A Not-So-White Christmas

Snow has always been my mortal archnemesis.  I lived in the freezing, desolate recesses of Idaho for two years and to say I loathed it would be a massive understatement.  Snow was my natural enemy, the bane of my existence (and my makeup's).  I could find no redeeming qualities in it, until now, ironically.

You might try to tell me that I don't live in the snow anymore, but you'd be wrong.  It snows every night here in Anaheim.  Sure, it may be room temperature and gingerbread scented and last only two minutes at a time but it counts.  Quite frankly, my snow kicks your snow's butt.

My close friends and family who have seen me at Disneyland know that I love nothing more than the castle lighting we have twice each night, during which it begins to snow.  When I am working outside, I will literally drop my position, plant myself in the dead center of a walkway, and wait.  Everyone thinks I am crazy.  I probably am.

But Disneyland snow, even though it may be (spoiler alert) just soap, is pure, unadulterated magic.  Here's how it works.  Let's face the truth, even though it's obviously the happiest place on earth, Disneyland can be a straight-up nightmare.  Rides break down, kids throw up, strollers wheels fall off, you get stopped at the front of the line every single time.  It's definitely not the luckiest place on earth.  When you're surrounded by 50,000 other people with the same mustard-stained cargo shorts and strained expression as you, it's easy to get frustrated and unhappy.  When you're a cast member dealing with such frazzled guests, it's even easier. 

But then there's the snow.  And for that one beautiful, infinitesimal moment, everything stops.  People slow down in the streets, tilt their heads back with their tongues out, hoist their children onto their shoulders, hold someone's hand.  All of the misfortunate events of the day dissipate as quickly as the snow on the pavement.  And just when you start to feel at peace, it's over.

The world never stops turning and never will.  The anxieties of life never fully disappear, not even at Disneyland.  But when they're suspended in the air, light as a snowflake, even just for two minutes, all the trouble is more than worth it. 

There's just something about the snow.