posted them all on the family group chat.

Perhaps the next time she dumps someone in Disneyland, she will keep in mind that retaliation hurts the most when it is delivered cold.

More importantly, though, she will reconsider her attempt to exploit any member of this family in the future.