Dispatch From Disneyland
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The Fireworks Spot

He's an old man now. Hairs protrude in a thin gray crown just above the ears. Wrinkles of times gone by have transformed his visage into the wizened man now beside you. And he's been sitting there next to you on the bench for 30 minutes now.

When he first sat down you were a little disappointed. What is he doing, you thought. This is my secret fireworks spot. Maybe he'll get up before the show starts, you hope.

When you first started going to the park regularly, you rested on this bench late one night. Much to your surprise the fireworks began and you had an almost perfect view. Now every chance you get, you see the fireworks from here and it is almost always abandoned except for you. Just not tonight.

The fireworks are about 20 minutes away now and the old gent stirs a little. First he coughs, then clears his throat. You realize he's about to speak and shudder nervously. His voice torn and raspy, he speaks very quietly, as if telling you a secret.

"This has always been my favorite spot for Fireworks," he says. "I would come here when I was young, like you, and indulge myself in a hot fudge sundae and sit and wait for the show to begin."

You smile and nod, thinking this might be a good time for you to get some Ice Cream yourself. It's either curiosity or something in the old man's manner that makes you stay to listen.

He continues, "it was a night much like this one when the most important thing ever to happen to a man, happened to me. I was 18 years old, this bench was a little shorter then. I had just set my ice cream dish down when I heard the shuffle of shoes stopping and a polite but sweet voice ask me if there was room for her to sit down. I was a little hesitant and shy, only mustering the ability to look down at her shoes. I still remember them, so shiny and red. Sandals, they were, the kind that lace up the ankle."

"After a quick recovery and a mumbled 'sure thing', I made as much room on the bench as possible. With a nervous sigh, I squeezed myself as tightly into the corner as I could. There was only four inches between us on the bench, but I wanted her to feel as comfortable as if Main Street separated us."

"She explained that she was on vacation at Disneyland with her mom, dad and younger brother, but had split up when they wanted to return to the hotel for a nap. She found this very spot the night before during the fireworks and enjoyed its good view and isolation from the crowds."

"I told her it was these same qualities that attracted me to the location. We got to talking about how many times we'd each been to Disneyland, it was her first trip and my tenth (I had moved to Anaheim a few years ago when Disneyland opened); how much we liked Peter Pan and how amazed we were at Lady and the Tramp; and finally, but somewhat sheepishly, showed off our respective Mickey Mouse Club cards. Which is how I learned her name, Sharon."

"Before we knew it a loud explosion rocked our ears. The fireworks had began. Throughout the show, as nonchalantly as I could, I would sneak a peak at her face. Each time it was bathed in a different hue of reflected light, and I wondered if I would ever look at her again."

"With the blaze of the finale still pounding in our hearts, Sharon and I sat in silence for a few minutes. Then mustering all my courage I asked, 'Sharon, if you're going to be at the park tomorrow, I'd love to show you around.' Luck was on my side. She and her family had two more days in town."

"We spent those days exploring every nook and cranny of Walt's park and had a wonderful time together. At the end of her vacation, I wrote down her address on the inside of my Disneyland program and vowed to write her."

"We kept in touch for the next few years while I served a stint in the Navy. When I returned we met again at Disneyland and I proposed to her right here at this bench. She said yes and we married later that year. I had a good job, we never wanted for money and every chance we got we'd sneak back to this bench for our fireworks."

At this point the man stops speaking. His lower lip quivers and you wonder if he is getting ready to cry. With eyes closed he composes himself and continues.

"Sharon passed on last year. This is the first night I've managed to pull myself together and come to Disneyland without her. I'm happy to know that there are others who enjoy this special spot."

At that moment, the first of tonight's fireworks explodes in the sky. They're especially lovely this time, and you watch them together in respectful silence. At the commencement of the patriotic finale, you glance over at the old man, but he's no longer there. In his place, a bowl with the remains of a hot fudge sundae.

-- Indigo (August 1, 1999)