>>>>>>>>>>>>>
So many different signs hang around the room. Star Wars, a Jim Henson’s Creative Shop, Toon Town Racing, All I want for Christmas is 101 Spotted Pups. All of them look dusty and alone. Small props surround the room, cartoonish looking luggage or dumbbells. Boxes that read “AMC EYE BALLS.” Tattered flags displaying Mickey Mouse hang along the railings. They look much older than most things in the room. The cartoon Mickey is a faded off white against a once metallic colored flag. They lay lifeless next to old Christmas decorations. In the corner sits a more unrecognizable prop. He is a wrinkled pink baby dinosaur from the old early 90’s show Dinosaurs. Most people will not know what he is, but I remember. I laugh because as a kid I was terrified of the baby dinosaur. Now he sits alone in the corner, still a little scary. The baby creepily smiles; someone had dressed him in a feathered boa.
I am in this room for work. Someone has decided to host a dinner here, surrounded by all these props. But my workday has turned into a scavenger hunt. My eyes dart around the room in excitement. I feel as if I am a kid again, except now I am living inside the very shows I used to watch as a child. I am smiling. Not just because it is my job to smile, but also because I am happy being in this staged prop house. I think for a moment how much better it would be if I could revel in this excitement with someone who shares my Disney fascination. They could smile with me and we could reminisce together. When I was younger I would watch Disney parades and become enthralled with the magic behind these simple puppets. These puppets that now lay still, do they still have magic left in them? I pretend that all the props here were chosen because they were extra special. They were chosen so I could walk into this room and remember everything they used to be. I want to wander to into the corners of the room, but I am stuck standing in the middle on the floor childishly spinning around to see everything that surrounds me.
A huge 3D Finding Nemo prop stands out against the less colorful boxes and faded flags. His eyes pop out from his bright orange body. His eyes are bigger than my head. He is the only brightly colored thing in here. He looks shiny and new while the decaying props around him fade into the walls. A headless skeleton with converse tennis shoes sits next to him. What Disneyesque purpose did this skeleton ever serve?
There are so many props in the room I am unable to see them all. I circle around and look noticing new items each time my eyes scan the walls. There is almost too much to look at. Some of the props much older than me, some of them newly placed in this room. I refrain from touching, afraid I will disturb something, afraid of moving the cluttered chaos out of place. These props once had a purpose, had a life, and now they sit undisturbed. I look again at the sleeping lion. He looks so comfortable lying amongst the other props. As if he is content being left asleep forever.
pg. 12