Find me a faerie

Skyrockets were in flight and I assure you, there was some afternoon delight. What a day it was. Some friends from up north, stopping over from a cross country trek that included that grandest of canyons, some spring training and an assortment of RV parks, invited Critter and myself to the most Magical of Kingdoms, Disneyland. How could I refuse? Critter was enthralled from the get go as he and his childhood friends had wondered for years how one place had corralled so much magic for so long? Whereas Critter and his kind had avoided the limelight for decades, living in comfortable seclusion deep in the forests of Oregon, here was a place in the midst of vast civilization that boasted witches, dwarves, toys that can talk and dead pirates that tell no tales (although when we actually went to visit these rotting pirates, Critter remarked that they seemed abundantly chatty to him. They wouldn't shut up about the fact that they told no tales, particularly after they died. Not to mention, they loved to sing. Yo hoho ho everywhere. The only people who sing more are all those freaky little kids in "It's a small world after all." Critter asked if there was anyway to free those poor children and I asked him, wold you want them free to roam the world singing that song? He took another quick glance around as as the little Hawaiian hula girls shook their arms and there grass skirts and nervously nodded "no.")

But let's back up a sec.

Before we drove to pick up our friends, we were thinking about what Critter would need to wear to conceal his identity. We were first thinking of being a big sunburned German tourist or maybe some Russian gangster when it occurred to both of us that we were traveling to the most faerie populated place on earth. How could one lone Bigfoot make a ripple? We decided that Critter would go "au naturale." Wearing nothing but a set of old Mickey ears that I was using as a coin jar, Critter and our three other companions set out for Disneyland.

It was Critter's first time in a RV and he was fascinated by the fold out bed. However, driving on the 10 past downtown LA to the 60, we were are lulled into a pensive quiet as massive grey ocean lie sprawl of LA surrounded our tiny craft, our Winnebago bobbing in this metal sea, suffocating out the sprite in our spirits. Resolute, our captain pushed the pedal harder to the floor and we set sail faster for a dream that someone else dreamt up for us.