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Main street is lit up. Soft Christmas music rumbles low in the ambience. Elaborate reef decorations hang over head between three story buildings, one every fifteen feet. On one end of the road, between city hall and the town’s high class italian restaurant, a massive Christmas tree shines and glitters with all the warmth and love of a hug from a grandparent. On the other end of the road is Cinderella’s castle, its color changing every one hundred seconds into one of one hundred eighty four palettes and patterns, each one more lovely than the next. Electric lights suddenly turn on, turning the sad lack of energy that comes with dusk into an inspiring and energetic beginning of a great night. Then there is a slight buzz in the air, and the Bing Crosby music grows louder – its eighty degrees at night, but its snowing. A Christmas miracle. A young boy in a Buzz Lightyear costume looked up at me from his stroller, his brown eyes opened as wide as possible, and he shouted "NIEVE VERDAD!" through his big, white smile. "That’s right, ranger," I smiled back, "Real snow." His family, still looking up at the black night sky, trying to swat a flake or two with their hand unsuccessfully, continued on to Tomorrowland.
Merry Christmas.
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