Main Street Is Everyone’s Hometown
AFTER OUR GROTTO VISIT—which consisted of several coin tosses over my shoulder into the well, and Bert lip-synching to Snow White’s singing—we headed for Main Street and the way out. We wanted to see the Electrical Parade in California Adventure. We walked along the cute, tidy street façades, and I told Bert that they reminded me of the houses on my street. My neighborhood’s houses look like a movie set.
“What do you mean?”
“My neighborhood back home”—I felt a slight pang at the thought of home, but kept going—“looks adorable. The yards are clean and the houses are blue and green and yellow. Except on my street, I hardly ever see kids running around, or neighbors talking, or...anything.” We merged into the throng crowding the street. Some people had parked themselves on the sidewalk, waiting for the fireworks in two hours. The thought of the fireworks made my stomach sink. I would meet my parents then. At least Bert could be with me tonight while I faced them, but a little cloud of doom had settled over our last hours together.
After I glared at the third stroller to wheel into me, we pulled over and I leaned against a bright blue fake door—well, I think it was a real door, but only for Cast Members—watching the families stroll by, chatting, excited, or fussing, and I realized that Main Street in Disneyland was a lot more real than my own neighborhood. At least here, people were all out together. How could I make friends at home when nobody was there?
I guess here we are just temporary neighbors, but that was the case in the outside world, too. I thought of my neighbor at home, the old lady who spoke only Spanish but always said “Hello” to me, and who used to live next door until she sold her house for a bigger one when prices were high. I wondered if her new, fancier house had worked out for her. Back home right now, there were four bright white “For Sale” or “Foreclosed” signs that had grown out of the lawns on my street the last month alone. My neighbors weren’t much more permanent on my real street. And my friends at home didn’t seem very permanent, either.
We joined the crowd and set off again. “Bert, does Main Street seem nicer than your own street?”
“Yeah, there aren’t any sweet buns on my street.” We were passing the Blue Ribbon Bakery.
“No, I mean, really...do you know your neighbors?”
“Yeah, I know a lot of them. Well...some of them. Some are weird and I don’t even want to know them.” He paused. “But, Main Street isn’t homes, it’s businesses. It’s different.”
“Well, I feel more at home here sometimes than at home.”
“I know what you mean,” he said, and I kept staring at the people around us.
“My neighbors, they check in on me and Maggie after school sometimes,” Bert said. “It’s kind of—no, it’s really annoying, but they bring food. They know my parents work a lot.” I nodded. “Maybe you should try to get to know your real neighbors.”
“Yeah.” I should. And they should get to know me. But I didn’t see it happening. I was too embarrassed to go and introduce myself. Now that I was in high school, did I have to do stuff like that? “Well, I guess my real neighbors wouldn’t shove me aside to watch a parade.”
“Ha! Yeah, in my neighborhood, on the Fourth of July, all the houses have little firecrackers and they all go out around eight-thirty and set them off. We have lawn chairs out. But no pushing...well, maybe to see who gets to light the fuse,” he added.
“I wish we did things like that. I don’t think fireworks are legal in my city.”
“Well, you know, I’m not sure they’re legal in mine, either.” He grinned. “Hey, since you don’t have any, let’s go be good neighbors while we’re here.” He pulled out the unused Indiana Jones FastPass ticket.
“Huh?”
“We can do a good deed. Maybe we’ll get some good karma or something.” I shook my head, confused. “See, this FastPass time isn’t up yet, but we’re going to the other park now, and I bet we won’t even need it later tonight, after the fireworks.” After the little kids left, he meant.
I whipped my ticket out of my bag’s special pocket that I used just for FastPass tickets. “Okay, let’s be neighborly,” I agreed. I could use some good karma tonight.