I love you, Mickey Mouse!

It seems of late, again, most of my blogs have been "doom and gloom," which I don't like as much as you probably dislike reading. I thought we all deserved something fun, light hearted, and totally ridiculous.

I have been a fan of Mickey Mouse since I was a little girl. Though I spent most of my life on Guam, we also lived in California for a few years, during which we went to Disneyland often. In truth, I had been to Disneyland four times before I was of age and left each time, a little crushed that I hadn't seen Mickey.

I looked for him every time and during a visit when I was 18, even begged the park officials to tell me where he'd be next. Turns out, at the time, it was a closely guarded secret. In fact, the park folks told us that Disneyland is actually filled with "behind the scenes" tunnels and secret doors, all designed so that Mickey could step out in public unexpectedly.

The reason for all the mystery is because the beloved mouse would get pounced on by excited children and more than a few happy adults as soon as he made an appearance. The only way Mickey Mouse could appear at different places throughout the park was by using the secret passageways.

Of course, these days, there's an app for your cell phone that will tell you exactly where he is. I have no idea how Disney manages the security to deal with this little bit of technology, but actually, no longer care. I have since met Mickey Mouse in person.

In 2004, my sister and I took my son to Disney World for his first visit to the Magical Kingdom. He was only four years old and very excited, though I suspect his mother and aunty may have been on par with him in the excitement arena. We arrived, bought our tickets, and began making our way towards the Haunted House.

It's kind of a family tradition that this is the first ride we go on... that or else Pirates of the Caribbean. (By the way, regardless of tradition, I don't recommend taking a four year old to the Haunted House for his first introduction to Disney rides. A very bad idea, but I digress.)

If you've ever been to Disney World, you know that you must walk down Main Street and pass Cinderella's Castle as you proceed in to the park. As we were walking in the direction of the castle, I saw a tall, blue figure walking out from a side garden. It was Stitch (of Lilo and Stitch fame, a movie my son liked). I excitedly began raving to my son, "Ezequiel, look, look! It's Stitch! It's Stitch!"

Of course, he was thrilled to see the "real" Stitch. Within seconds, Stitch was followed by another character, a yellow figure I recognized immediately from my own childhood. It was Pluto, who had a leash attached to his collar, though you couldn't see who was holding the end of it. Pluto came out very slowly, so that the one holding the leash was revealed even slower. (I think you can guess where this is going, can't you?!)

It was Mickey Mouse!!!

Within seconds, I realized that what was about to happen. Huge lines were going to form so that people could shake hands and have their picture taken with their favorite characters - and we were standing right where the lines would be forming! I grabbed my son's hand, and suspect he may even have become partially airborne, as I bolted towards the line for Mickey. We ended up being second in line.

The entire time we waited for our turn, I was talking excitedly to my boy, hyping him up to meet the most famous mouse in the world. Finally, it was our turn. We walked up to Mickey Mouse and before anyone could do or say anything - I burst in to tears!!!

Literally sobbing my silly head off and recognizing in some distant corner of my mind that this was really just a person in a costume, I managed to choke out, "Oh, Mickey!!! I have been looking for you for thirty five years!!!"

(Apparently in the face of a dream come true, "some" adults have absolutely no shame whatsoever!)

And what did Mickey do? He threw his arms open wide, took me in to them, and patted my back, chittering away while I bawled my head off, like the biggest dumbass to ever hit the kingdom!

Eventually, I calmed down enough to pose for a picture with my son and sister (who, I might add, was also crying by this point, though in her defense, it may have been from the sheer embarrassment of having me as an older sister).

We thanked the mouse profusely and as we began walking away, Mickey grabbed my hand. He pulled me back in to his arms and gave me a final hug, a final pat on the back, and a final (very understanding, I thought) chitter.

And that, my friends, is how I finally met my beloved Mickey Mouse!