Sleep Must Come Eventually

I took a vacation this year with my wife and son to Disney World. While there we spent the entire time with a young man, Charlie. He is in his mid-20s now, but I hired him to work with me right as he was finishing his first degree. We had a bond and became friends.

I fought to support him professionally and emotionally during COVID. He and his wife were finding their relationship and adult trajectories in all that – it was a stressful time for the world as a whole and experiencing it in the moment at that age must have been especially confusing. Eventually, as COVID shutdowns wound down, Charlie’s wife got a job that necessitated a move to Orlando, so they left Ohio for Florida.

We decided, for my son’s 14th birthday, it would be good to take him to Disney World as a trip just for him. He had been before, but usually for just a day. There was an extended trip where we managed and hosted a trip for my wife’s friend, a man with cerebral palsy. Much of that trip was dedicated to making his enjoyment of the time a success. In that sense, we tried our best, but occasionally we had some time alone together. We had not had a true trip to the ambrosia-filled cornucopia of the American childhood for his direct benefit.

On his birthday itself we pretty much spent the entire day with Charlie. We started at a BBQ restaurant in Disney Springs - he ordered a turkey leg, and it was the biggest we had ever seen. It was as big as his head. He didn't even know how to eat it, and we laughed as he tried. Bringing it to his face with a hand and a fork as if it was even possible to be polite – but, it fell apart, and we laughed even harder. “Who even makes turkeys that big?” one of us wondered. He said "I'm gonna go eat this in the bathroom" with a small fake frown and it was riotous. Despite the trouble it caused, Charlie was able to finish up with the rest of us.

He drove us to Epcot, the favorite park for my son and wife. Rides and shows fill the afternoon, visiting the world showcase with brief stops where possible. In one way, I understand it’s entrenched deeply in consumerism, but on the other hand, it can be a truly positive and lovely experience to share with family and friends.

Dinner was at a special restaurant there. The restaurant has a false elevator that seems to bring the diners to a space station. Charlie's wife and mother joined us. They are Vietnamese and his mother-in-law’s English is serviceable, but not fluent. We ordered our prix fixe dinner and Charlie got a bone-in steak.

The kind server had no idea what was about to happen - when it was served to him - it was this kismet moment of synchronous reflection - the size of the steak was incomprehensible. The angle of it on his plate was identical to the leg from earlier in the day.

I looked at the plate as it was placed and moved my eyes up to his and saw him doing the same in my direction. My wife and son were doing the same thing. We all caught each other in the same moment. There was a pause as we just looked at each other and without a word we burst into laughter. You know that annoying group at a restaurant that are so immersed in their own essence of loud joyousness that they seem to forget they are in public? Like a bubble surrounds them and transports them to a place where only their group exists? Well, it was nice to be that joyous for once. It was nice to be that group for a moment or two.

We couldn’t even talk. Every time we tried to stop, we just looked at each other—and it started all over again. It became impossible to even try to describe the situation – and who would understand it but us? Do you even? I would say that the moment itself is impossible to fully accept in its absurdity without being there.

Eventually his wife and mother-in-law were pulled into the riot of bliss - it was inescapable. It didn't need context because it was so pure. Joy – for the sake of joy – in the embrace of the moment’s absurdity. The server came by and noticed we hadn’t even been able to eat yet, and we tried to explain – she was sweet and humored us – but did she “get” it? Absolutely not. How could she?

We calmed down and were able to eat. All that laughing made us hungry. As desserts were served – none of which were giant cuts of meat - I told the table that Charlie is a soulmate of mine - and that moment was evidence. A warm and understanding friend - always - but a synching of existence has happened over the years and that is a deep bond.

We were the last in the restaurant by the time we finished. It took us so long to eat and talk and wind down. We took our elevator back to Earth.

When we disembarked, the park was closed - it was empty. There were security guards roaming around quietly, and grounds staff were equally quiet in their cleaning from the day of many families finding many joys. The rides were over. The ambient music was gone. The heat of the day had receded into a chilly dark night.

The Epcot sigil - Spaceship Earth - silently shifted colors as we passed under it. Laughter still in our hearts and sleep on our minds because sleep must come for us all.