by Tiki Diva
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times….eh. Wrong classic.
The Streets of America were dead. There was no denying that. The workmen had come, with their big wrecking balls and flatbed trailers. The buildings were torn down, the storefronts removed. All that remained was a small portion, forever attached to the Sci-Fi Dine In. And memories. We will always have those.
We had had a good run of it, the Streets and I. Wandering around, admiring the displays… locating Mr. Gold’s curiosity shop… finding the old Chevy symbol… the whole bit. I sat on the steps and drank coffee. I peered through the windows with glee. But, alas, those days would be no more.
“I may as well not even go back to Disney,” I cried to Tiki Husband. “We should work, work, work. No more vacations.” He was dismayed. Thanksgiving came and went, and still we didn’t plan our holiday trek to Florida. “Bah humbug!” I would shout. “No reason to play.”
And, yet, though I couldn’t bear the sight of Hollywood Studios without the good old facades and streetscapes, I never could quite escape the call of the mouse. When I would turn a corner, he was there. When I looked at a carpet pattern, he was there. When I made waffles or pancakes— again, he was there. Three little circles that had come to mean so much. Mickey could not be snuffed out, though his cityscape was ruined for me.
No one would ask me about the best places to stay or dine. No one wanted to know what I thought of the new gondola system or the refurbishment schedule. No one at all asked me, “why do you go to Disney so very often.” It was if they didn’t care. So, neither did I.
Shuffling to bed one evening, after a particularly unsatisfying night of Mickey-less entertainment, I let out a sigh, “why, oh why, do things have to keep changing?” And then, I told Alexa to turn off the light.
The Ghost of Christmas Past
In the wee hours of the morning, I was awakened suddenly from my slumber. What was that, what did I hear? Surely, it must be my imagination. But, no! My heavens! A cat was scratching at my blankets. Scrubbing my arm over my eyes in haste, blinking once, twice, no three times, I came to the realization that this wasn’t just any cat. Why, he looked so darn familiar. I had searched for him on many an eve. Out of place, he was. Tricky, why yes. It was the Ghost of Christmas Past— the purple cat from my beloved Christmas Street Scene! “Come with me,” he mewed. “Faster, let’s go. There’s not much time and quite a bit to see.” And, off we went, to the snoap – covered Streets of America, smack in the middle of the Osborne Light show.
How beautiful it was. Lights covering every nook. Every cranny. People, cramming in from every direction. Disney snow falling from the sky. I could stop and stare all night long. Need to get to Fantasmic? Not me! Let me find the Dinosaur baby and Dalmatians just one last time.
Yet, as suddenly as I had been whisked away, I quickly found myself back in my bedroom, slippers tucked by my door. What an odd and funny thing, I thought to myself, as I snuggled down for another snore.
The Ghosts of Christmas Present
And, here we go again. I was being awakened by someone tugging on my head. It was Prep and Landing, oh my! Donned with spy gear and a laser show, these jolly little Ghosts of Christmas Present yanked me out of my cozy abode and swept me away to see what else we could find. What was that? Oh yes! . More snoap! And, yet, a merry and beautiful sight. The Tower was lit from top to toe. What a delightful projection show, how bright and cheery is this! Hollywood Studios has redeemed itself in a jazzy new holiday twist. Be sure to stop by. Be sure to drop in. The Hollywood Tower of Terror is alight with Sunset Seasons Greetings. You’ll want to see this holiday play from beginning, all the way through to the end.
Are we done, here? No, I don’t think we are. We will want to rush back to our humble abode. Why? Well, there’s one more visitor this evening— the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. He would be along in a few, I was sure.
The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come
Not long after I had settled myself in, I heard a beep and a bop or two. How intriguing, I thought, as a big orange ball rolled himself right into my bedroom. Why, of course BB-8 would be the Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come. Couldn’t I have guessed that myself? We rolled down the hall, flew off to Toy Story Land, and peered over the fence to the mountains rising in the distance. Can you see it? It’s there, rising from the rubble. It will be open sooner than we could believe. As we ready ourselves for Galaxy’s Edge, I can only imagine what the bright and brilliant imagineers have in store. Hollywood Studios’ facelift will be complete. There will be cheer and laughter all around. Creatures from galaxies far, far away will come to celebrate in this new town. Can you see Chewbacca in a Santa hat? What fun! The only question yet to be answered— will the Rebel Spy ever be found?
And, so, I will return to Hollywoodland, though my beautiful Osborne Lights are no more. I will be of good cheer, and helpful to boot, and I will plan and scheme for the next trip down to the Sunshine State. For now, I will sleep, and dream the sweet dreams of Mickey, Pluto, and friends.
Alexa, turn off the light. Alexa? Alexa!